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They’d gone out to celebrate after a successful case, as usual. Merry music playing from the open doors of the pub had drawn in the pair like moths to a flame, and honestly, who was Mikotoba to deny Herlock a dance, when he seemed to positively glow with excitement. It had been an exciting day, there was still enough energy that a little fooling around could be excused. It wasn’t as if it would get out of hand
And yet, just like in their deductions, they only served to egg each other on.
“Come now, Mikotoba, show me again that new step you learned the other day!” Sholmes shouted above the clapping and cheering of the crowd. In his hands, he readied his violin and bow, ready to accompany his friend through his newest rhythm.
“With pleasure!” Mikotoba shouted back, grinning, before he downed the remnants of his drink and rushed to stand by Sholmes’ side once again.
Perhaps it was his fault, for letting himself get so caught up in the thrill of the dance. Herlock found that their beats synced best after a successful case, so he found himself standing idly by as his friend grabbed his fifth beer of the night. He knew Mikotaba’s limit of course, this certainly wasn’t their first excursion. But he was so swept up in the moment, the alcohol loosening the edge of his own reasoning, that it felt almost inappropriate to interrupt the joyous flow of events. It had nothing to do with the way sweat glistened off of his dear friend's face as he laughed and danced the night away. Absolutely not.
Not willing to fall into the pit of his own thoughts, Herlock grabbed Mikotoba by the arm, and offered to teach him how to line dance with a silly grin plastered over his face.
****
Herlock doesn’t let go of Mikotoba’s arm for the rest of the evening. Indeed, it proved to be quite impossible, for every time he attempted to pull away, Mikotoba would either begin to sway dangerously on his feet, or begin to mumble about how Sholmes’ side was so awfully warm.
Yes, it was quite impossible for Herlock to let go indeed.
He decided instead to begin to pick up their discarded coats and hats, and lay them over their shoulders so they could begin their trek home. It had grown quite cold outside after all, and it was beginning to grow late.
Herlock swears up and down that he would never have indulged in close contact as he did, had it not been for the alcohol muddling his judgement. Truly, the drink was at fault!
It still didn’t ease the guilt chewing at his heart as he hefted Mikotoba closer to his side, close enough to smell the earthy scent wafting off his carefully coiffed hair. The inebriated man did nothing but let out a loose laugh, mumbling something about horse hooves before falling silent at his side again.
Thank his lucky stars it wasn’t a long walk. It really was as if his dear Mikotoba was only gaining in weight the longer they stumbled along the streets of London. When the front door to their home came into sight, Herlock could do nothing but heave a sigh of relief. It was for the best, the detective mused. His heart was starting to do funny things in his chest.
The simplicity of the situation would not let itself be found, it would seem. Herlock truly thought that he would be free to sober up in the privacy of his room after he had dropped off his friend within his own quarters, but it was quite impossible when he found himself standing by Mikotoba's bedside, held in place by a single finger curling around his own.
"Stay." The word rang out crystal clear, leaving no room for doubt.
Herlock chuckled nervously. This wasn't going as planned.
"My dear friend, as much as I'd love to humor your request, I have my own needs to tend to..."
His words only fell on deaf ears.
"Stay." Mikotoba was gazing up at him now, his piercing gaze holding Herlock in place.
Before he knew it, the pull at his hand grew into a tug, and Herlock found himself stumbling onto the bed beside his partner and closest friend.
His whole body lit up like a torch.
It didn't help when Mikotoba, with a low laugh, curled closer and laid an arm around him, mumbling something about being cold before immediately starting to snore.
"Mikotoba!" Herlock hissed, voice pitched high in his panic. "Mikotoba, wake up and release me-"
It was no use. The man only proceeded to shift closer in his sleep.
In the quiet of the night, the panic slowly and gently ebbed away, and Herlock began to give in to the gentle comfort of his close friend breathing against his neck.
Sure that Mikotoba was sleeping, he shifted closer to his friend and laid his own arm over his shoulder, holding him close. If they were awake, Mikotoba would squirm from his grasp, chuckling something fierce about Herlock's touchy nature. But now...
Everything suddenly gave way to horrid, gut-wrenching guilt.
The force of it nearly made him tear up, and he stifled an involuntary noise into the pillow.
If only Mikotoba would know what kind of person he truly was, what he truly thought of his friend , there would be no doubt that Herlock would be met with disgust. Something like this would never happen again, all the close touches and private moments they'd shared.
Moments stolen, a bitter voice in the back of his head hissed. Indeed, for it felt as if the man in his arms would never understand the weight these memories had, for Herlock.
He might forget a lot, but these particular moments were tucked away safely in a place deep within his heart.
But now, his consciousness seemed torn in two. His mind reasoned that he should escape the tempting warmth and comfort of the shared bed, and be off to his own private quarters. His treasonous heart, on the other hand, whispered for him to act now and beg for forgiveness later.
‘You could blame it on the drink,’ it whispered, ‘or the exhaustion. He would never know.’
Curse the fickleness of the heart. The war in him raged on throughout the entire night, shame clawing at his heart as he continued to lay there and breathe in the scent of his friend.
