on the right side of the wrong bed

Part 1

When John had announced the idea of going on what Sherlock could only call a 'date' to the opening night of a bar in downtown London Sherlock could already tell him what drinks were going to be served.

"Well, we'll only know if your right if we go down." John replied in hope.

"You know I'm right, I'm always right." Sherlock said, measuring out a beaker of acid and pouring the purple liquid into the first step of his chemistry sets many odd shaped glasses.

"Yet my sisters a lesbian," John mumbled, knowing that all he'd get is Sherlocks witty comebacks about the size of a scratch on Harry's old phone, or something, "Sherlock lets just have a night off."

"You can have a night off, go find a new Sarah or something, I'm busy," Sherlock bent over to watch the reactions taking place before standing back up and taking off his rubber gloves.

"Your not still talking about her are you, there have been others, you know?" John sighed, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb.

"Who was the last one? The assassin or the one with the mole? I can't keep up." He straightened his back and raised his eyebrows.

"The mole," He grumbled sitting back into his chair.

"Ah, Lucy." Sherlock smiled to himself.

"Where are you going?" John furrowed his eyebrows, turning to watch Sherlock stride to the stairs.

"I told Mrs Hudson I'd watch for the post she was supposed to get," He shouted bouncing down the first three steps before John pulled himself up and grabbed the arm of his suit jacket.

"Don't trick me I've lived with you long enough," John shook his head, "The postman doesn't come at seven o'clock at night."

"What if this ones different?" Sherlock pushed on, "A secret mafia member?"

"Shut up and get your coat." John pushed him towards the coat rack as he shuffled up the stairs to his room. He could just over hear Sherlock groaning to himself and then a rustling of coats at the bottom of both flights of stairs he'd jogged up. He took one of the neatly folded purple shirts from his deep draw, pulling the three day old Christmas present from Harry over his head and replacing it with the new shirt. He flattened the creases from his torso and took off back down the stairs to find Sherlock texting, stood against the wall oblivious to Johns presence as he took his khaki coloured coat from the stand and opened the door. The cold wind pushed Sherlocks fringe to the left, grabbing his attention and pulling his head up from the text to most likely Lestrade about their next case.

John smiled fondly, standing on his toes and brushing Sherlocks flat curls back in place while Sherlocks hands were full finishing off the most interesting text. 

"Greg can wait," John took Sherlocks phone from his long fingers looking down at the text before stopping. The name on his phone wasn't Lestrade, but a well known Molly Hooper. The taller man cleared his throat awkwardly turning his back to John and walking away into the darkness of the winters night. John instantly closed the phone and slipped it into his top pocket.

Sherlock had already hailed a cab, as usual, and John opened the door for him and followed after into the warm transport. He told the driver the address and they sat in silence until they got to the other side of London, when Sherlock told John he'd pay for the cab and hopped out into the busy street. John skipped to the front of the queue, giving the man at the door his ID and nodded for Sherlock to follow. People were stood everywhere, blue, red and purple lights flashing around. He looked behind him, realising there was no longer a body close behind him and look around for Sherlocks' coat. He didn't bother going any further into finding him and went to the bar.

He stayed in the same place for what felt like hours until he was snapped out of his mourning state of the loss of Sherlock. A few shouts were exchanged before John registered whose voice was echoing in his mind. He pushed up from the bar, knocking his drink over in the process.

Once he'd pushed through many drunken bodies, a circle was made in the middle of the dance floor where Sherlock stood in a cocky pose, swaying side to side on his big feet pushing his hand in the other mans red face.

"You're a homosexual!" He shout, "Your shoes say it all, what are those? Stop playing with all these girls, and just deal with yourself!"

John stepped in just before the man tried to take a hard swing at Sherlock. He grabbed the mans arms and pushed him softly out of the way.

"Look! This is my friend, John Watson. Everyone thinks we're dating! I've never even said no because who cares, he just saved me a black eye." Sherlock slurred smiling at John haphazardly, "Who'd say no to a relationship to him anyway?"

John rolled his eyes trying to calm Sherlock with shushes and whispers. The man looked furious in front of John and Sherlock. He was much larger than both Sherlock and John, in a very tight shirt with his hair slicked back.

"Come on, Sherlock." John tried taking Sherlock out of the circle but the boozy adults wouldn't move. He tried everyday but the man behind then just chuckled darkly.

"Take your psychopathic boyfriend out of here if you don't want that black eye for both of you." The man growled. No one would move, "The pair of you are crazy, get yourselves together."

"Leave it!" John bursed, "Can't you fucking see I'm trying to get out!" Sherlock fell limp against John as he held his body up. The man tutted trying to through another punch but John managed to move quick enough to miss it. The man looked shocked. Not wanting to embarrass himself anymore, the man rolled his eyes and nodded towards the door, taking the inner ring of people with him and leaving John and Sherlock free to leave.

John sighed, taking Sherlock out of the club and sitting him against the wall, waiting for a taxi.

"Thank you," Sherlock yawned, blinking slowly at John, "I meant what I said, anyone would be a fool not you want to be in a relationship with you."

John smiled, nodding before holding his hand out as a man pulled up and took them back to Baker Street.

Josh pulled out his key, opening the door and guiding a swaying Sherlock to the coat rack and taking his coat and scarf from him. He slide down the wall, John stopping him from hitting his bum hard on the floor and taking him further into 221b to his bedroom.

"That's it, into bed," John patted the clear space in the empty bed for Sherlock to lay down. Sherlock obeyed, turning his head on the soft pillow and closing his eyes. John tucked him in and walked away until he felt a familiar hand on his coat covered wrist.

"Don't go," Sherlock looked helpless with his green eyes opened wide. John smiled, moving Sherlocks hand onto the covers before bending to Sherlocks hight and placing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Have a rest and ask me in the morning," He chuckled, leaving Sherlock to sleep. He slipped off his coat reading to leave it on the coat rack and go back up to his room until he heard the text tone on Sherlocks phone still in his top pocket ring. He pulled it out, Molly's name flashing on the phone with one message.

Let him be your hero, Sherlock. X