His Majesty, The Queen

Spin The Bottle

It was a large and empty room, as all the furniture had been moved to one side. Perhaps it was meant to be the dance floor, but as of now there was a large arrangement of people sitting in a gigantic circle in the middle of the room, all huddled around a beer bottle which was spinning madly in the middle. One boy, the one who had done the spinning, was looking anxiously around at the crowd, as if expecting something from them.
"Sherlock, Sherlock come and sit by me!" called Mike's voice, patting the floor beside him as he scooted over to make room. On his other side sat Sarah, who was looking very smitten with him indeed, leaning over onto his lap and holding one of his hands between both of hers. He nodded, stumbling over and falling rather heavily onto the floor, looking towards where the boy in the middle was now falling upon some girl on the outside of the circle, the one which the beer bottle had been pointing to.
"It's spin the bottle, if you didn't notice." Mike muttered, nodding towards the bottle sitting in the middle. "You spin it, and whoever the tip is facing you have to kiss."
"Whoever?" Sherlock wondered nervously, now wondering just what horrible possibilities there were. For a moment he got a terrible image in his head of him spinning the bottle just as the police began to raid the house, and having to go up and kiss an officer as per the rules of the game.
"Whoever." Mike agreed. "That's what makes it exciting."
"Certainly." Sherlock murmured. He looked around the circle, noticing all of his friends had joined the masses. Greg was sitting next to Molly, though he seemed too occupied with kissing her cheek rather than noticing what was happening in the game. John was over with Mary, the two very interested in who the bottle was going to land on next. Sherlock found himself praying that the bottle would not land on him, for fear that the spinner on the other side of the circle would be a pour soul who he found distasteful, and would have to kiss them all the same. He noticed Janine in the mix, the poor girl giving the occasional side glance of desperation, as if wishing he might approach her with some sort of apology. He didn't notice a welt on the back of her head, nor any sort of blood, and so he considered that reassurance that he hadn't done too much damage.
"How interesting." Sherlock muttered mostly to himself as a girl watched the bottle land on another girl on the outskirts of the circle, and she went giggling over to give her a peck on the lips to the wide amusement of the crowd. As they all spun the bottle Sherlock seemed to notice a pattern, one that was becoming ever the more frightening. They were going counter clockwise, in a pattern of people getting up a spinning that was leading closer and closer to himself. Thankfully the bottle continually landed away from him, though soon it would be his turn to spin, therefore giving him no option of modesty...
"Mike I don't think I want to spin." Sherlock whispered anxiously, his limbs beginning to feel very heavy in fear for his lips and whoever they might have to press upon.
"Sorry mate, once you sit there's only one way you leave, and that's by spinning and being on your merry way." Mike admitted.
"Well that's...that's terrible. What happens if you're in a committed relationship?" Sherlock asked quickly, though either way that wasn't going to be a very good excuse on his part. Mike knew that he wasn't attached to anyone, and therefore he wouldn't be able to duck out quite so easily.
"Then you get the consent of your partner to play. It doesn't mean anything, none of it does." Mike assured.
"They seemed to be getting into it." Sherlock pointed out, nodding to where two of the players were lip locked and affectionate on the outer rim of the circle.
"Yes well, sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes it lands on the person you wanted it to." Mike assured.
"One time some poor soul had the bottle pointing directly to himself, and he had to find a mirror." Sarah added in from Mike's other side, laughing hysterically as if that was certainly the funniest thing she had heard all day.
"Oh, I hope that happens to me." Sherlock admitted truthfully.
"How terribly narcissistic." Mike muttered, to which Sherlock smiled guiltily.
"What can I say, if my goal is to kiss the prettiest person in this room it really ought to be my own reflection." Sherlock muttered, to which Mike merely scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Well I'm sorry to break it to you, but it's your turn." He insisted, nodding towards where the bottle sat idly, pointing to a timid couple as they pecked lips and were done with it. Sherlock took a deep breath, seeing now that all eyes were upon him as he hesitated in his spot.
