Sherlock and John

Hangover

'Sherlock. Can you please turn off that radio? My heads killing me.'

'John. The radio isn't on.'

'Oh.'

I sat, propped up in my usual chair, bleary eyed and on the point of vomiting. I wasn't well. I wasn't well at all. What I really wanted to do was find a tear in the space time continuum and slap my past self for letting present self get into this mess. Past self was an idiot. I can barely even remember what happened last night. It all seemed such a blur. All I can remember is Sherlock trying to get me to go to bed.

No. I know what you're thinking. Not like that.

I look down at sniff at my chest. Urgh. Vomit. Nasty.

'You were sick John. Drunk and sick.' He sighs, ruffling his newspaper. His brown hair is matted and he looks as if he stayed up all night.

'Yes. I stayed up all night. Didn't want you drowning in your own vomit.' He smirks and goes back to his newspaper, humming to himself. I don't even know how he heard that.

'John. I'd like to point out to you that you are thinking aloud. Which means..' He sighs, 'that you don't seem to have realised that you are saying everything as if it were an inner monologue. Please stop, you're going to say something embarrassing or give me a headache. Something neither of us wants.'

'Oops. Sorry' I gasp before running down the corridor and back into my room. I slam the door behind me and go and sit behind the bed, nursing my pounding head.

Shouldn't have slammed the door.

I lie down in my bed and drift off, as I hear Sherlock shouting to himself.

-------------------------------------------

BANG

CRACK

I jump up, and immediately fall into a position of self defence. But I quickly give up any plans of fighting, because those noises were loud. Too loud for someone with a hangover.

'Owwwww.' I whine, rolling under the bed, my hands nursing my skull.

After what seems like forever, I look up, to see Sherlock standing in the doorway. He has his coat on, and his hat.

'John. You may have heard my little science experiments in the other room, but don't worry, everything's under control. Sort of.'

'What's happening Sherlock?'

'Nothing, nothing, you stay there, I'm just heading out to buy some gun powder.'

'SOME WHAT!' I hiss, but he's already left.

I roll back under the bed, and lie there, listening to my own breaths. I smile to myself.

Sherlock, you crazy, ignorant, stupid, amazing, ingenious person.

I love you.