Watching You Fall Omegle 59

Stranger: “Goodnight, John,” Rene said, allowing himself to give the doctor a small smile. “See you in the morning.”

You: John changed quickly in the bathroom and slid into bed with Sherlock. He wrapped his arms around the taller man, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Goodnight, Sherlock,” John whispered.

Stranger: “Goodnight, John,” Sherlock smiled, snuggling back closer in John’s grip. He tilted his head back slightly to place an awkward kiss to John’s temple before turning back and closing his eyes. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of having John so close.

You: The hours passed quickly, an insistent beeping from Sherlock’s phone waking John at four AM. He groaned and turned the thing off before shaking Sherlock’s shoulder. “Sherlock, come on, love,” John coaxed him. “Time to wake up.”

Stranger: Sherlock groaned and turning in John’s arms, blinking up hazily at the doctor. “Sadly,” he muttered, leaning in to peck John on the lips, but missing slightly and hitting the corner of his mouth. He groaned again and rolled his head back.

You: John took a moment to kiss Sherlock’s neck again as it was revealed then licked a stripe up to his jaw. Laughing, John got out of bed to dress and start coffee in the coffeemaker in the bathroom.

Stranger: Sherlock growled as John got up, just wanting to lay in bed some more and hold his doctor. He forced himself up, though, and followed John into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Good morning, love,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to John’s cheek.

You: "Good morning," John replied, yawning. He curled his hands over Sherlock's forearms, resting his head back against the other man's shoulder. "I could get used to this, you know."

Stranger: "As could I, love," Sherlock muttered, smiling slightly. "Especially at night, it can get quite cold here."

You: "Well, if everything goes according to plan, we can go home," John told him, turning his head and kissing Sherlock's temple. "Now get out of here and let me get dressed." He stepped out of Sherlock's arms and gave the taller man a playful shove, a smile on his lips.

Stranger: "I've already seen you naked," Sherlock pouted, placing his hands on John's. "I can't see you dress?" He gave John his best pouting face, batting his lashes playfully.

You: "You really think we can manage to keep our hands off each other if either of us is naked?" John asked wryly, arching one eyebrow at Sherlock. He didn't let the smile fade but stepped forward and kissed Sherlock again. "Later, I promise," he murmured against Sherlock's lips.

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock frowned, pulling John closer by his hips. "But I'm going to hold you to it."

You: "I'd be disappointed if you didn't," John laughed, pushing away from Sherlock again. "You might want to go wake Rene up. Coffee should be ready soon."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded before starting out to the living room. He moved over to Rene and shook his shoulder. "Time to get up," he said as Rene moaned lightly.

You: "I hate mornings," Rene grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. The coffee had started to percolate by now and the scent was permeating the room. "Is that coffee?" Rene asked Sherlock hopefully.

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock chuckled, shaking his head. "John's making the cups in the bathroom with that pathetic excuse for a coffee maker. Should be done in a few minutes." Sherlock stood up straight and started back to the room, going to get his own clothes.


You: Rene got up off the couch to dig through the duffel bag he'd been living out of. As he grabbed a clean set of clothes, John finished in the bathroom and came out carrying two cups of coffee. He handed one to Sherlock while Rene beelined for the bathroom and the coffeepot.

Stranger: "Thanks, love," Sherlock smiled as John handed him the coffee. He looked up as he heard the bathroom door snap shut and sighed. "Guess I get to wait again," he sighed, obviously irritated.

You: "You're welcome," John told him before sipping at his own coffee. It was still too hot to gulp, which is what John really wanted to do with it. "Don't worry, Sherlock. You'll be able to change soon." He wrapped one arm snugly around Sherlock's waist and kissed his cheek before taking another sip of coffee.

Stranger: "I know," Sherlock said, leaning down to peck on John's cheek. "Guess I'm stuck here with you for a little while longer." He smirked, nuzzling John's neck.

You: "How horrible for you," John murmured dryly, his eyes closing in pleasure. He pressed closer to Sherlock, stroking the other man's side with his fingers. They stood like that until Rene came out of the bathroom, dressed and a cup of coffee held possessively in one hand.

Stranger: "I'm suffering," Sherlock said, chuckling and nipping at John's neck. He kissed him once more before going into the bathroom.

You: John shook his head at Sherlock's departing back, settling down on the couch to check his gun one more time. It was a habit he'd picked up in the military and something that kept him distracted when he didn't want to think. He saw Rene out of the corner of his eye, the other man settling on the couch and frowning at his coffee. "Something wrong?" John asked.

Stranger: "I don't know, to be honest," Rene muttered slowly. "I guess it's just that... I've worked for this man for... So long. I grew up with him... I don't know..."

