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“Honestly John, why am I here?”
“Because it’s Greg’s birthday, Sherlock.”
“And?”
“So on a friend’s birthday you’re meant to get together and celebrate.”
“Celebrate what exactly? The fact that they’re one year older, one year closer to death? Or do we celebrate their achievements of the last year? In which case this party should really be for me rather than Lestrade.”
“Look, just...smile, drink something and try not to insult anyone...too much.”
At this point John decided that no one was going to open the door (if they had even heard it) and so led Sherlock inside, where he found Lestrade (beer in hand) in the kitchen, along with most of the yarders.
“Look everyone, John and his date have arrived.”
“Hah-bloody-hah. Amy broke up with me yesterday.”
Lestrade barely paused for a second before asking the yarders who had two weeks.
“I believe that was me.”
Sherlock stepped forward, hand outstretched waiting.
“Sherlock? Why the hell are you betting on my relationships?”
“It wasn’t a bet John, it was an investment. She was dull and shallow and frankly you should be lucky that she ended it yesterday rather than after you receive your pay check next week, as that was undoubtedly what she was waiting for.”
“I...I think I need a drink.”
John knew better than to argue with Sherlock about boundaries, and he just accepted that as long as Sherlock’s winnings went on a curry for him, he wouldn’t argue with Sherlock’s evaluation of Amy; she was boring and vain and he had only gone out with her for her looks and to distract himself from his feelings towards Sherlock anyway.
Not that Sherlock would ever realise.
Hopefully.
Helping himself to a can of beer, John returned just in time to notice a great portion of the party moving towards the sitting room. Moving to stand beside Sherlock, John asked what was happening.
“Apparently they are about to participate in some sort of drinking game. I am not sure what the goal is, other than to become inebriated, but the name suggests a lack of logic given its terrible grammar.”
John nodded for a moment before realising he had no idea what Sherlock was talking about, but decided that a lack of logic was just what he needed at that point and so dragged Sherlock towards one of the sofas and promptly forced him to take a seat before sitting down beside him.
“So, what are we playing?”
Anderson glanced at the pair before answering,
“Never have I ever – do you want to join? I’m not sure how much fun the freak will have.”
If Sherlock had any objections to playing, which John was certain of, they disappeared upon hearing Anderson.
“Anderson, even on the best of days your lack of intelligence is astounding, so I suggest that while in your intoxicated state you keep your conversation to a minimum, and instead try to be useful and fetch me a drink.”
Anderson did indeed fetch Sherlock a drink, a shot of something green that Sherlock drank without a second thought, before demanding a proper drink if he was, indeed, expected to play the game.
Whilst the two had been having their minor dispute, Sherlock had missed the rules, although he picked them up soon enough after a female yarder (shy, nervous – new) claimed she had never ‘peed standing up’ (American origins, testing the waters, tentative bonds with the yarders – 3 weeks at most) and all the men had taken a drink.
The game was on.
~~*~~
It began 30 minutes in, when Sherlock was still feeling rather sober – most of the ‘challenges’ were rather boring, and so Sherlock was glad when another yarder claimed he had ‘never ever kissed a man’.
And Sherlock drank.
And John drank.
And everyone was silent.
Sherlock looked at John, who was looking at Sherlock with a look that he found hard to identify (Surprise? Confusion? Lust? No...Pleasure? Excitement?)
John merely shrugged at Sherlock’s confusion before turning back to the game, prompting the next person to speak.
So they did.
And John drank.
And Sherlock drank.
And the yarders began plotting.
~~*~~
“Never have I ever bent someone over a table.”
John drank (Katrina. Gymnast. Flexible.)
Sherlock drank (That Belarusian assassin – had to get the sword off him and the scratch is still in the table.)
Sherlock began to notice.
~~*~~
“Never have I ever slept with a roommate”
John drank (university, drunk, one night, never spoken of again.)
Sherlock drank (He’d slept next the John plenty of times – of course he knew that it wasn’t what the yarders meant, but it was fun to mess with them.)
John began to suspect.
~~*~~
“Never have I ever been the little spoon.”
John drank (his only male encounter – Tom, army, 6”6, they both thought they were going to die – Tom did.)
Sherlock didn’t.
The yarders smiled.
~~*~~
Sherlock’s turn.
“Never have I ever had sex with someone on the police force.”
Anderson drank.
Donovan drank.
John considered for a moment before he drank.
Sherlock smiled.
~~*~~
John’s turn.
“Never have I ever cheated on someone.”
Anderson drank.
Donovan drank.
Sherlock didn’t.
John smiled.