"Come on then!" called out an angry voice, obviously anxious to watch strangers make out with each other by the wise commanding of the beer bottle. Sherlock shivered, though he rather crawled to the middle of the circle and looked around at the great many options. No one seemed all too repulsive, though if he got Janine he might just have to show himself the door soon afterwards. He realized all too quickly that whoever this bottle landed on would be destined to be his first kiss...oh he hoped that perhaps it might be memorable. He hoped that it would be at least a good one. And so he placed one of his hands onto the bottle, and with a painful sort of jolt he sent the thing spinning wildly in all directions, showing no sign of stopping or slowing at all. Well this was a good thing, perhaps this one time he had shattered all laws of physics and made that thing spin forever and ever, and he would not have to kiss anyone, and everyone in this room would sit and wait for permission to leave because at last the fun was over. And yet just as soon as Sherlock was beginning to hope for such a happy ending the bottle began to slow down, shaking a bit as it lost momentum and spun slower and slower each time, its tip pointing to each of the anxious girls one by one at spun around and around. Sherlock knew that some of them were hoping to be the lucky winner, and while he was rather hoping the bottle to point to an empty space he knew that he may not be so fortunate. And so he braced himself, preparing for the worst as the bottle began to creep to a painful stop...Sherlock was so focused on watching the bottle as it slowed, as if to make sure its command was a definite one, that he didn't understand the noise and laughter from the crowd. He wasn't yet sure why Greg had nearly doubled over in excitement, or why Mike had begun to pound the floor much like an ape. He didn't realize that the bottle was pointing to John, not until he lifted up his head and saw the boy's hazel eyes staring right back. Oh God help them both...as John was smiling. Sherlock held his breath, looking down at the bottle once more as if hoping for it to clarify, and he could not help but feel a complete wave of relief. Well of course this was going to be awkward, but at least it surely wouldn't mean anything. They were both boys, John was with Mary, and Sherlock was a loner. Oh thankfully this kiss would mean nothing at all...
"Oh come on then." John insisted, untangling himself from Mary as he chuckled, beckoning Sherlock with a wave of his impatient hand. Someone wolf whistled as Sherlock began to crawl obediently over to where John sat, the boy now positioning himself a bit taller up on his knees, so as to compensate for the enormous height difference. Sherlock felt himself glowing red, though thankfully he had enough alcohol in his system to compensate for the uncomfortable feelings. Thankfully he was drunk enough not to hear the crowd, nor to care much about their eyes bearing down onto the approaching pair.
"John I...well I guess I'll apologize in advance." Sherlock whispered, daring a quick look to Mary who had taken to chuckling as well. They all seemed to think this was a joke, and so Sherlock could at least allow himself to relax with that presumption. Yes, it was a joke. Oh this was very funny indeed.
"Why is that?" John wondered with a grin, calling Sherlock's eyes once more to him as the boy stopped just short of kissing range.
"I don't know how to kiss." Sherlock admitted.
"You don't, hm?" John chuckled, their conversation just loud enough for the whole of the crowd to hear, as the room became a deafening silent. Sherlock knew they were watching, he knew they were waiting.
"No I don't." Sherlock agreed absentmindedly.
"I suppose we'll have to change that. First step, Sherlock...is to completely lose your mind." John instructed, and with that he took up Sherlock's head in his hands, clutching his face between his palms and pressing their lips together in what could only be described as just...well as just ecstasy. Magic, perhaps would be the more accurate description. Just as soon as John pushed their lips together Sherlock suddenly envisioned himself just lying alone with the boy, suddenly the crowd was gone and it was just the two of them, kneeling together on the wooden floor of Mary's parlor. Suddenly he knew the feeling, suddenly he felt the need. It was delightful, the taste of that boy's lips was something more beautiful than anything he could have ever imagined, and thankfully the kiss lasted as more than just a peck. Sherlock found himself being tipped over, as he fell he opened his eyes to see John's face all clenched up upon his own, their noses brushing and their foreheads hitting. Their lips were locked, their tongues intertwined, and now Sherlock's back hit the floor, with all of John's delightful weight falling down afterwards. And then John's lips released just for a short moment, he repositioned them in such a way so as to kiss more passionately, until at last Sherlock could do nothing else than open his mouth in a wide gape and kick up one of his legs, looping it around John's torso and bringing him in personally close, so that he could be trapped between Sherlock's legs and pressed against his chest...
