"Time for bed I think, John." Sherlock said while getting shakily to his feet. He stumbled a bit before making his way over to where John was curled up in his chair.

"'S a good idea." John slurred, nodding his head. He instantly stopped when his brain felt like it was moving inside his skull.

"Come on John." Sherlock tugged at his sleeve in an attempt to get him up off the chair.

"Maybe I'll just kip here." John replied. He didn't think he could move even if he wanted to.

"John." Sherlock sighed in exasperation. "You'll regret sleeping there in the morning."

"Fine, fine." John said uncurling his limbs and slowly sitting up. Even that seemed like too much and he dropped his head back onto his chair and he shut his eyes.

"If you don't get up, I'll carry you." Sherlock threatened, looming over John, his hand on the back of John's chair. John's eyes snapped open and he looked up at his flat-mate to see if he was serious.

"You wouldn't."

"I would." Sherlock responded, his eyes menacing and his grin devilish.

"I can't move, my head feels like it's swimming in alcohol." John groaned, pressing his fingers to his temples and rubbing in small circles.

"You'll be fine." Sherlock reassured him, helping him to his feet. The movement was too quick and John hurled forward until Sherlock wrapped his arms around him to keep him from toppling over. But John already had too much momentum and as a result they both fell in a heap on the floor.

"Ow." John rubbed his elbow where it had made contact. Sherlock had landed half on top of John, with his face buried in the crook of his neck. Sherlock started giggling and that set John off and for a moment the two of them shook uncontrollably.

The laughing stopped when Sherlock pressed his lips to the bit of exposed flesh at the collar of his jumper. John went rigid, unsure how to respond. Had that been an accident? He stayed very still until Sherlock did it again, this time sucking a bit. John's head was fuzzy and he couldn't process what was happening. He couldn't think. It didn't feel bad; in fact it felt extremely pleasant. But his mind couldn't wrap around the fact that it was Sherlock who was doing it.

"Sherlock?" John whispered softly into the room, the man's name hanging in the air. The one word held so much, all the questions running through John's head, held in the single word. What are you doing? Are you sure? What does this mean? Is this going to ruin everything? What do you want? Why now? Is this only because you're drunk? Are you going to hate me in the morning? What happened to being married to your work? Why am I not stopping you? Do you want me to stop you?

"Is this alright?" Sherlock murmured against John's skin, making it tingle with the feel of his hot breath on his neck.

"Yes." John answered back almost immediately. He swallowed, trying to relieve his mouth of the dryness that had overtaken it.

It seemed to be all the confirmation Sherlock needed. "Come on." He said rising to his feet in way that was too graceful for his current state. John couldn't help hating him just a bit for being so elegant even when smashed.

Sherlock held out his hand and John accepted it, pulling himself up. He leaned into Sherlock to keep himself upright. They made their way towards the stairs until John lost his footing and they went sailing to the wall, John put his arms up to brace himself as they smacked into it, Sherlock's head bumping against it with a soft thud.

"You and Mrs. Hudson's eggnog are really a quite hazardous combination." Sherlock mused, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the wall. John couldn't help noticing that his friend was trying to suppress a grin.

John had his hands on the wall on either side of Sherlock, trapping him in. It would have been quite a suggestive stance if it were anyone else. But this was John and Sherlock. Sherlock was his best friend and things just simply weren't like that between them. But then his mind conjured up the image of Sherlock sucking his neck. He reached up and touched where Sherlock's mouth had been, wondering if that had actually happened.

"Yes." Sherlock nodded as if he could read John's mind. John looked at him, his blue-grey eyes looking vibrant in the darkness of the room. John stared at him unblinkingly, transfixed for a moment. Sherlock chewed thoughtfully at his bottom lip as if deciding something before he curled his fingers around the nape of John's neck and pulled him closer. He stopped when they were less than an inch apart, their lips barely touching, giving John a chance to pull away. John felt high on the feeling of sharing breath with Sherlock and he knew he wouldn't pull away even if doing so were the smart course of action.

Instead he pressed forward with his whole body, from knees to chest until finally their lips connected. "This is a terrible idea." John said giving Sherlock a series of short kisses, which his flat-mate returned.

"Worse than running after serial killers?" Sherlock asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"So you're saying what were currently engaged in could be dangerous?" John asked moving in and giving Sherlock a long, languid kiss that finally involved the use of their tongues.

"Definitely." Sherlock breathed, his eyes shut tight and his breathing shallow.

"But I'm drunk." John reasoned, running his hand down Sherlock's arm slowly until their hands met and their fingers twined.

