Ahhh, sorry, I'm focusing on my mental health.
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Sherlock stood in the middle of a crowd of teenagers, standing still and with an angry expression as the shoulders, hips, and arms of young adults and teens bumped against him.
He had lost John and didn't know what to do. The people here were drunk and making out. It was absolutely horrid.
And yet, somewhere in between about two hundred teenagers, there was a murderer and there was a John Hamish Watson.
And Sherlock was determined to stand exactly where he was until his friend John found him, or a knife stabbed him in the back.
"Heeeey, Sweet Cheeks." A teenage girl dressed quite wildly dragged her hand across Sherlock's back. "What brings you here?"
"Hello. You're fifteen and I'm thirty five. Please step back." Sherlock smiled awkwardly.
The girl made a weird face and walked away.
Sherlock put his hands in his pockets and hummed quietly.
He felt someone's back press against his own. He turned around, his face brightening up. "John!" He smiled, putting his hands on John's shoulders. John looked up at him, looking sort of freaked out.
"Ah, oh, not so loud there..." John instinctively grabbed Sherlock's arms. "Shh..."
"Oh, god, did you drink something?" Sherlock frowned.
"Uhm," John held up his hand, as if asking for him to wait a moment. John looked away and made a concentrated look, then turned back to Sherlock. "Yeah, yeah, I really wanna kiss you. I'm feeling kinda gay."
Sherlock's cheeks went pink. "Oh--" He frowned. "Haha, okay, John, let's bring you home."
Sherlock took John's hand and was about to lead him out, but John pulled Sherlock's hand down and leant up, kissing him passionately.
John's sudden action made Sherlock gasp. He stood there with his lips shut, John kissing him. Sherlock didn't want his first kiss with John to happen like this.
He pulled away and put his hands on John's hips. He slipped his hands down and wrapped his arms around John's thighs, picking him up. He started going out and walked to a less crowded area, while John kissed Sherlock's neck and moaned and moved his hands around him.
Sherlock shook his head. "John, stop. You're probably high or drunk or something..."
"I've looved you foreeeeverrr!"
"Okay, John. Let's forget about the case and bring you home."
John wrapped his legs around Sherlock and kissed him passionately "Nope!"
Sherlock pulled away. "Jo--"
John kissed him again. This time, Sherlock accepted it. He kissed him back. But once John was out of breath and pulled away, Sherlock walked out of the building and started walking to a place they could get a cab.
"Coooome on!" John whined. "Kiss me more!"
"Shh!" Sherlock put his hand on the back of John's head and pushed his face into his shoulder. He pat John's back softly. "We're going home."
"Oh, the bedroom!"
"No!" Sherlock pushed John against his shoulder and continued to rub his back.
John closed his eyes and smiled, passing out. When he woke up again, he was laying in his bed. He groaned and rubbed his temple, rolling onto his side.
"Oh--" He screeched, jumping up. "Sherlock Holmes!"
Sherlock opened his eyes slightly. "Hey..."
"God, what are you doing in my bed?!"
"I'm sleeping." Sherlock mumbled tiredly, letting his eyes close. "You wouldn't shut up until I got into bed with you... but don't worry, John. You were the drunk one. I didn't do anything."
"What did I do?!"
"A lot." Sherlock smirked, then rolled onto his other side, his bare back facing John. "I'll tell you later..."