"Alright, alright John." Mary intervened, her voice cutting through Sherlock's moment of passion like a blade, cutting through the tenseness and suddenly opening Sherlock up to the world which was turning around him. To the crowd, staring down upon his strewn body and John's on top of his own...Mary had pulled the boy up by the back of his collar, she pulled his lips away and forced him to lean now on his palms, breaking into a bout of laughter as if hopelessly trying to defend this entire thing as a joke. And yet...yet it wasn't over for Sherlock. Oh he couldn't stop himself, he really couldn't. His legs were still pressed towards John's waist, his arm still dangling helplessly from his neck, his head lolling against the hardwood floor like a rag doll. And yet while his limbs were helpless his body was beginning to come aflame, while he lay there entangled in his best friend he felt...oh he felt ecstasy beyond belief. He felt such a painful urge that he tightened his arm around John's neck, clinging now to the boy as if for help, all the while he knew that it was John's kiss that had cast such a spell upon him. Sherlock couldn't help from stretching his legs out before him and letting out the most passionate sigh, holding up his chest from the floor only to let his head drop back, his eyes shut now, his mouth opened and breathing heavily, breathing loudly. He didn't mind the crowd looking on, as he was lost in his own passion, he didn't care what they had to say about it. He was feeling so good, he was feeling so pleased... John really didn't know what to do, and while he knew there was a crowd he also knew that they had fallen silent...Sherlock kicked his single foot against the floor, feeling fire, feeling relief, feeling love.
"My God, John! John he's..." Mary's voice faltered as Sherlock's strength at last failed him, and his fingers left the grip of John's neck. From there he fell hard onto the floor, his head hitting against the wood first and shaking him back into reality, in which pain and embarrassment were beginning to overtake his sudden passionate fit. And the room began to spin, and his head began to split, and John's eyes were staring down upon him with something that could only have been disgust, surprise...repulsion. Sherlock's stomach turned, his limbs grew heavy and his eye welled up in emotion, realizing now what an utter fool he had made of himself. And the silence, the silence and the stares...it was enough for him to at last come to himself, rolling over just in time to spew out the contents of his stomach onto the floor, a great big waterfall of still pungent alcohol flooding over the hardwood. Perhaps that's when everyone lost interest in the game, for they all seemed to flee without having their turn at the bottle. They all got up in great droves, until finally it was Mike who hoisted the poor boy onto his shoulder, allowing Sherlock's weak little legs to carry him just as far as the back porch before he was able to hang off of the railing and continue his retching in the privacy of the moonlit backyard.
"I'm going back to England." Sherlock insisted at last, grabbing onto the back rail and arching his back over top of the dark grass.
"Don't be a drama queen, Sherlock." Mike begged, though his voice did quiver in apprehension. He didn't seem to confidant about any of this, almost as if he had never been in this situation. Well surely no one had ever been...surely this was the first for all of them, the first time the world had ever seen such an embarrassing spectacle as a first impression.
"I'm not being dramatic." Sherlock groaned, clutching his stomach and spitting some more over the banister. "I just single handedly managed to ruin my life."
"Now stop that, stop it. Sherlock that might've been anyone out there, it's not like...it's not like it was anything important. Sure you might have gotten carried away, but surely it was your first time." Mike insisted, patting on the back with very nervous fingers, as if he didn't want to press down too hard lest Sherlock fall to the floor in another writhing fit of passion.
"It was my first kiss, but that doesn't make it any better. God I just made the biggest fool out of myself. And they'll never forget that, will they? I'll forever be known as the Englishman who..."
"Sherlock, you absolute rascal!" exclaimed a new voice, one sounding very drunk yet very excited. Greg came bouncing out onto the back porch, taking Sherlock up in a bear hug from behind and lifting him nearly off of his little feet, as if he was celebrating something rather than mourning Sherlock's social status. Sherlock gave a little whine of protest, though in some ways it was a bit reassuring to know that everyone wasn't going to treat him like a quarantine victim.
"Greg, give him a break. He's taking this a little hard." Mike insisted.
"You bet he is!" Greg laughed, pressing his own kiss to Sherlock's cheek from behind before at last dropping the boy back onto the porch. "Sherlock, you put on the best show any of us had ever seen before."
"It wasn't a show." Sherlock growled, sliding away from Greg as he felt his stomach twitch angrily.
"Well whatever it was, I loved it. We all loved it. Most interesting thing that had ever happened at one of Mary's house parties, that's for sure." Greg exclaimed.
"Even better than the time John got drunk and mooned the dance floor?" Mike offered with a little chuckle. Sherlock sighed, not entirely knowing what that meant but presuming it was pretty bad. Perhaps then he could just blame this on drunkenness, and get over himself a little bit?
"Even better than that." Greg assured. "You're a legend, Sherlock."
"I'm a humiliation." Sherlock corrected miserably. "I'll never face him again. I'm going back to England, where hopefully a Nazi will shoot me before..."
"Stop right there." Greg insisted, his voice suddenly growing serious as he caught Sherlock by the shoulder and spun him around. Their eyes met, and for once in Sherlock's life he saw something that looked sincere hiding inside of Greg's gray stare, as if he suddenly cared about something and wasn't prepared to laugh at it. That was fearful enough, quite akin to when Hell froze over, or when pigs suddenly began to sprout wings.