You: John continued to inspect his gun, hoping that Rene wasn't having second thoughts about the man who had basically raised him. "You can always choose not to go," John said casually. "Especially if this is going to be difficult for you."

Stranger: "I have to go," Rene said, shaking his head. "I can't stay with him. I'm miserable and if I don't leave now... I may never be able to. I may lose my opportunity."

You: "As long as you've made your choice and stick with it," John said seriously. "I don't want to have to worry about you as well as those guards."

Stranger: Rene chuckled dryly. "You won't," he said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't shoot you guys. You wouldn't have to worry."

You: "Good," John replied, nodding decisively. It was a horrible idea to take someone you weren't sure of into a combat situation, especially if they might side with the enemy. And John would do nothing that put Sherlock at risk, not now. They sat in companionable silence until Sherlock came out of the bathroom.

Stranger: "You guys ready to go?" Sherlock asked, moving into the room and giving the two men a glance before turning back to his gun, which he was putting in the small of his back.

You: "I believe so," John said, standing and tucking his gun away. Rene stood up, a determined expression on his face. "We need to hurry," he explained, heading to the door. "The shift change for the guards is at 5:30 this morning. Desmond likes to keep people on their toes by giving them weird times to do things."

Stranger: "Alright, let's head out then," Sherlock said, Rene heading to the door and going out first. Sherlock stepped up next to John, wrapping his arm around the doctor's waist as they marched down the hallway. "It's good to be back on a case with you," he muttered into John's ear.

You: "I have missed this," John replied softly, a fond smile crossing his face. "London has been boring without you." He timed his steps for a few seconds until he and Sherlock were walking together and followed Rene. They found a lone cab sitting outside the hotel, the driver half asleep. Rene gave the address as they all settled into a seat.

Stranger: Sherlock cuddled closer to John as Rene leaned back in his seat. "And it's been boring without you as well, as have every other place I've been. It's all been so... Lonely..." he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

You: John nodded sadly, wrapping an arm around Sherlock's waist and pressing one hand possessively on his hip. "I know," he whispered back. "I wish there was some way you could have told me."

Stranger: "I wished that everyday I was away from you, John," Sherlock said slowly, moving closer to the doctor. "That's the only reason I presented myself as Dean, just to get close to you again."

You: John nodded again and sighed, leaning his forehead against Sherlock's shoulder for a moment. Then a thought crossed his mind. "So when Moran was asking about the two agents after him, that was you and Mycroft," John stated slowly. "You were the one shot."

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said, nodding and resting his head on John's. "That was me. I did get shot and, if Mycroft had gone after Moran like I told him to, I would have died."

You: "It's a good thing he didn't," John replied, voice turning angry. He growled as he thought of Moran, wishing suddenly that he had been the one to kill the sniper even though it went against all his instincts as a doctor. As John pointed out once to Sherlock, he was a soldier too. "Where were you shot?"

Stranger: "Once in the thigh and once in the shoulder. It's all fine, though. I mean, I'm alive," Sherlock shrugged with one shoulder.

You: John immediately ran one hand down both of Sherlock's thighs, finding the scar from the bullet wound with his fingers. He traced around the scar, feeling how close the shot had come to Sherlock's femoral artery. "This would have killed you had he hesitated," John murmured, his chest coiling with dread.

Stranger: "I know," Sherlock said, flinching as John felt the scar. He knew the doctor was likely analyzing just how close it had come to his artery and, had it had hit there, how much faster he would have died. Sherlock knew that if the bullet hit his artery, he probably wouldn't have made it to the hospital on time.

You: John noticed the flinch and pulled his fingers away. "Sorry, does it still hurt?" he apologized, resting his hand on his own thigh. John wanted to look at the wound on Sherlock's shoulder as well, but knew it would have to wait until they were in a slightly more private place than a taxi.

Stranger: "No, it doesn't... I just don't want you to worry," Sherlock said, placing his hand on top of John's, squeezing it gently. "I'm fine, John. It's just like yours, a reminder. It's no big deal..."

You: "I can't believe you told Mycroft to let you bleed out to chase Moran," John said, nudging his shoulder into Sherlock's. "Though, on second thought, that is completely you." Rene snorted, unable to help himself. The taxi was small so the best he could do was pretend not to hear their conversation.

Stranger: "I didn't honestly think it was as bad as it was," Sherlock muttered, looking at their joined hands. "And what do you mean that's 'completely me'?"

You: John laughed, the sound loud in the car. "You're the one who shot the wall because he was bored," John replied. "You're the one who wanted to call Greg about a missing rabbit because I wouldn't give you your cigarettes. Danger is sometimes your first and middle names, Sherlock."