"Excellent deduction." Sherlock replied dryly.

"And so are you." John pressed on, ignoring Sherlock's sarcasm.

"Also very astute of you, although I'm not that drunk."

"Yes you are."

"I have a very high tolerance for alcohol."

"How, you're so skinny, like a strong wind would knock you over. There's no way you're not pissed."

"You've had more than I have." Sherlock argued.

"Hardly. Every time I filled my glass I filled yours too because you're too lazy to get up and—"

"John." Sherlock interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"Shut up." Sherlock said before pulling on their entwined hands so John stumbled back into him, their lips crashing together. Their kisses became sloppy as Sherlock sucked greedily on John's tongue. Any thoughts of protestation left John's mind and were filled instead with Sherlock. God, he could kiss those full, pink lips for hours. But Sherlock seemed to have other ideas as he started pulling John towards the bedroom. The stairs were difficult to manage in their intoxicated state but it was better than trying to navigate the clutter of Sherlock's room.

They crashed in through the door, yanking and pulling at each other in a swirl of limbs and teeth and tongues. They eventually made it over to the bed, tumbling in it together. "I didn't think you did this." John said breathlessly as he took his time unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

"This being sex?" Sherlock asked, enjoying the feel of John's strong and calloused hands against his skin as more of his flesh became exposed.

"Yes." John nodded before lowering his head and taking one of Sherlock's nipples into his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth and making Sherlock moan.

"And I thought you were completely – Ah! – heterosexual." Sherlock countered almost like an accusation.

"Mostly I am but I'm willing to make an exception." John shrugged before moving his attention over to the other nipples, running his tongue over and around it.

"As am I." Sherlock responded, fisting his hands into John's hair.

They began kissing again, sloppy, wet kisses that only stopped when one of them had to break away to remove some clothing. When they were both stripped of all their layers, the laid flush against each other with Sherlock staring up at John with heavy-lidded eyes.

"God, I knew you were going to be trouble the moment I agreed to move in here." John sighed, running his thumb along Sherlock's cheek.

"Is that what I am?" Sherlock asked with a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah." John nodded before lowering his head to kiss Sherlock thoroughly. He rocked his hips experimentally, his cock sliding up Sherlock's leg until it made contact with Sherlock's. He moved, lining up their hips and did it again, causing Sherlock to moan against his mouth. "Definitely trouble."

John started kissing down Sherlock's face, across his cheek and down to his jaw. He nipped at Sherlock's chin before descending down, sucking at the freckle on his neck. He continued lower, trailing his tongue across Sherlock's stomach and dipping it into his belly button. He followed the line of hair down and flicked his tongue against the tip of Sherlock's prick. He rested back on his heels, bent over Sherlock and positioned in between his legs with a tantalizing view of his very erect penis.

"John…" Sherlock groaned, arching up as an invitation. John accepted it, taking the bulbous head of Sherlock's cock into his mouth and sucking hard. He slipped his fingers into Sherlock's mouth, who started running his tongue around them and sucking in turns. John moved his mouth lower onto Sherlock's prick and pulled back up, grazing his teeth along his length.

"hmgsh" Sherlock mumbled around John's fingers. John pulled up and off, pressing a kiss to the head. He slipped his spit slick fingers out of Sherlock's mouth and moved them down until they were pressed against Sherlock's opening. He moved them in small circles until he felt Sherlock relax. He pressed them in slowly, giving Sherlock time to adjust.

"Oh God. Oh God." Sherlock cried out, tilting his hips up and allowing John better access, his head thrown back against the pillows.

John moved them back out and immediately pressed them back in. "Christ." He said dropping his head against Sherlock's hip. The tight heat and the feel of Sherlock clenching around him made his cock start leaking in anticipation. He moved them in again, this time finding that bump, stroking it slowly while Sherlock writhed against the sheets.

"John…" Sherlock groaned, grinding his hips down against the other man's fingers, pushing them in deeper, his head thrashing back and forth.

John started licking up and down Sherlock shaft with his fingers scissoring inside his hole, opening him up. His thumb began rubbing Sherlock's perineum, moving in slow circles and then up and down, massaging the area. Sherlock's legs were shaking and he fisted his hands into John's hair, tugging on it slightly. He licked the underside of Sherlock's cock from root to tip and then stretched his lips around him and sunk back down. He did a few long pulls, taking Sherlock as deep as he could without choking.

"John please." Sherlock begged, unsure what for. To come, to have John inside him, for something. He needed more, he needed everything.