"Now you gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself, you hear me? You should be happy, God you should be thankful! Because it felt good, ya? It's not about what other people saw, or what they felt about it, it's what you felt about it. Best feeling of your life." Greg insisted, prodding Sherlock in the chest with a very stiff finger and making him stumble back a couple of paces.
"But...wasn't I sort of taking it all too far?" Sherlock presumed.
"It was John that was making out with you; you were just reacting as anyone might've." Greg assured, looking towards Mike who nodded his head a bit urgently. Surely they didn't actually feel this way; surely they knew that they wouldn't lose control after a couple of playfully intense kisses from one of their best friends. It was all supposed to be a joke, and yet Sherlock's heart couldn't have taken it as such. It didn't understand the difference between sarcastic intimacy and actual love, and it seemed to want to react the same way to either one...
"And we don't care that you're a homosexual, we really don't." Mike added in quickly, as if he thought he might clear the air before the conversation exhausted itself. Though Sherlock looked at him, his heart dropping in his chest in the presence of such a condemning word...
"No, no I'm not." Sherlock insisted, chuckling now as his nervous system went completely haywire. He wasn't entirely sure how to react to such an accusation, and so in the midst of doubt he just decided to defend himself as best as he can. He didn't know what was happening inside of his heart, and he wasn't sure what entirely this night had meant for his identity. But in the moment he knew that it would be damning not to deny it fiercely, lest that rumor be following him around the rest of his days at Mazarin.
"It's alright mate, I mean we've all got our tastes." Greg assured, as if he hadn't heard Sherlock's defense at all. Though at last Sherlock backed up into the fence, keeping his hands up in a look of utterly helpless surrender.
"I'm not, I told you that. I'm not gay." Sherlock said forcefully, his lips trembling with the effort of spitting out that very word, the one he had managed to keep off of his lips for so long. At last Greg sighed, looking over towards Mike with a shrug. Perhaps they saw right through Sherlock's fearful reaction, perhaps they knew exactly what sort of confliction he was facing. And obviously they didn't want to press him any farther, and so at last they nodded as a mutual pair.
"Ya, alright. Course you're not." Mike assured at last, patting Sherlock's shoulder so as if to ease his mind a bit better.
"Ya, everyone would've done that." Greg decided, though he didn't sound very sure. Though they both managed a smile, summoning up enough care and understanding between them to at least put Sherlock's mind at ease. Perhaps he didn't have to flee the country at all, though the very idea of looking John in the eyes again was enough to make his knees weak.
"I um, well I think I'm going to go home." Sherlock announced apprehensively, nodding his head before brushing off his rather disgusting shirt. It was covered in all sorts of nameless substances, some from the kitchen counter, others from his dripping lips. All together it made him look quite the mess, and he decided that now would be a good time to duck out of the public eye. Perhaps if they never saw him again after the incident they would forget about it, and his embarrassing scene would have been lost to the wind just as soon as they reconvened in the living room.
"I'll walk you back, just to make sure no bears get you." Mike decided.
"Oh what about Sarah, no you can't leave her." Sherlock insisted, remembering Mike's long suffering girlfriend and their final reconnection tonight at the party. Certainly he couldn't force Mike to leave his girl alone?
"She'll find someone else to hang out with I'm sure. She's got loads of friends." Mike assured, though he did seem rather apprehensive about sneaking out so suddenly.
"Go and say goodbye." Sherlock insisted, pushing Mike back towards the sliding door insistently. Mike sighed heavily, though at last he nodded.
"Ya alright...alright." He agreed. "But wait here until I get back. You'll get lost in the woods without me."
"God forbid I die just here and now..." Sherlock grumbled, though Greg offered him a slap in the back of the head in retaliation.
"No self-loathing!" he exclaimed in his drunken slurred voice, to which Sherlock nodded his head and leaned up against the banister. He said nothing in response, for despite Greg's messages of positivity he couldn't help but hate himself and his body's reactions. It was terribly embarrassing for him, and undoubtedly for John as well. Oh he hadn't thought of that, not until now. John, who had been carrying his joke out so far that his girlfriend got nervous, John who would have to face the crowd of his friends after having sent his very own friend onto the brink of intimate insanity! Perhaps Sherlock hadn't just ruined his own reputation, but John's as well. Perhaps their entire social status had been erased with just one little incident following up spin the bottle.