Stranger: "And yours aren't? Besides, how is calling in a missing rabbit dangerous?" Sherlock growled, smirking. "Admit it, you're just as bad as I am!"

You: "Very true," John admitted, shrugging. Though a smile danced at the corners of his mouth. "I'm here, aren't I?" Rene laughed again as the driver pulled up outside a dilapidated warehouse. He paid the driver while Sherlock and John got out, joining the two men to stare up at the building.

Stranger: "You know this place better than either of us, Rene," Sherlock said, scanning the building. "Would you happen to know the best place to be? We have about half an hour before the shifts change, by the way."

You: Rene narrowed his eyes as he studied the building, trying to remember where everything was. "I think... we should go to the back," he finally said. "There's a blind corner that we can hide in and take out the men as they come out to investigate our distraction."

Stranger: "Lead the way," Sherlock muttered, motioning ahead of them. He stepped up next to John and the two of them followed Rene around the building.

You: Rene stopped at the far corner of the building, looking around quickly and noting where the door was. He turned to Sherlock and asked, "You ready for this? If we throw the firework before they change, the current guards should be slow and tired. Easily taken care of?" As he spoke, Rene pulled out the little firework he had picked up and a lighter.

Stranger: "I'm ready. That'll give us a twenty-five minute window to get in, get Mary and get out. Are you ready for that, John?" Sherlock asked, turning to his partner.

You: "Of course," John replied, pulling out the gun and double-checking to make sure it was loaded. His face took on a grim cast, though a thrill lit his eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock loved the fire that lit in John's eyes but resisted kissing him and instead turned to Rene. "Set it off," he said, pulling out his own gun and checking the load. He clicked off the safety and nudged John to do the same, watching Rene lit the fire cracker.

You: "Fire in the hole," Rene stated, a grin on his face. He tossed the firecracker then took refuge around the corner. "I've always wanted to say that," he confided to Sherlock and John. About five seconds later, the firecracker exploded with a sharp crack.

Stranger: "Let's go," John muttered, pushing Rene out in front of him and darting out in front of Sherlock. He couldn't help but want to put himself between harm and Sherlock. They ducked behind the corner - Sherlock forced to duck behind John - and aimed their guns, waiting.

You: A couple minutes later, two men came out the door to glare around, confused. "What do you think it was?" one whispered to the other. The other man shrugged and replied, "Car backfire?"

Stranger: John aimed his gun and took the first shot, hitting the guy square in the chest, where he knew it would be almost an instant kill. He heard a shot from his left and watched the second guy fall, his leg bleeding badly from the shot from Sherlock. John aimed and quickly took another shot, Rene firing not a millisecond after he did, both hitting the man in the head. If nothing else, that had killed him.

You: "Wait for the other two," John whispered, pulling Sherlock back around the corner and sending a glance to Rene. "The shots will draw them out."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and got down back behind John, placing a gentle hand on the small of his back as a job well done. They waited until two other men - bigger than the first pair - came out.

You: "What the hell?" the first exclaimed, checking on both downed men. They were obviously dead, blood pooling underneath them. The other man pulled a gun and scanned the alley, trying to find whoever had shot the first two guards.

Stranger: Sherlock fired his gun and hit the man without a pulled gun. The other man, the bigger of the two, turning in their direction and aimed.

You: Rene aimed and fired within a few seconds, a neat hole appearing in the last guard's forehead. He fell, the gun tumbling from nerveless fingers. "Let's go," Sherlock said, walking up to the door and shoving through it imperiously.

Stranger: John jogged and stepped up right next to Sherlock, making sure he could throw himself between Sherlock and any harm they may cross. "Where would they hold her?" John muttered even though the guards were dead.

You: "In the most secure room," Rene answered, looking around the hallway they were standing in. "Something interior with no windows. Let's try this way." Rene moved off, checking each room in the hallway as he passed to make sure no one else was hiding in them.

Stranger: John and Sherlock followed silently, their guns at the ready next to their sides. John scanned each room as well as Rene opened the doors.

You: They finally found Mary down another hallway in an interior room. She was bound to a chair, a blindfold over her eyes. Bruises marred her skin and her head hung down onto her chest as if she was exhausted. "Mary?" John asked softly, hoping the woman was still alive.

Stranger: Mary's head snapped up and turned in the direction of the voice. "Please," she muttered, her voice soft and weak. "Don't-don't hurt me... You're him, aren't you? The one they said was going to come and rape me?! Get away from me!!" Her voice was shaky and scared, her body tense and wrists where the rope held her were bleeding.

You: "We're not going to hurt you," John told her, moving quickly to her side and pulling the blindfold off. "My name's John and we're here to get you out of here." He worked at the rope around her wrists, trying to undo the knots. It was nearly impossible; her struggles had tightened the knots and blood caked them.

