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

Sherlock grinned. "He's having an affair with the lab assistant. I'm sure you could always use that for something in the future. Bit of blackmail? You...." He looked John up and down, then studied his face for a few seconds. "You had a cheese baguette for your lunch. With mayonnaise." He laughed at the expression on John's face, then leaned forward and grabbed a fresh beer, placing his empty one down on the floor.

"What can you deduce about me?"

John almost choked on his beer: "He is? You can't be serious!" he commented, that was rather big, especially since the professor had been happily married for long.

John felt a bit restless under the other's gaze. He really didn't want to be looked at like that, it did strange things to him.
"Fantastic, as usual," he commented, when Sherlock deduced correctly about his lunch.

"Me? Deducing?" he asked with a surprised expression, he quickly finished his beer, before he spoke again. "Mine are just impressions... but I'll humor you..."
He looked at him seriously. "You are... very clever... more than anyone else... it probably makes you feel lonely, but you prefer to be lonely than stupid like everyone else..." he frowned a bit, wondering if he was saying too much. "You probably have no idea how handsome you are, girls look at you, but you don't notice..."
He opened a new bottle, and took a first gulp. "People say you are a sociopath, you aren't. They just don't bother to look past your cold manners, but that's just because people is stupid."

Sherlock grinned. He loved to see people's reactions when he made correct deductions, and John's reactions in particular always made him smile. He actually seemed genuinely impressed. Sherlock took another cigarette out and lit up, waiting to hear John's deductions about him.

His smile slowly faded and he shifted in his seat slightly when he realised John was getting everything right. It made him a little uncomfortable to know John could see right through him so easily. How come no one else could? He snorted at the handsome part - at least he knew that bit wasn't true. Girls? Look at him? Yeah right. But he had to admit, John had done a very good job.

"I meant for you to deduce things about my appearance, my clothes...not my personality and my emotions," he said quietly. "But otherwise spot on." He took a drag on his cigarette and looked at the floor. He'd spoke so quietly he thought John might not have heard him, and kind of hoped he hadn't.

John had to lean quite close to the other to actually hear the words, but he was glad to hear Sherlock admitted to what he said about him. He somehow knew it was all true, but not a lot of people would admit to being lonely.

"You can do the visual part, I am not clever enough for that," he said with a grin. "All I know about you is what I noticed in the way you behave... we're similar, that's why I can tell..." he said, and patted the other's leg, he was trying to be reassuring.

"Except I am rather ordinary in appearance, while you have... well.. your cheekbones," he said, motioning to his face and willing himself not to stare.

Sherlock felt like he'd given too much away about himself, but for some reason he trusted John, and felt relaxed around him. He'd never really been close to anyone before, mentally or physically, but he found the closeness of their positions on the bed and even John's hand on his leg gently reassuring.

"What's so special about my cheekbones?" he laughed, finding the idea absurd. "And anyway you've got your own attributes. I'm sure you're never short of girlfriends." Sherlock glanced his eyes up and down on John's body. He didn't generally look at people in that way, but even he could tell that John had an attractive body - muscular and fit from his military training, and his eyes were...Sherlock realised he was staring into John's eyes. He coughed and looked away, embarrassed.

John laughed a bit: "Well, you know... they are... beautiful," he said honestly, and felt himself swallow when Sherlock looked at him.
He looked away at the same time, staring down at his beer seemed like a good idea at the moment.

"I wouldn't say I'm popular between the girls, and it's not that easy to find someone when you are always on campus," he muttered, shaking his head. "But I believe if you look hard enough you are probably going to be able to tell me all about my failed relationships, aren't you?" he asked, he was trying to tease, but there was a possibility that Sherlock would actually be able to do that. "Things were much easier when I was a student..."

Sherlock grinned and looked John over once again.

"Your last girlfriend kept a persian cat and she split up with you three...no....four days ago. Before that - " He suddenly stopped, aware of what appeared to be a sad look in his friend's eyes. He fell silent and took a sip of his beer. "I'm just being stupid," he muttered. "Probably not even right anyway." Sherlock fell silent, wondering what had stopped him. Why did he care about John's feelings? He'd never cared in the past.

"Do you want another beer?" he asked, trying to change the subject and hoping John wasn't upset.

John had been barely aware of the fact he was showing emotions, but Sherlock's eyes were keen, and he had to admit his inability to keep a relationship stable was something that bothered him lately.

"No, it's true. All true. She broke up with me because she thought I was not invested in the relationship. Quite right as well. I fail to be able to meet a person that keeps me interested for long enough..." he said and nodded to the beer offering. "Yes, please."

"What about you? Anyone you like on campus?" he asked curiously, even though he was not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Sherlock was secretly delighted that he'd deduced correctly but tried to hide his smiles, vaguely aware it might not be appropriate. He passed John a beer then laughed aloud at the thought of him being interested in anyone.