Anderson glared.
~~*~~
“Never have I ever fantasised about someone else while having sex.”
Anderson looked at Sally and drank.
John glanced at Sherlock and drank.
Sherlock watched John and smiled.
~~*~~
“Never have I ever been afraid to say how I feel.” (Ah, the American – plucky and observant.)
John drank.
Sherlock sipped.
No one noticed.
Except John.
~~*~~
A drunk and angry Anderson shot a sly smile at Sally.
“Never have I ever been called a freak.”
Sherlock drank.
John became nervous.
“Never have I been a junkie.”
Sherlock drank.
John clenched his fists.
“Never have I ever been so lonely that I talked to a skull.”
Sherlock drank.
John became angry.
“Never have I ever been so pathetic that the only way I’d be invited to a party is through my flatmate.”
Sherlock drank.
John was seething.
“Never have I ever been so freakish that no-one could ever love me.”
Sherlock went to drink.
John stood up.
“That’s enough. Let’s go Sherlock.”
Sherlock looked at John.
John looked at Sherlock.
Sherlock nodded.
John turned back to Anderson.
“Never have I ever slept with my co-worker as a cover for my failing marriage due to my incompetency, both at work and in the bedroom. Never have I ever fantasised about dinosaurs. Never have I ever had mother issues so complex as to make Oedipus jealous. Never have I ever fallen in love with my male cousin, only to have my heart broken so badly as to form a severe misplaced homophobia. Never have I ever been so idiotic as to doubt what a great man Sherlock Holmes is. Never have I ever been so cruel as to purposefully hurt or humiliate someone for no good reason.”
John poured Anderson’s drink over his head.
Sherlock followed John out of the room.
~~*~~
John and Sherlock travelled back to 221B in silence.
John led Sherlock up through the door.
John led Sherlock up the stairs.
John led Sherlock into the kitchen.
He placed two glasses on the table and filled each of them with the wine he had stolen from Greg’s counter on the way out.
They sat opposite each other in silence until John began to talk. Sherlock didn’t interrupt.
“Never have I ever hated Anderson as much as I did back then.”
Neither drank.
“Never have I ever been wanted to punch someone so much.”
Neither drank.
“Never have I thought they’d be so cruel.”
Sherlock drank.
“My turn? Never have I ever been prouder to call you my friend.”
Neither drank.
“Never have I ever been so proud to be your friend.”
Neither drank.
“Never have I ever witnessed someone other than myself spouting deductions.”
“I was repeating what you told me.”
“It still counts.”
John drank.
“Never have I ever imagined you weren’t a virgin.”
Sherlock drank.
“Never have I ever felt this way.”
Neither drank.
“Never have I ever been unsure what to say before.”
John drank.
“Never have I ever hoped that we are thinking the same thing so much.”
Sherlock drank.
“Never have I ever been in love with my roommate before.”
Neither drank.
“Never had I dared hope he would feel the same way.”
“The game is ‘never have I ever’.”
Sherlock looked at him.
John drank.
“Never have I ever been in love with someone called John Watson.”
Sherlock drank.
John smiled.
Sherlock smiled.
“Never have I ever been in love with someone called Sherlock Holmes.”
“Liar.”
John drank.
Sherlock drank.
They stood.
Sherlock licked his lips.
“Never have I ever kissed someone I loved before.”
John’s eyes shone.
“My glass is empty.”
Sherlock drank what was left in his glass.
He lowered his head.
John raised his.
~~*~~
~4 months later~
“John, why are we here?”
“Because it’s a Christmas party, Sherlock.”
“And?”
“So at Christmas colleagues get together and celebrate.”
“Celebrate what exactly? The fact that we could be home in bed but instead you’re forcing me to socialise with these idiots. Or the fact that when we finally do get home we will not be leaving the bedroom until Christmas?”
“Look, just...smile, drink something and try not to insult anyone except Anderson...too much.”
At this point John decided that the sooner they went in, the sooner they could go home, and so he led Sherlock into the yard where he found Lestrade (eggnog in hand) by the buffet table, along with most of the yarders.
“Look everyone, John and his date have arrived.”
Well...better now than never.
John pulled Sherlock down, kissing him as if his life depended on it.
Lestrade barely paused for a second before asking the yarders who was closest to the 23rd.
“I believe that was me.”
Donovan stepped forward, hand outstretched waiting.
“What? Just because he’s a freak doesn’t mean I don’t see the way you two look at each other.”
Sherlock gave Donovan a rare smile before looking at John with a glint of something mischievous in his eye.
“So...does anyone fancy playing a game?”