Stranger: Even after the reassurance, Sherlock still saw the slight fear in her eyes. He watched as John worked the knots, struggling slightly to get them to come undone. "We have ten minutes till the new shift comes around," he said, looking from John to Rene - who had taken post at the door with his gun ready. "Can you get the knot, John?"

You: "It's too tight," John admitted, glaring at the knot in his hand. "Either of you have a pocketknife on you?" He continued to work at the knot, trying to loosen it, but it remained stubbornly tight.

Stranger: "No," Rene said as Sherlock shook his head. He knelt down next to John and gently pushed him out of the way. "Let me try," he muttered.

You: John eased back and stood, smiling reassuringly at Mary when she looked at him with frightened eyes. He turned to see Rene keeping an eye out the door, gun ready in case the next group of guards came early.

Stranger: Sherlock worked the knot, the ropes burning his fingers as he worked it. He scolded as he worked the first loop looser, the knot not quite falling apart yet.

You: “Come on,” John murmured, trying to get the knot to untangle faster. Finally, when it did, he darted forward and caught Mary before she tumbled off the chair and onto the floor. “Can you walk?” he asked her, supporting her weight.

Stranger: “W-with some help,” she muttered back, standing up with John’s help, leaning heavily on the arm wrapped around his shoulders.

You: “We need to hurry,” Rene urged them, holding the door open as John and Mary walked through it. He waited until Sherlock had followed then closed the door behind them. They only had about 10 minutes before the guards would be here.

Stranger: Sherlock, seeing how much John was struggling to help Mary through the building, quickly caught up to them and looped his arm around Mary’s waist, lifting her arm around his shoulders. “Thought you could use some help,” he smiled when John gave him a quizzical look.

You: “Thanks,” John said, able to move a little faster now. A clock was ticking in his head and he knew they didn’t have much time left. They made it out of the building, stepping around the bodies still on the ground, and out to the street.

Stranger: They hurried out to one of the main roads that ran close by and waved down a taxi, Sherlock helped John and Mary in before climbing in himself, Rene following behind them. Once John told the cabbie the address to the hotel, Sherlock was able to lean back and release a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

You: “Thank you,” Mary muttered, slouching in the seat and trying not to touch the bruises under her clothes. “Did Mycroft send you?”

Stranger: “Yes,” Sherlock nodded, turning to Mary and John. “I was told to come get the files from you, but I have retrieved them already from your flat.”

You: “Good,” Mary said, her eyes closing. She leaned over as she fell asleep, her head falling onto John’s shoulder. The rideback was silent in deference to the poor woman and John wondered where they were going next.

Stranger: Sherlock watched out the window as they rode back to the hotel. In a way, he was happy that everything was done and he could return to London; but if Mycroft hadn’t “revived” him yet, he knew he had to stay away from John. If not, then they had to lie like they had before, and Sherlock was just tired of lying.

You: The cab stopped outside the hotel and John gently shook Mary awake while Rene paid again. Sherlock helped John walk Mary into the hotel, bypassing the front desk and heading straight for the elevators. They didn’t really need anyone asking questions right now. “When we get into the room, I’d like to look you over,” John told Mary. “You don’t have to worry; I was a doctor.”

Stranger: Mary nodded slowly as they entered the room. “After, do you mind if I sleep for a while? I didn’t get much good rest tied to that chair and constantly abused,” she muttered, giving John a weak smile.

You:“Of course,” John replied, nodding. “You can take the bed.” He helped Mary to the bed and then waited until she fell asleep. It didn’t take long and John settled down on the couch to clean his gun.

Stranger: Sherlock settled down next to John with his own gun and placed it on the table. “Mind if I watch?” he asked, motioning to the gun in John’s lap. “It’s a trick I never learned.”

You: “You probably should if you’re going to be shooting my gun again,” John chuckled and slowed down his movements so that Sherlock could see everything he did.

Stranger: “Is that so?” Sherlock asked, giving John a devious glare. “You going to hold me to that?”

You: “If you shoot it, you clean it,” John replied, grinning. “Though Mrs. Hudson may take it out of your hide if you shoot her walls again.”

Stranger: “Or I can shoot it and leave it for you to clean,” Sherlock smirked. “Besides, not my gun to lose.”

You: John glared at Sherlock, his hands still steadily dismantling the gun. When he was done, he cleaned the pieces and explained as he went.

Stranger: Sherlock just smirked when John glared at him. He knew the man knew he was joking around, although it would be something he would do - he just wouldn’t have meant to do it.