John dislodged his mouth, his lips red and swollen from sucking. He also slipped his fingers out and Sherlock whimpered at the loss. John crawled up his body and gave him a long, deep kiss. "Be right back." He said slipping off the bed.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock whined, eyes following John as he went across the hall to the bathroom. He stumbled around, his feet failing him and he kept one hand on the wall to keep himself steady. He stubbed his toe the doorframe of the bathroom and hissed from the pain. He rubbed it for a moment, his head spinning a bit.

He opened the cabinet behind the mirror until he found what he was looking for. He returned with just as much difficulty, the Vaseline in hand. He tripped over his own feet and went crashing into the bed.

"Oof." He said landing on his stomach right next to Sherlock.

"Ok?" Sherlock drawled.

John nodded and looked over at Sherlock, his mouth gaping open the moment he noticed his flat-mate stroking himself slowly. "Jesus fucking fuck." He said mesmerized by the sight of his friend sated and relaxed, gently playing with himself.

John flipped over onto his back and opened the tub of Vaseline. He scooped up a bit of the goop and began applying it to his cock. Sherlock watched avidly, both of them touching themselves with the same punishing strokes. When John was all slicked up, he rolled over on top of Sherlock and slipped his finger back into his hole, making sure he was still open enough to take him.

"John, I've waited long enough." Sherlock groaned as John played with his prostate, brushing his finger against it unhurriedly.

"Tell me you want this." John requested,

"Obviously." Sherlock slurred, the end of the word coming out as a bit of a mumble.

"With me, this is something you want with me. It's not just about getting off but that you want me to be the one who does it." John wouldn't be able to continue if he didn't know this was something Sherlock wanted. He was dreading the thought that this was merely convenience or an experiment. He didn't think he'd be able to handle Sherlock not wanting him in the same way.

"Yes, John yes." Sherlock replied, pulling John's face to his for a toe-curling kiss. Their tongues slid against each other's and Sherlock snaked his hand down, fisting his hand around John's cock and jerking him. "I want this. Want you. So long. Please. I need it. Need to feel you."

"That's not the alcohol talking, is it?" John asked, not ready to trust this yet. There was still so much that could go wrong. But Sherlock's hand was still around John's prick, fingers playing with John's foreskin, pulling it back to rub his thumb over the glands.

Sherlock shook his head. "Means to an end. We would have gotten here eventually, the alcohol just sped up the process. Now please stop talking and fuck me."

"I don't think I've ever heard you say please so much."

"You're still talking." Sherlock frowned.

"Right, shutting up now." John said bending down to press more kisses to Sherlock's lips. He slowly eased his cock out of Sherlock's grasp and ran the head up and down the cleft of Sherlock's arse a few times before pressing in.

"Yes. More. Yes." Sherlock hissed, grinding his hips down, trying to hurry the process.

"Slow down." John insisted, grabbing Sherlock's hips and stilling him. John continued pressing in at his own pace, thrusting in slowly, pushing back out and thrusting in deeper still each time.

John's body had broken out in sweat as he continued to ease into his flat-mate. Sherlock had wrapped his legs around John, his heels digging into his arse. Sherlock was making keening noises, a wanton look on his face as he stared at John through dark, hooded eyes. When John was buried to the hilt, he kissed his friend, sucking and biting at his plump lips.

John stayed stationary for a moment, allowing Sherlock time to adjust. When he started moving, his motions were slow, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in as deep as possible. They mouths moved to compensate for their bodies sliding against each other's. They didn't break apart until John quickened his pace, making it difficult to keep their lips together.

John alternated between slow, even and deep thrusts that made Sherlock gasp and quick, sharp thrusts that sent sparks of arousal shuddering through Sherlock's body. He had his lips parted and was panting, clinging to John as he drove endlessly into him.

"Christ Sherlock, this is… unlike anything I've ever…fuck." John murmured, losing his train of thought. He was lost in the feeling of Sherlock tight and hot around him, holding onto him as if his life depended on it.

"John…" Sherlock said in one long moan.

Sherlock's cheeks had become flushed, his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes darker than John had ever seen them. "You're so fucking gorgeous, especially now, just like this." John sighed, looking down at the man he adored.

"John, so good. John. You always know how to take care of me. How to make me feel complete." I love you.

Sherlock froze for a moment. Had he said that out loud or had he merely thought it? He couldn't tell but from the way John had stopped moving, he assumed he had probably spoken the words. Bugger. This was why he never drank alcohol. It stopped the wires connecting his brain to his mouth, causing him to blurt out things. Things that shouldn't be spoken. Damn. Damn, damn, damn it all to hell.

