College AU (James Moriarty/Sherlock Holmes/John Watson MD) (warning: drug use, smut)

John knew he was not supposed to be here at all.
The music was too loud, alcohol was everywhere, and he was rather sure he had seen drugs literally flying around.

He was an assistant professor, he was better than this, and to be completely honest, he had never liked this kind of parties.

This party however was being held in Sherlock Holmes' flat.
Sherlock Holmes being the most promising student in his class, and the one who recently approached him to ask for a dissertation theme, which caused them to spend a lot of time together.
The one he also had a tiny winy crush on.

He knew it was inappropriate. He was very well fighting his attraction, especially knowing the student had no interest in anything that wasn't academic, but John had learned to know him in the last few months, and now he was worried.

He knew Sherlock Holmes would have never agreed to host a party on his own. He knew he hated people and would try to keep himself away.
So why was there a party here?
He asked himself as he walked in the door.
It had to be Jim Moriarty's doing, he was always up to taunt Sherlock.

He had to find Sherlock, he was a bit worried he'd find him hurt, locked somewhere away from this mess.

Sherlock Holmes was locked in his bedroom, trying to forget about the fact that there were a bunch of people he didn't really know playing loud music, drinking, taking drugs and getting off with each other right in the middle of his flat. He hated parties. He hated socialising. He hated people. He should never had agreed to this.

He'd been minding his own business in the chemistry lab at college when Jim Moriarty had walked in with a cheeky smile on his face. He'd started asking Sherlock why he never had any friends, and wouldn't he like to have some. Sherlock had admitted he wasn't very good at mixing with people and Jim had suggested having a party. Sherlock had instantly dismissed the idea but Jim had insisted it would all be fine - he would arrange everything and bring all the people. All Sherlock had to do was provide the location. Sherlock knew Jim was only using him because he'd already been in trouble for hosting several parties at his own flat but eventually he'd accepted the offer. Something about Jim Moriarty was fascinating to Sherlock. He was an intelligent guy, like him, and he thought perhaps someday they may even be friends. It would be nice to have at least one friend, he figured. And Sherlock had never actually been to a party before. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all?

Now...stuck in the middle of it all...he suddenly remembered why he'd never attended parties in the past. He sighed, and eyed up the bag of cocaine that was now sat upon his desk. It wasn't his. He'd found it in the toilet. In his toilet. He smiled, imagining the person who had lost it now frantically running round the party trying to find it. He'd already looked at the contents under his microscope and confirmed his suspicions that it contained all kinds of shit one wouldn't want to put in one's body. Never the less he noticed his own hands were now picking up the bag and emptying a little of the contents onto his desk. He'd never taken any drugs before. The opportunity had never presented itself. But now it had...he certainly wasn't going to pass it up. Sherlock knew everyone at college thought he was dull and unadventurous but he wasn't. He craved excitement and danger, anything to stop him being bored.

He already felt a thrill as his shaking hands played around with the powder, drawing it out into a thin line with the edge of his credit card. He knew what to do....he'd seen it in films. He carefully removed a note from his wallet, rolled it up into a tube and leant down over his desk. He paused a second. Nervous. Then, before he could change his mind, sniffed the whole thing up his left nostril. Sherlock threw his head back and waited to see what would happen. It hurt a little at first. A strange numb stinging sensation in his nostril and at the back of his throat. Then almost instantly he felt a difference. His heart began to beat faster. His body felt alerted, his sensations heightened, on edge. Wow. This was...brilliant. He quickly emptied more of the drug onto the table and began to prepare more.

John moved slowly through the mass of people and eventually found himself with a bottle of beer in his hand. He had no idea how it happened, but it was cool and nice in his hand, he decided to open it and have some. It was just a beer after all.

He had no idea where Sherlock was, but this definitely wasn't the place, people were snogging on the couch, and Sherlock didn't strike him as someone who would do that.
He could be completely wrong though.

He moved towards where he thought the bedrooms would be, and started knocking on each door, asking for Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" he called out a bit worriedly.

Four lines of coke later and Sherlock was pacing up and down his room like a madman. His mind felt focused and sharp, so he'd decided to recite all the elements of the Periodic Table out loud without looking and as fast as he could. It was amusing him greatly. He was distracted from his game by the sound of someone calling out his name. He went to the door, unlocked it and peered out into the corridor slightly. It was John Watson. John was a nice enough guy and quite smart. They'd shared some ideas a while back and they'd got on well enough although they weren't exactly friends. Sherlock didn't have friends. Now here was John, at the party and clearly looking for him.

"John," he hissed. "In here."

"Sherlock!" he exclaimed happily, finally! He was glad the young man was up and about, so they didn't actually take the flat by force. It was good, he thought.

"I was worried," he admitted, motioning at the mass of people. "Didn't seem something you would partake in willingly..."

He walked towards him and frowned when he saw the state the young man was in.
He looked frenzied, and his pupils were clearly dilated.
"What have you been doing in there?" he asked, disapprovingly, he couldn't believe Sherlock was that kind of kid.