You: Cleaning his gun didn’t take long and John was finished long before Mary woke up. Rene left to get food for all of them and the smell was what woke Mary up. “What is that?” she asked groggily, sitting up stiffly on the bed.

Stranger: “Lunch,” John said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’d like to look you over before we eat, if you don’t mind, since I didn’t before you fell asleep. I just want to make sure nothing is too bad, make sure you don’t have to go to the hospital.”

You: “Sure,” Mary said, getting to her feet. It was easier to walk but John still looped her arm over his shoulder to help her walk. “Can we go into the bathroom? I’d prefer some privacy for this.”

Stranger: “Of course,” John nodded, starting to turn towards the bathroom. “Can you explain what hurts most?”

You: “They spent a lot of time hitting me in the stomach and back,” Mary explained, a grimace crossing her face as they walked. They made it into the bathroom and the door closed, John settling Mary on the counter.

Stranger: “Alright, well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to check that area out first,” John muttered, stepping up next to Mary. “If you could remove your shirt.”

You: Mary froze for several seconds, her eyes haunted as she stared at John. She was eternally thankful when he just stood there with a patient expression on his face. Finally, she slipped her shirt off slowly, flinching as the bruises twinged.

Stranger: John offered her a reassuring smile as he stepped up to get a closer look as the bruises and small cuts that painted her skin. “They luckily don’t look too bad,” he muttered, running his fingers over one of them. “Did that hurt much?”

You: “Not too bad,” Mary said, hoping the bruises hid the blush that broke out over her skin. “You have gentle hands. Why did you say “was” earlier?” She hissed when John’s fingers skimmed over a particularly deep bruise, her body arching away from him.

Stranger: John let out a soft chuckle at the question, but quickly pulled his hand back at her hiss. “When do you mean?” he asked, sending her an apologetic smile.

You: “When you said you were a doctor,” Mary replied, smiling a little back. He was very cute and it had been a long time since anyone had been kind to her. She tried not to flinch as John resumed the examination and prodded at some of the cuts on her back.

Stranger: “I don’t practice it anymore,” he explained. “Ever since Sherlock faked his death, I didn’t have much desire to practice anything, except depression.”

You: “I’m sorry,” Mary said sincerely, placing one hand on his shoulder and smiling wider as he looked at her. “Maybe you need to get out a little more. You seem happy after this morning.”

Stranger: “Well, yes. Everything went smoothly and no one got hurt in the process. Now you can start to heal, why wouldn’t I seem happy?” John said, smiling up at her as well.

You: “You have a very reassuring smile,” Mary murmured, stroking down John’s arm. “I know I said it before but thank you for coming to rescue me.”

Stranger: “It was no problem,” John nodded, helping Mary down from the counter. “Is there anywhere else that’s hurt that I should look at?”

You: “My legs,” Mary told him, leaning more on him that she absolutely needed to. She let her hand slide up and down John’s arm again as she met his eyes.

Stranger: “Alright, if I may?” he asked, motioning to her jeans.

You: “Go ahead,” Mary said, undoing the button and zipper herself. She stepped from foot to foot as John helped her out of them and she eased back up onto the counter so that John could see better. And did her best to ignore the fluttering in her belly as John’s eyes slid over her.

Stranger: Mary had a particularly deep cut running down her thigh and John leaned in slightly closer to examine it. He ran a finger along the edge of it, noting how she flinched. “How bad is it?”

You: “It doesn’t hurt horribly, which worries me,” Mary said, a thread of fear in her voice. “And I haven’t been able to look at it since they cut me. I was afraid it was going to get infected.”

Stranger: “Let me get a better look at it,” John muttered, getting down on his knees in front of her. “Can you spread your legs a little? I need the light.”

You: Mary moved her legs to the side, trying not to touch John’s shoulders as he leaned in to look at the cut. She had a sudden urge to lean down and kiss him which she fought off for the moment. She could always choose to try later; John was an interesting man.

Stranger: John looked over the cut with trained eyes, carefully running his hands along it to make sure it wasn’t infected. “Let me put something on it to numb the pain and clean it,” he muttered, standing to get a washcloth. “I’ll clean it off first, though, just in case.”

You: Mary nodded, watching as John moved around the bathroom with sure movements. He brought those same movements to cleaning the cut, swiping over it with gentle hands. Once it was clean, John dabbed some ointment on it and Mary felt a cooling sensation cover the cut.

Stranger: “Better?” John asked, standing and moving next to Mary to clean his hands.

You: “It is, thank you,” Mary replied, getting carefully off the counter and standing next to John. She was rather surprised that the guards hadn’t done any more harm to her but thankful. When John turned, she didn’t give herself any time to think, just leaned up and kissed him.