John was staring at him, his eyes widened in disbelief. Sherlock desperately tried to think of something he could add on to make it less awkward. I love you…living here with me. I love you coming with me on cases. I love you being my blogger. I love you as a friend. I love you being inside me. It was too late now though, too much time had passed. Oh God what had he done? John was never supposed to know and now he did and it was going to ruin everything.

Sherlock swallowed around the lump in his throat and turned his face away. John reached up and gently started stroking Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock tentatively brought his gaze back to John's, who lowered his head so their foreheads were resting against each other's. For a moment they just stared at each other, Sherlock never forgetting the fullness he felt of John still inside him.

And to Sherlock's amazement, John actually laughed. Just a soft chuckle with a soft shake of his head, making their foreheads and noses rub against each other's and sending a pleasant vibration through Sherlock. "You couldn't have picked a worse time to tell me that."

"Nonsense. I can think of loads of worse instances to make such a declaration." Sherlock argued wondering if he should mention a few to ease the tension. John please just ignore my idiotic outburst so we can continue on as we have been or better yet go back to fucking me so I can feel like I'm yours at least for a little while.

"Mad bastard." John grumbled before attacking Sherlock's mouth with his own. He rocked his hips and started to move again, gaining speed with each thrust. Sherlock felt all the tension leave his body and got lost in John. He tilted his hips up and John's cock brushed against his prostate, making him gasp and clutch John tighter. He was fairly certain he would never let go.

"Yes, right there, do that again." Sherlock pleaded as John drove into him nice and deep, cock brushing against that sweet spot over and over until Sherlock was hardly coherent.

"Christ." John swore as Sherlock's head was thrown back, his neck elongated. John lowered his head and sucking the pale and inviting skin until it turned purple. He bit at the bruise that had formed, causing Sherlock to spasm underneath him and eliciting a sharp gasp.

John snaked his hand between their bodies and began wanking Sherlock in long twisting pulls. Sherlock was breathless, his mind going blank at the overwhelming stimulation. John began jerking him in time to his thrusts and Sherlock felt his orgasm coiling inside him. He was reduced to desperate moans and whimpers until he felt himself right on the edge. One quick, hard thrust against his prostate and a tight tug on his cock and he tipped over. "Oh, John. Oh. Oh. John!" he cried out, his body shuddering and shaking as his release spilled between them.

The feeling of Sherlock clenching around him as he finished his orgasm sent John spiraling as well and with a few more thrusts, he buried his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck and muffled his shout of ecstasy against his friend's skin. He rode out the end of his orgasm and then untangled himself from his flat-mate, falling to the bed next to him. He closed his eyes for a moment but could feel Sherlock's gaze on him. He looked over and noticed Sherlock was biting his lower lip, looking unsure of what to do next.

John grabbed his t-shirt off the floor and cleaned them both up before chucking it at his hamper. He scooted closer to the man in bed with him, wrapping his arm around him. Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder, hiding his face in John's neck. He reached down and cupped Sherlock's chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"You know, I think I might be too drunk to remember what you said."

Sherlock looked at him, his eyes searching for the meaning behind John's words. Was John letting him off the hook? Was he saying they should just forget what Sherlock had said? If it would make things less awkward then Sherlock was willing to delete that part of the evening but keep the rest. Especially the part where John called him gorgeous.

John brought Sherlock's face to his and kissed him slowly and unhurriedly. When they finally broke apart, John didn't go far, their lips still touching as John murmured "I think you'll have to remind me in the morning. And the next morning and every one that follows."

John smiled and the sight made Sherlock's heart flutter. Surely that wasn't the right response to something as simple as someone smiling at you. But it was John and he had such a nice smile. Sherlock put his head back down on John's shoulder and threw his leg over John's, snuggling in closer.

"If that's what you want." Sherlock muttered, eyes already drooping closed.

"It is." John said pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "If it helps, when you tell me tomorrow morning, I'm going to inform you that I love you too."

Sherlock smiled to himself and squeezed John tighter. "This Christmas is infinitely better than all the other's combined." He said with a yawn, ready to drift off to peaceful slumber.

"So next Christmas I won't have to listen to you complain?" John asked as he pulled the duvet out their intertwined bodies.

"If I do you have my permission to kiss me until I shut up."

"I think I might do that anyways." John chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Good." Sherlock sighed in relief, settling in against John in what he could only describe as contentment.

"Happy Christmas Sherlock."

"Happy Christmas John."

~End~