Chapter Text
It had started out just like every other Thursday pub night. Drinks with the boys, Stamford and his old Army mates. The first thing Stamford did was ask how life with Sherlock had been going, John had grimaced as usual. Stamford had grinned stupidly, knowing John was loving it. They all stood around the bar together downing pints talking about Rugby. John made pleasant conversation with the ‘odd ball’ of the group Jeff. He felt sorry for him, no-one seemed to include him in their conversations. Jeff was a nice enough chap, but always seemed to turn the conversation around to himself. Must have been lonely, John thought, and he knew that feeling himself all too well.
All those pints he’d drunk weren’t laying well on his bladder, so he excused himself to go to the loo. Jeff shouted after him.
“I’ll get another pint in for you while you get rid of the last one.” John smiled Jeff wasn’t so bad. John really was going to be drunk when he got home if he carried drinking pints quite so fast though. The next one would be his last he thought to himself. He really didn’t want a hangover and Sherlock to deal with in the morning. John looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. God he looked tired, home after this pint, then bed.
Twenty minutes later John felt like he was swaying, the world kept going in and out of focus. He struggled to listen to conversations, it was if he was outside his own body. Jeff kept holding his arm, and he kept batting his hand away. Maybe Jeff had noticed he was feeling a little more drunk than usual. Maybe that last pint hadn’t been a good idea after all.
“I’m going to make a move now.” John said to the air around him and moved toward the door. Jeff took his elbow.
“I’ll give you a hand mate.” The boys waved them off as Jeff steered John out the door. After a few minutes John realised they were going in the wrong direction. They turned down a dark dirty side alley. Jeff pushed him hard against the wall pressing his crotch into Johns.
“Get off me!” John yelled trying to co-ordinate his arms to push the bastard who was trying to stick his tongue down his throat away.
“I know you want me.” Jeff moaned his erection pushing into the top of John’s thigh. John wanted to be sick. He couldn’t seem to gather enough strength to do anything. Jeff undid John’s flies and slid his hand in almost touching the flesh. “I know I can make you hard, like your Sherlock does.” John heard a shout then.
“Oi, what do you think you’re doing!” Stamford must have followed them John thought as he managed to push Jeff’s hand away. Now Jeff was caught. Date rape drugs may cause memory loss for the victim but if someone else saw…. Then the world’s only consulting detective found out… Jeff was a rapist not a killer so he ran for his life. Stamford managed to catch John before he hit the floor.
Stamford was just about able to hold John in one hand and open the door to 221 Baker Street with the other.
“Sherlock!” He shouted, there didn’t seem to be any movement in the flat upstairs. “Sherlock!” He screamed. “John’s ill.” Suddenly there was a thump and Sherlock was rushing down the stairs barefoot in his pyjamas. Sherlock grabbed John.
“John?” He looked at Stamford. “Who drugged him?” Sherlock looked down at John’s trousers to discover they were undone. He calmly did the zip back up. “Who touched him?” He said angrily. Stamford eyed Sherlock warily, he knew the danger signs.
“Jeffery Alderman. Nothing happened Sherlock I stopped it before….” Sherlock growled.
“I think you should go, I’m quite capable of taking care of John.” Stamford looked Sherlock in the eye.
“You need to make sure he doesn’t get dehydrated and get a urine sample in the morning. He’s going to have a huge hang over tomorrow so don’t play the violin.” Sherlock got John into a fireman’s lift and climbed up the stairs. Stamford called up after him. “I’ll be over tomorrow to check on him.”
Sherlock laid John on the sofa, probably the best place for him. He could keep an eye on him if he went to sleep. John was smiling at him manically.
“John?” He asked. John tried to sit up. Sherlock put his arms around John and turned him around so his feet were on the floor. There was something wet on his neck. He went to brush it away and his hand made contact with John’s head. “Oh..” John was kissing his neck.
“I want to do things to you Sherlock.” John moaned, Sherlock stood back looking like a deer in headlights.
“I think you ought to know John you have been drugged, and you don’t really mean what you’re saying.” John swayed slightly.
“Oh I do Sherlock. I’ve wanted to say it to you for so long. I’d do anything for you. I think I love you.” John reached out and tugged on the cord of Sherlock’s Pyjama bottoms pulling him closer. John stood up, put his hand in Sherlock’s hair and pulled him down. Their lips met. Sherlock responded for a second then pulled away.
“No John. I can’t, you’re not yourself, and you won’t remember this tomorrow.” A tear appeared at the corner of his eye. John flopped back onto the sofa upset.
“You don’t love me do you.” John said quietly. Sherlock wiped the tear away.
“John, I do love you. I do want you to do those things to me.” John reached out looking up at Sherlock eyes pleading.
“Let me then. If I don’t remember you will.” Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair. John did have a logical argument there. If Sherlock let John suck him, and fuck him he wouldn’t be taking advantage. If John didn’t remember he could pretend it had never happened. Sherlock closed his eyes thinking.