Stranger: John was slightly taken back by the sudden kiss. For a moment, he stood there in complete shock, unsure of really what to do. The next, he heard the bathroom door slam open and a deep voice break through the hazy-shock.

You: “Looks like you’re through,” Sherlock said coldly, glaring at both John and Mary. “I’ve informed Mycroft that we rescued you and he would like to speak with you when you are ready.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned smartly on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Stranger: John sighed heavily and quickly followed after Sherlock, calling after him. “Wait, Sherlock,” he said, grabbing his wrist before the detective could get any farther. “It’s not what you think, Sherlock.”

You: “Really, John?” Sherlock drawled, his tone supercilious and his expression shuttered. “I think I just saw you and Mary kissing in the bathroom. Tell me, was I incorrect in that?”

Stranger: “She was kissing me, Sherlock. If you noticed, I wasn’t kissing back,” John said slowly, looking Sherlock dead in the eye. “I was only looking her over.”

You: “You also didn’t push her away,” Sherlock pointed out, shaking his wrist free of John’s hold. “Go take care of your patient, doctor. I have some things to do before I head back to London.” Turning away, Sherlock ignored John’s cries and continued to the elevator.

Stranger: “Sherlock, please!” John begged, following the man to the elevator. He didn’t get in, but instead watched as the door slid closed in his face. “Please...”

You: John shook his head and decided standing around in the hallway was not going to accomplish anything. He headed back to the room and made sure that Mary needed nothing else for her wounds. Then he sat down and started dismantling his gun yet again and putting it back together.

Stranger: Sherlock went down to the small bar that the hotel had attached to it’s restaurant. He sat down at the counter, looking up at the sports event that played on the television. Something about tennis... He turned his attention to the bartender, a younger man with messy brown hair and bright silver eyes. “What can I get you?” he asked, smiling at Sherlock.

You: “Tequila,” Sherlock replied shortly, deciding to drink something he normally wouldn’t. He resolutely ignored the television and watched the man pour the shot. When it was passed over to him, Sherlock gulped it down and passed the glass back for another.

Stranger: The bartender poured his at least five more rounds before Sherlock started to slow down a little. A man sat a little ways down from him, hunched over something that looked to be a smart phone. It wasn’t until the man spoke that Sherlock paid him much more attention. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, Sherlock.” He turned at his name and recognized the man at once as Jack.

You: “Hello, Jack,” Sherlock said, his words slurred. “What brings you to this hotel?”

Stranger: “My supervisor needed me here to watch over the drug dealings,” Jack said, moving to the stool that was on Sherlock’s right. “And yourself?”

You: “Rescuing a wayward operative and helping a man escape a gang,” Sherlock said, keeping it vague. He didn’t know how much Jack knew and didn’t want to ruin any plans Mycroft might have. At least right now.

Stranger: “And how is the collecting of the files going?” Jack asked, smiling a little. He was wondering if he’d ever see this man again, and now that he was there, right in front of him, perfectly drunk, he was going to flirt at least a little.

You: “It’s done,” Sherlock replied, knocking back another shot of tequila. He pushed the glass back towards the bartender but just stared at the liquid in the glass. “I can go home.” He grimaced at the bar, rolling his eyes.

Stranger: “You don’t seem too happy about that, love,” Jack muttered, frowning. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” He absently started to trace random patterns on the back of Sherlock’s hand, keeping his eyes trained on the detective.

You:  “Long story,” Sherlock demurred, playing with the glass instead of drinking the shot. “Let’s just say it’s something drink-worthy.” He picked up the glass and drank it slower than the previous shots but still emptied it and asked for another.

Stranger: "Is it anything I can personally fix?" Jack asked, turning so his back was against the counter, running his hand up and down Sherlock's arm. "Anything to... Ease the pain?"

You: Sherlock watched Jack's hand, the skin blurry through the alcohol haze he'd insistently put himself into. With his mind only partially at its normal high workings, he considered what Jack was offering. It would be an escape, another way to dull the pain he felt at seeing John kissing Mary. But, really, that's what made him come down here in the first place. Doing the same thing to John would be rather hypocritical of him. "No," Sherlock replied, regret in his voice. He had a feeling Jack would be conscientious and attentive at whatever he put his mind to. "But thank you."

Stranger: "Why not, love?" he asked, signaling for the next few shots to be on him. "We could go up to my room and have a bit of fun. Relax."

You: "That's why I'm down here to begin with," Sherlock admitted, his most recent shot loosening his tongue. "I saw him kissing the operative we rescued. I had to walk away. It... wasn't something I could stay and talk out."

Stranger: "Wait, saw who?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock. "Please, love, explain."