"It was all Jim's idea," Sherlock groaned as he beckoned John to come into his room. "He told me it was a good way to make friends. Said it was about time I stopped being a loner."

He closed the door and locked it shut behind them, breathing a sigh of relief that no one else at the party had noticed their secret hide out. "Not sure I'd want to be friends with any of that lot." Sherlock walked over to his desk, took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. John had clearly noticed he was wired so there was no point denying it. He showed him the back with a devilish grin.

"Found some coke in the toilets."

Jim. Of course it was him. Evil bastard.
John tried not to be jealous as well, Jim seemed to have quite the power over Sherlock. It was none of his business though.

"You are not going to make many friends if you don't join the party," he pointed out, looking a bit put off when Sherlock locked the door.

This was not a good predicament for him.
Locked in a room with a drugged up student.
He took in a sip of his beer and sighed.

"It doesn't surprise me. Is there anyone you would want to be friends with?" he asked, even though he had a feeling Jim was in the short list.

He glared at the packet of coke: "You? A junkie?" he growled, with a glare.
He should probably leave, he already found out things he had not wished to know.

Sherlock sighed sadly. "I always thought Jim and I could be friends but he just likes to make fun of me all the time. Can I have some of your beer?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer he grabbed the beer out of John's hand and took a swig before handing it back.

He began to pace the room again, unable to keep still for very long. "I'm not a junkie!" he exclaimed, upset that John could think so low of him. "I only tried it for the first time tonight. It's very good though. You want some?" He was eager to share this new experience with John. Perhaps if Jim didn't want to be friends with him then John might?

"Jim is a tosser," he said, and blinked a bit when the student stole his beer. Well, wasn't that just perfect? "But the only reason he makes fun of you is because he is jealous. You are smarter than him," he muttered, and sat on the bed.

"How much did you have?" he asked, and looked at the bag suspiciously. "No thank you, I don't like drugs, my sister scarred me for life with her addictions..." He stole the beer back and took a sip. "Why do you feel the need for friends so suddenly? I didn't think you cared..."

Sherlock's ego swelled slightly when John said he thought he was smarter than Jim. He'd always thought so too....he always thought he was a little bit smarter than everyone in fact.

"Um, I had four lines so far. I'm not sure how much is a normal amount though." He stopped pacing and perched on his desk in front of John, taking a drag on his cigarette. "I don't want friends. And I don't care what people think. Friends are...confusing. How many do you have?"

"Four lines? That's a bit too much for a first time... you should be more careful," he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

The question took him by surprise, he had never really thought about that. It was just that he never cared that much.
He was used to being alone now.
"I used to have a few, before... the war..." he said and then shook his head.
"I don't think I have any now," he admitted, "The other assistant professors are too dull for me..."

He looked at him, perched on the desk: "I was hoping you could be one, really... but if you are not interested there is nothing I can do," he said with a shrug.


(So, I am doing John an ex-army anyway, but instead of coming back to being a doctor, he came back to be a professor, but he is still relatively young and inexperienced, so assistant professor))

"Really?" Too much for a first time? No wonder he was feeling so anxious.

Sherlock smiled, remembering the way he'd worked out John was an ex-army man the first time they'd met. He sat down next to him on the bed and grabbed his beer off him again.

"Think we could get some more of these? I don't normally drink much but...I think the cocaine's making me thirsty."

So John wanted to be his friend? Interesting. Sherlock was secretly pleased, although tried to act casual like he wasn't really bothered either way. "I don't mind 'hanging out' as they call it," he muttered. "Providing you go and get more beers."

"I am not sure mixing cocaine and drinks is the way to go, Sherlock," he said and took the beer again. "Is this your first times night?" he teased, downing the beer.

"You don't mind 'hanging out', you say? Have you ever done it before?" he said, sensing the other's feigned indifference. Maybe he wasn't as clever as Sherlock, but he knew a lot about people.
"No no, I am not going to impose my friendship of you, I'll leave you alone if you want to be so," he taunted him, standing up and moving towards the door.

"I am not your slave, Sherlock. If I do something for you, you have to do something for me," he said with a shrug.

The thought of John leaving panicked Sherlock somewhat. "No, don't go!" he exclaimed and went to put his hand on John's shoulder. Then he realised it probably looked a bit desperate. He didn't want John to get the wrong idea. He removed the hand and perched on the desk again, stubbing out his cigarette on the surface of his desk before dropping it onto the floor like a rebel. He felt like a bit of an idiot doing it though. Trying to be cool wasn't something Sherlock did particularly well. Especially when there was a perfectly decent ashtray sitting right next to him. He blushed a little.

"Fine. If you get the beers, I'll do something for you. Seems fair enough."

John stopped when he felt the other's hand on his shoulder. He looked at Sherlock a bit worriedly, wondering what it was really best to do.
"Fine. Yes. I will stay. I would just end up worrying about you if I left now anyway," he admitted and threw the empty bottle in his rubbish.

