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He was a few beers in already and he wasn't ready to stop when he realized he didn't have enough cash with him to keep buying more.
He sighed. He had a bottle of scotch in the flat he figured he could polish off, It'd be less expensive than staying in the pub anyway.
The only con was Sherlock was still at the flat probably making a mess or making noise, it was always one of the two with him.
He paid the bartender and made his way to the side of the road to hail a cab.
It took unreasonably long for one to stop for him, whether it was because he had been drinking or only Sherlock had the ability always to get the cabbies to stop, he'd never know.
He gave the address and stared out the window.
He was becoming more and more dependent on alcohol because of Sherlock. Well, kind of because of him. He was more frustrated with himself but blamed it on Sherlock. He knew the other man was "married to his work" and had no interest in romantic entanglements, yet he still couldn't help but wish Sherlock felt the same way he did.
He knew it was a pointless thing to wish for and he'd accepted that but it felt like Sherlock was torturing him.
Not only had he become more physical with him (passing touches, being even more in his personal space than usual, and once even offering a massage because his shoulder was acting up) but it’s like every passing day the man got more and more attractive. Even just watching him do normal things made him salivate. It was utterly ridiculous how much like a hormone-driven teenager he felt.
When they arrived he paid the cabbie and walked up the stairs dragging his feet like a child that didn’t want to go to bed.
When he walked in he could hear Sherlock was still playing music on his violin, the same as he had been when he’d left.
Sherlock nodded at him not stopping his playing.
Ugh the bastard, he rolled his eyes. That was another thing the stupid-brilliant man had started doing; acknowledging him at times where he used to just ignore. It made his heart flutter ridiculously and he could have sworn he was doing it on purpose
He made a beeline to the kitchen and pulled out the bottle of scotch and a glass and sat at the table with a clear view of the living room where Sherlock stood facing the window playing and swaying slightly with the music.
He poured himself a glass and sipped it quietly torturing himself by watching Sherlock play.
Unfortunately, the mini-concert he was witnessing came to an end when Sherlock abruptly turned around to face him.
“What is it that I’ve done, just tell me,” Sherlock said sounding impatient.
“Hmm? Nothing that I know of, why?” he asked.
“You’ve been going out to pubs for the last few days -clearly emotional drinking- and I honestly can’t fathom why. From the way you’ve been staring at me and then pretending you weren’t, I assumed I made some kind of mistake-” Sherlock cut himself on and it looked like he had just realized something. “Oh I see,” He said quieter.
Shit, he thought. Well he might as well apologize, perhaps Sherlock would forgive him for being idiotic.
“Sherlock, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”
“John, I apologize for trying to-”
They both looked at each other apprehensively.
“What were you saying?” Sherlock asked.
“What were YOU saying?” he countered.
“Nothing,”
“I might be a little drunk right now but I’m not stupid,”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘That’s arguable’
“Oh, shut up and tell me what you were going to say,”
“A little counterintuitive, don’t you think,”
He rolled his eyes “You’re obviously just trying to sidestep my question,”
“Fine,” Sherlock said mechanically “I was apologizing for trying to seduce you. If you aren’t attracted to me I can accept that,”
His jaw dropped “You- you were- huh,” he went silent processing what he’d heard.
When he looked up he saw Sherlock was looking at him expectantly. “Well, I didn’t know you were um, doing that.” He suddenly wished he was more sober.
“Is this going to end our friendship?” Sherlock asked curtly and he could see a bit of worry behind the other man’s mask.
He got up and walked to the kitchen and chugged a glass of water maintaining eye contact the whole time. He was always the kind to get bold when he had a bit of drink in him.
He set the glass down and walked over to the smarter man “I sure as hell hope it ruins our friendship,” he said, putting one hand on the back of his neck and the other holding his face in his hand then he brought him down to meet his lips in a searing kiss, a kiss that he had wanted to share with him for much longer than he was willing to admit.
“Mmm!” Sherlock hummed in surprise but shortly returned the kiss giving as good as he got.
After a minute or so Sherlock pulled away. “You taste much too much like alcohol, does this count as taking advantage of you?”
“I wouldn’t classify it as that seeing as I’ve been thinking of this for much longer than tonight,”
“Good, just one more thing,”
“Yes?”
“I still don’t understand why you’ve been avoiding me and drinking so often despite returning the sentiment,”
He chuckled “I had thought your ‘flirting’ was just me seeing things I wanted to see, I thought you were ‘married to your work’ so I didn’t entertain the idea too much. And because I am terrible a coping with that, I was just drinking my not-so-unreciprocated feeling away,”
“That’s idiotic,” Sherlock said bluntly.
“Tell me about it,” He said rolling his eyes and smiling. “Now why are we talking when we could make up for lost time and could be making out,”
“Quite right,” he said and once again they were making out in the middle of the living room in their little London flat.