You: Sherlock sighed and drank the next shot the bartender poured. His lips twisted in a wry smile as he contemplated his next words. Seems he was doing a lot of things he normally wouldn't today. "Then I guess it should start with an apology," he admitted. "I saw the man I love kissing the operative we rescued. And when... we were in your flat, I was still dead to him. He knew me as Dean but I was worried that he wouldn't accept me back when he knew the truth."

Stranger: "So... You used me?" Jack growled, pulling his hand away. He gave Sherlock a glare, staring at the man and waited for him to answer his question.

You: Sherlock grimaced and shrugged apologetically. "Yes and no," he admitted, meeting Jack's eyes. "I was attracted to you. Still am, if I'm being honest. But a lot has happened in the month and a half or so since we've seen each other. Again, I'm sorry."

Stranger: "So we can't even finished what we started?" Jack asked slowly, signaling for a drink himself. "We did promise a rain check to each other."

You: "Yes, I know," Sherlock said, taking his shot glass and turning it upside down on the bar. He watched as a few golden brown drops ran down to pool on the wood. "But I don't think I should. That was before I told John that I was really alive."

Stranger: Jack gave Sherlock an icy glare before turning forward and sighing. "Should have known," he muttered, taking another shot and downing it quickly. "Always someone else."

You: Sherlock looked over at Jack and then quickly back down to his glass. This was turning out worse and worse, though he had truly forgotten about Jack. The only thing that could possibly make this worse... and there they are. John's footsteps as the determined soldier found him.

Stranger: "Sherlock," John said as he approached the detective, who was pointedly staring down at his shot glass and not at him. He took in the man next to Sherlock, an annoyed look on the man's face. He decided he'd deal with that later and turned back to Sherlock. "Will you just hear me out?!"

You: Sherlock sighed and shook his head, turning the glass around in circles on the bar. He could almost feel Jack bristling next to him and snuck a glance to see the man looking curiously at John. "This is John?" he asked, looking at Sherlock again.

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said, hoping that nothing bad would happen while both of these men were in the same room. He didn't want to deal with an angry Jack, or worse, a pissed off, jealous John. If John got even the slightest hint of something going on between himself and Jack... God...

You: "Sorry, do I know you?" John asked, momentarily diverted from Sherlock. His words were polite but there was a cold, steel edge underneath that Sherlock could hear clearly, even with all the alcohol fogging his mind.

Stranger: "No, sorry," Jack said smoothly. "Sherlock here was just talking about you. I guess you're the reason we can't simply pick up where we left off, is that right, Sherlock?"

You: "Left off?" John repeated, the veneer of politeness disappearing completely as cold overtook his voice. "Where did you gentlemen "leave off"?"

Stranger: "Please, John," Sherlock said, standing and wobbling, being forced to sit back down in his chair. "It was a stupid mistake... way before you knew I was alive. Please...."

You: John glared at Sherlock, several pieces coming together in his mind. And he didn't much like the puzzle they presented. "What are we doing here, Sherlock?" John asked, his voice tight with the urge not to break.

Stranger: "I came here to... get a drink. John, I really didn't know Jack would be here... Seeing you with Mary, kissing... honestly, I didn't like it," Sherlock said, staring up at John. Jack cut in, "What did you mean, Sherlock, when you said it was a stupid mistake?" His voice was cold and threatening, his eyes narrowing at the back of Sherlock's head and then at John.

You: "I meant that I shouldn't have allowed myself to kiss you," Sherlock said bluntly, flicking a glance at John. "If circumstances were different, maybe something might have happened. But I love John and I'm sorry for what happened."

Stranger: Jack got up without another word, half storming away to his room. John turned back to Sherlock after watching Jack make his retreat. "I love you, too, Sherlock," John muttered, sitting on the other side of Sherlock then where Jack had once been occupying. "Can we talk about this?"

You: “Running doesn’t help, does it?” Sherlock asked wryly, turning to John and focussing on his face. “I don’t do... emotions very well. What exactly happened with you and Mary?”

Stranger: “I know you don’t,” John said, his hand itching to reach out and tuck that stray hair out of Sherlock’s face and behind his ear. “I was checking her over; cuts on her stomach, thighs, and chest. Once I cleaned the bad ones and was finishing up, she leaned up and kissed me. I was shocked, unsure of what was really happening or what I should do. Then you came in and... well... yeah,” John finished lamely, bothering his lower lip.

You: Sherlock blinked at John slowly, trying to pick his next words carefully. “You didn’t want her?” he asked, the alcohol making him forget to keep the plaintive note out of his voice. “I was worried... even after everything you’d choose to have another girlfriend.”

Stranger: “No, Sherlock,” John soothed, finally acting on his urge and reaching up to brush the hair behind Sherlock’s ear, after, going down to cup Sherlock’s jaw. “I spent three years waiting and praying for you to come back, just so I could tell you how I feel. I’m not throwing that all away now.”