"You know, you are going to have to pick that up, this is your flat," he pointed out amused, the young man looked at lot like a boy at the moment.

"I'll be back in a sec, then," he said and disappeared to get the beers.


((Sherlock trying to look cool got me laughing like mad XDD is he trying to flirt? XDD I love him))

(( Lol, think he's just a bit confused as per ususal ))

Once John had gone Sherlock bent down to pick up the cigarette butt and put it in the ashtray. What an idiot. No wonder I don't have friends.

His eyes fell on the bag of cocaine. Perhaps another line would help with his confidence? Better do it quick before John comes back. He hurriedly emptied some out onto the desk and began to prepare it. He couldn't understand why talking to John made him nervous. He just knew he wanted to impress him, wanted John to like him.

John met a few of his students on the way to the kitchen, and to come back with a pack of beers turned out to take more than expected.
By the time he was knocking on Sherlock's door again, he was annoyed and flushed.
Sometimes he really hated his students.
They were such idiots.

At least he managed to get the beers, and also a bottle of vodka. There was something that told him it was not a good idea to drink with Sherlock, but at the moment he really wanted to spend more time with him, and he knew it was the only way.



((Sherlock Holmes' attempts at flirting would surely be priceless XDD and he's cute, I always enjoy your Sherlock <3))

John had taken ages downstairs and Sherlock was starting to worry that he might not be coming back. Maybe he'd acted too weird? Spoke too much? Taken too many drugs? Or maybe he was just being paranoid because he'd taken too many drugs? Whatever it was he'd begun to pace again, and he'd chain smoked three cigarettes by the time his new friend returned.

Sherlock heard the gentle knock at the door. He rushed over and unlocked it, ushering John in and keeping his eye on the other party go-ers milling around in the corridor. He didn't want any of them gate crashing their private party.

"Well...looks like you're trying to get me drunk." he grinned, staring at all the booze John had brought up with him.

John looked at him as he came inside, he had a feeling something was different, but he decided not to comment.
"I brought enough to get the both of us drunk, but we really don't have to... especially if you don't want to," he said, sitting back on the bed and noticing the cigarette butt was not on the floor anymore.

Sherlock failed quite a bit as a rebel, but he was quite adorable at trying.

"So, what are we celebrating?" he asked, opening a bottle of beer for Sherlock and passing it over. He then proceeded to open himself one.

Sherlock perched on the edge of the desk but with his legs resting on the edge of the bed next to where John was sat. "Getting drunk might be interesting," he shrugged casually. "It's been a long time since I was drunk actually." He thought back to the time he threw up on his 16th birthday and swore he'd never get drunk again. He'd hated the feeling of being out of control.

He took the beer from John's out stretched hand and had a swig. "Celebrating? Nothing in particular. Just don't want to mix with that unintelligent lot down there. D'you want a cigarette?" He offered the pack to John.

"I am not sure if you can say getting drunk is interesting, but it's a good way to spend the evening," he said, and kicked his shoes off, the next second he was sliding back on the bed until his back was on the wall.

"Is this where you sleep?" he asked, finally taking a good look at the room.

He looked at the packet of cigarettes doubtfully: "Mm... ask me again in a few beers," he suggested with a wink.

"Yep, that's where I sleep," Sherlock replied. "Not that I do much sleeping. Don't have time for sleep. Too busy with my experiments." He indicated his cluttered desk, strewn with test tubes, chemicals, petris dishes and all kinds.

He frowned slightly, suddenly aware his room was a bit of a tip. "Actually, sorry about the mess." Sherlock jumped down and picked a couple of texts books up off the floor. He plonked the books down on the desk then moved around towards the bed.

"Shove up a bit then. There's room for two." He said and squeezed himself on next to John.

"Sleep is good for it gives the brain a chance to repair lost neural connections, to process newly-learned information and organise and archive memories, you shouldn't look down on it," he said simply, taking a sip of his beer as he looked at Sherlock tidy up.

"Don't do that on my account. I don't mind messy... it's not my room anyway," he said with a grin, and then slid a bit to the side to make space for him.

"So, what are you going to do for me? I did bring the beers..." his tone coming out more suggestive than he wanted it to.

Sherlock couldn't help grinning at John's description of sleep. Always the medical man, he thought wryly. He sat down on the bed next to him and swigged back more beer.

"Anything," he shrugged. "Anything you like. What d'you want me to do?" He instantly regretted saying 'anything'. What if John asked him to do something really stupid? Or something he didn't want to do? Too late now anyway.

John thought about it, the way Sherlock said 'anything' made him think of very improper things. He wasn't nearly as drunk to suggest anything like that, and he really didn't want to sound like a creep.

He drank more of his beer and looked at him.

"I am not sure..." he said, staring right at Sherlock. "You are good at deducing things... you could try to tell me all you know about me... everything you haven't told me already..." He laughed a bit. "Or maybe you could tell me some dirt about my boss, could come in handy..."