Only in the morning, when he felt Mikotoba begin to stir, did he quickly feign sleep, the panic of last night clawing back up his throat. An arm slowly moved itself from his side, a warm body slid away, and with a pang Sholmes realized his friend was avoiding waking him. A silent moment spanned into several, and the detective had to wonder if Mikotoba had already managed to slip out his door when-
A caress swept Sholmes’ bangs to the side, teasing fingers running along the edge of his face.
For the first time, Herlock Sholmes felt what it was like to burn.
He kept his eyes shut for several more minutes, not even daring to breathe until he heard Mikotoba get up and leave the room. Then, slowly so as not to make a single sound, he curled in on the warm spot his dear friend had left.
Curse the gods and whatever upper powers there were, what the blazes was that.
Herlock thought he’d finally have the time to compose himself, and hopefully forget about the more embarrassing parts of the last night, and then that! Gesture! From out of nowhere!!
He gave himself several more moments to see if sleep would finally come and save him from his racing thoughts, but it was as if he had four cups of coffee. Raw energy coursed through him, and with a frustrated groan, Herlock finally uncurled himself and made his way downstairs.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Mikotoba’s voice held a teasing laugh. The man even hadn’t even the audacity to sound the slightest bit hungover. Herlock ignored the pet name, and grumbled out a vague response instead, before shuffling to the coffee pot. A small shred of normalcy, hopefully enough to hide the detectives deepend eyebags.
But blast it all, of course his perceptive partner would notice even the slightest of err in his demeanor.
“Are you feeling quite alright, my friend?” the smile slowly slides off as the japanese man takes in his disheveled state. “You seem quite a ways grumpier than usual, I’m sure it couldn’t be a hangover souring your mood so.”
Herlock only continued to face away, not trusting his face to immediately give him away.
“Yes, yes I am quite fine!” He hears himself begin to blab away. “Just the usual of finding myself bored this morning for there is no new case to solve, you know how it is-”
He found himself quite frozen as he heard Mikotoba begin to approach him.
“Herlock.”
His mouth clicked shut.
“I’ll be honest with you, I do not well remember the events of last night. Did something happen?”
Herlock found himself turning to throw an incredulous look over his shoulder before he could stop himself.
“Flushed face, avoiding eye contact, fiddling with your hands like that… what are you hiding?” Mikotoba pointed out, throwing him a strange look as he approached him. Herlock tried to laugh it off, tried to turn away again.
“My, using my own weapon against me. What treachery!”
His next word made him grow terribly still once again.
“It’s not every day that one wakes up in the same bed as their close friend.”
Herlock sputtered, facade breaking faster than he’d like. “Nothing happened! Nothing important, I just happened to stumble into bed after you and fell asleep!”
Mikotoba’s arms were caging him against the counter by now. In a last escape attempt, Herlock squeezed his eyes closed. The panic was nigh unbearable, pounding against his chest and making his fingers numb.
He can’t know, he can’t know, he can’t knOW HE CAN’T-
“Won’t you look at me, my dear friend?” Mikotoba barely whispered into the space between them.
Herlock almost regrets it as soon as he does as he’s told. All he sees is his close friend glowing in the soft morning light, eyes filled with a gentle sort of affection that made him want to curl in on himself, if only to ease the swooping dive of his gut. Involuntarily, he felt himself flush at the proximity of their faces, and he found himself trying to turn away again when-
That gentle hand was back, making Herlock look back down at Yuujin.
Finally, Herlock broke.
“Nothing happened,” he admitted. “Nothing but my imagination, having felt your warm embrace, conjuring an image where we could share the bed together every night. A place where I could greet you with open affection every morning, and touch you and call you by your name-” Sholmes chokes out, feeling everything spiral and fall out of control, and blast it all, his vision is starting to blur so he looks down again.
“Ok.”
Sholmes feels himself balk.
“What. Whatever do you mean with ‘ok’?”
Then Mikotoba leans in, and covers Sholmes’s lips with his own. He gasps at the contact, almost flinching away had it not been for the hand on his face gently pulling him forward. A gentle press of the lips, twice, thrice, until Sholmes’ brain catches up with the moment and suddenly he's pressing against the man in front of him, looping his arms around his shoulders and kissing back with every fiber of his being.
They kiss until Sholmes feels himself run out of breath, and they break, dazed.
“Well. leave it to my trusty partner to simplify a problem like that for me.” Sholmes chokes out, laughing. Mikotoba’s low chortle joined his, and in that moment he couldn’t feel more elated.
“So nothing really did happen?” Came his response.
“Of course not!” Herlock cried, incredulous. “You were absolutely sloshed, barely even able to walk without clinging on to me like some child! You think I would ever take advantage of a man like that?”
Yuujin burst into another fit of giggles. “No, I suppose not,” he said, “although I certainly was thinking about it.”
“Huh?” Herlock ought to start getting used to being stumped by his partner’s forwardness.
“Oh please, Mr Master of Deduction, there was no possible way you missed how I was holding you closer than ever. I was drunk, not daft.”
Well that was-
“Curse you for leading me around the nose you incorrigible fool..!”
Herlock wasted no time pulling his friend in for another kiss, and tried not to laugh in sheer joy as he felt him smile into it.