You: Tilting his head into John’s hand, Sherlock let his eyes close and just breathe for several moments. He had overreacted, adrenaline still running through his veins after the rescue. And seeing someone else kissing John had hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. “That’s... good,” he finally stammered, opening his eyes to meet John’s dark blue ones.

Stranger: “So do you forgive me?” John asked, running his thumb over one of Sherlock’s sharp cheekbones.

You: “Yes,” Sherlock replied, a small smile growing on his face. “You forgive me for running?” He rested one hand on John’s leg, not wanting to push too fast.

Stranger: “Of course, love,” John muttered, smiling. “I’d never be mad at you. I know I hurt you and I know you don’t know how to deal with that kind of emotion.”

You: Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips to John’s lightly, keeping it gentle and chaste. He tightened the hand on John’s knee, wanting to know he was still there.

Stranger: “Can we go back to the room, love?” John asked after a few minutes of gentle, light kissing. “I’d love to just curl up on the couch and watch a movie if we could? I want to just relax tonight.”

You: “I think that’s all I’ll be good for,” Sherlock said ruefully, struggling to his feet. He was proud when he only wavered a little bit. “I did have quite a bit of tequila. Perhaps we should get another room.”

Stranger: “Is that the only reason you want to get another room?” John asked, standing in front of Sherlock and smiling up at him knowingly. “Or are there other reasons?”

You: “For now, I would rather Mary slept in a different room,” Sherlock admitted, allowing a spark of jealousy into his eyes. “Then later, who knows?” He tried to wink flirtatiously but failed miserably as his balance chose to desert him at that exact moment.

Stranger: John caught Sherlock before he could fall, lifting one of his arms around his own shoulder, wrapping an arm around Sherlock’s waist. “Come on, love,” John said gently, trying not to laugh. “We’ll go up to the room and I’ll come back down here and get another room for us.”

You: Sherlock nodded and staggered with John back to the elevator after paying the bartender and giving him a hefty tip. The man certainly deserved it after seeing the drama unfold in front of him. Once in the elevator, he allowed his weight to rest against the wall and his head to settle on John’s shoulder.

Stranger: “How do you feel?” John asked, running his fingers through the locks on Sherlock’s head. “You’re going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow, love.”

You: “Kinda blurry right now,” Sherlock admitted, a sound very similar to a purr coming from his throat as John ran his fingers through his hair. “And I wasn’t thinking about the hangover when I was drinking.”

Stranger: “I’ll be here to help,” John muttered, chuckling lightly at the purr. “I’ll stay with you until your head stops pounding, even if all you want to do is sleep.”

You: The elevator dinged before Sherlock could reply and they walked slowly back to the room. “I’m really sorry, John,” Sherlock whispered before they opened the door. “For Jack. I’m sorry.”

Stranger: “And I’m sorry for Mary,” John whispered back. “But don’t worry about it. I still love you.”

You: “I love you, too,” Sherlock replied before his stomach rumbled and his hand flew to his mouth. They managed to get inside and Sherlock got to the bathroom before his much-abused stomach rejected a lot of the tequila he’d drunk.

Stranger: John bent down next to Sherlock, a hand on his lover’s back. He rubbed soothing circles into the skin, once in a while allowing his hand to dip below the t-shirt. “You’re alright,” John whispered as Sherlock got up some more of his stomach. “I’m here, love.”

You: Sherlock groaned and wiped his mouth before standing and rinsing with cool water. He spat a few times then drank about a cup of water. “I think I should lie down,” Sherlock admitted, resting his head against John’s chest and wrapping his arms around him.

Stranger: “Okay, come on, love,” John said, gently leading the other man to the couch, Mary asleep on the bed. He pressed himself against the back of the couch and pulled Sherlock down to lay next to him, wrapping his arms tightly around the man. He’d worry about the other room after.

You: Sherlock settled against John thankfully, his head on John’s shoulder. He sighed and felt sleep creeping up on him. “What about Rene?” he murmured, remembering that there were four here now.

Stranger: “I’m... sure he’s fine,” John smiled, hearing the sucking sounds from the bedroom. He could only chuckle, hearing the volume of the make-out session. “I think he found a place to lie down.”

You: Nodding, Sherlock closed his eyes and let sleep claim him. Whatever else happened, he had John right now and that’s all that mattered.

Stranger: “Night, love,” John whispered, kissing the top of Sherlock’s head and watching as Sherlock’s breathing evened out. John ran his hand gently through the curls one last time before allowing his own eyes to close, smiling that he got his lover back in his arms.

----------------------End Chapter 15------------------------