Alone [Sheriarty] [Mpreg/Parentlock]

Chapter One

"I try to make it through these lies, and that's all I do."

-Apocalyptica, I Don't Care

-Chapter One-

Stupid. What had he been thinking?!

He'd swore to himself he wouldn't come back. He'd swore to him he wouldn't come back.

In hindsight, he should have known because this was far from the first time he'd done this. He'd claimed time and time again that he would not come back, that he could shake his addiction. Could shake him.

They both knew he couldn't. No matter how wrong it was.

So here they were, about to convince themselves it was down to the drinks when they spent the night completely absorbed in each other when, in reality, both were far more sober than they let on.

It wasn't right for them to be doing this. They knew that. They were meant to hate each other. Want the other dead.

And yet, they continued to go to this club on Friday evenings. They'd have a drink or two, separately. Then they'd 'stumble' towards the other and they'd spend the night at Jim's lovely flat on the outskirts of London.

In the morning they'd blame the drink, snap a few harsh words and then they'd go back to being enemies.

The Consulting Criminal and the Consulting Detective.

The first time they'd done this had been like any other one night stand and they were more intoxicated than usual. But not enough to be unaware of what they were doing. Sherlock hadn't even noticed Jim was in the club, at first.

Then the Irish man came and sat beside him. They acknowledged one another and Sherlock mentally prepared himself for escaping any attempt made to take his life.

Much to his surprise, and delight, Jim had leaned in and captured his lips with his own.

It had been a little awkward, their noses bumping a few times before they got used to kissing the other man. Sherlock's hand had been shaking as he raised it to Jim's jaw, his nerves running all over the shot.

After a few more heated kisses, they'd gone back to Jim's. Sherlock had shyly admitted that he hadn't done anything like this before and he was indeed a virgin. Jim had been understanding and they'd gone very slowly. Spent hours making sure Sherlock was ready, both physically and mentally.

Jim had been so gentle with Sherlock, treating him as if he may break. That was the first time Sherlock felt his heart squeeze with adoration for Jim.

He'd quickly pushed away that thought and focused on enjoying himself.

In the morning, Sherlock woke up alone. He'd been quick to gather his clothes and waddle out of the door. He'd then gone straight home and collapsed into his own bed, head lightly throbbing and his chest aching.

The following Friday, Sherlock had gone to the club again. Out of curiosity, if anything. Jim had been there again. He'd come and sat beside Sherlock and the night had followed in the same way.

Two months passed that way. 'Drunk' sex and Sherlock waking up alone in Jim's large bed.

When Jim had started staying in the bed during the mornings, both had been silent for the first two weeks as Sherlock gathered his clothes and left. On the third week, Jim had snapped at Sherlock to hurry up. From then on their Saturday mornings consisted on them exchanging heated words and glares.

Now, here Sherlock was again. Sat at the bar and sipping at his first drink.

He was keenly aware of Jim sitting in the corner of the room, slowly drinking his own drink. It felt so wrong, meeting up like this, and Sherlock was completely addicted to it.