Lonely, loved, betrayed.

Summer camp of last year.

A/N- I have never been drunk, so I have no idea what the after affects would be like. Also, this is going to be Johns point of view (P.O.V.) and then Sherlocks P.O.V. because they wont be in the same area for the majority of this chapter.

Week one, day two.

Johns P.O.V. 

Sherlock slept in, claiming he was sick when Anderson had to check on him, but the rest of the kids who were at the bonfire last night knew otherwise. They all guessed Sherlock had never been drunk before, so his head must've been killing him. Greg laughed at this as he tried to hide his own headache from Anderson. After lunch, the rest of the kids, including John, all went outside to explore the forest, no one bringing up last nights events. But that doesn't mean that John wasn't thinking about it. In fact, it never left his mind. He tried to pay attention to the conversation between Molly and Greg though, seeing as it was in fact about Sherlock,

"Why'd you dare him to kiss him?" Molly whispered, hoping John couldn't hear.

"What? Oh, Sally said to. She said that-" he cleared his throat "that Johnny boy would like it."

"You mean Sally thinks John is.." John thought it was funny how Molly couldn't say the word. 

"Yes, and she also thinks Sherlock is too." 

"Sherlock can't be.." John stopped listening and slowly made his way away from the group and walked around until he found a suitable tree to sit in and think about, well, everything. He climbed the tree until he was sure no one would find him. "Sally knows- no, she thinks I'm gay. She also thinks Sherlock is. But, he's asexual, isn't he?" he sighed as last nights events played in his head. He remembered how Sherlock tasted, and the way the world seemed to melt and fade around him as Sherlock kept pulling him closer."He was drunk, that's all. He probably doesn't remember it. There's no way he could remember it." frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked out at the sun that was still high in the sky. He knew it was only about noon, so he had a long while before anyone would notice he was gone.

Sherlocks' P.O.V.

Sherlock woke up with a raging headache and had to stay in bed. "I will never drink again." he complained as he tried to get up, only to collapse into Johns bed again. Why was he in Johns bed? "Johns bed? John? JOHN!" he panicked as he started to remember the events of last night. He remembered being dared to kiss John, and felt mortified. "Bloody hell! You are not suppose to kiss your friends, Sherlock! You bloody idiot!" he sighed. "John will hate me, I know it." he placed his fingers under his chin as he tried to remember how to get rid of a hangover. Surely someone must've told him. Suddenly, he jumped up and ran to the mess hall to find some bread. "John told me that his father would burn toast to get rid of his headaches before he went to work. Burnt toast should help me, and then I can go find John and talk to him." 

After effectively finding, burning, and forcing it down, he waited and after about ten minuted, his headache was gone. By now, the sun was starting to set. "If I'm going to talk to John, I need to find him before we have dinner." He began to run, checking obvious places like the field where they were before the bonfire, then others cabins, where he found Mrs. Hudson. 

"Sherlock! I was told you were in bed sick and-"

"Where's John?"

"John? Oh, I believe he went into the woods with the rest of the-" 

"Thank you!" Sherlock yelled over his shoulder as he ran to the forest. "John, I need to find John." that was all he could think about. "John. John John John. Why am I thinking about John? Oh yeah, because he's my only friend and I lo-" he stopped running. "No. No, you do not love anyone, Sherlock. No." he began looking around for any traces of John. "John?" he called out. "John, where are you? I need to-"