"Me? You're joking right? No it's erm..." he suddenly clammed up, nervous of exposing his feelings in this manner. "I'm not uhhh...." He quickly stood up from the bed and headed back over to the desk. His hands were shaking as he picked up the bag of cocaine. The last lot must be wearing off, he thought to himself. He needed more. It gave him confidence, made it easier to speak to John. He wanted to speak to John. He wanted it so badly.

John frowned when Sherlock fled from the bed, "It's okay, you don't have to tell me anything, it was just a question," he tried to protest, his expression darkening as he saw the student take the bag of cocaine.

"Sherlock," he muttered, and he sounded a bit pleading. "Don't do that..." he bit on his lower lip, he knew it was none of his business, but he couldn't help but worry. "You know that's deadly for your synapses... and I like you even when you aren't drugged up!"

Sherlock was just about to hoover up a rather large line of cocaine when John's words stopped him in his tracks. Did he just say he liked me? He paused and stood up from his stooped position over the desk, staring over at John with a look of surprise on his face.

"Really?" he asked quietly. "You...like me?"

John felt rather uncomfortable at the idea Sherlock was going to sniff cocaine in front of him, he was rather sure he could get sacked for this.
He moved a bit on the bed, wondering if he should tackle him to stop him.

The young man stopped on his own though, looking at him surprised.
"Of course I like you!" he answered, and shrugged a bit. "I wouldn't be here otherwise now, would I?" he grinned a bit.
"Can't you deduce it?" he teased, wishing to keep his attention.

Sherlock smiled at John, and put down the note he was about to use to sniff the cocaine. Instead he sat on the end of the bed and rested his hands on John's feet. There was something about the other man he found fascinating, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"I like you too." he shrugged. That was all he could think of to say.

John felt his throat go dry when Sherlock touched his feet, he hadn't really thought his words to be taken literally, but were they?
Sherlock had just said he liked him too, did it mean what he thought it meant?

He frowned at himself, he hardly made any sense.

"Come back here then, my side is going cold," he said, and again he had to wonder what was going to happen. He was scared he was going to do something embarrassing and Sherlock would run away screaming.
God, why did the English language have to have such ambiguous words?
I like you could mean so many things.

Sherlock smiled, stood up and headed back to the top of the bed, sliding on and sitting close to John. It was quite cosy being so close together, he thought. He rested his head on John's shoulder. He felt safe and happy around this guy...it was a pleasant feeling.

"Cheers." he said, and clinked his beer against John's. He was feeling a little light headed. It must be the booze getting to him, he thought idly.

John's heart skipped a beat when Sherlock rested his head on his shoulder, it was an adorable gesture and for a moment he wondered if he should wrap his arm around the student's body.
He blushed at the idea, realizing he was being an idiot.

"Cheers," he said, and drank almost half of his beer, at the moment he felt like he needed it.

"You have a very pretty smile," he said then, poking at his bottle, he was drunk, that was the only explanation for flirting so viciously.

Sherlock drained back the last of his beer too and threw the empty one down on the bed, giggling at John's compliment. No one had ever told him anything like that before. He couldn't decide whether to take it seriously or not. He lifted his head of John's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. He certainly looked like he meant it.

Sherlock smiled, genuinely pleased and touched. "Thanks," he said quietly. "You have a very pretty..." he searched for a compliment to offer back but couldn't really think of one. "...um...everything."

John blinked at Sherlock's words, well if the cleverest person he knew couldn't find a compliment for him, what did that say about his looks?
He tried not to feel too awful about it and nodded. "Thanks," he said quickly and looked at the bottle.

He was just glad Sherlock was smiling at him, he liked that, it made him feel special.
"So, what should we do?" he tried to change the subject.


((Truth or dare? Or some other silly game? I imagine John is trying to be mature, so he wouldn't suggest it, but Sherlock could be like 'I've always wanted to try this' or maybe going into his mental wikipedia and searching under games with flirting, he decided to come up with it XD))

Sherlock noticed John shift slightly in his seat and wondered if he was making him uncomfortable. He sat up on the bed and crossed his legs, playing absent mindedly with one of the empty bottles of beer.

"What should we do?" he repeated. "Well...let me think of something..."

He stared at John a moment, wondering what was going on inside his head. He was so good at reading people by their clothes and physical attributes but it was a much greater challenge reading someone's mind and emotions. What did people do at parties? Sherlock hardly ever went to parties, he'd always tried his best to avoid them so he wasn't exactly sure...He sometimes had the TV on whilst he was doing his experiments, and he'd seen a horror movie once about drunk teenagers at a party and they're playing some kind of game with each other and then suddenly they start getting picked off one by one by some psychopathic killer. Sherlock found the stupidity of the characters highly amusing and enjoyed the creative ways in which each of the victims was picked off. Now what was the name of the game they played again....?

"Oh yeah..." he said out loud, suddenly remembering. "Erm....what about...truth or dare?" He smiled slightly, not knowing whether John would be familiar with the game, or whether it was something he'd be interested in. Did normal people play it? Or was it just characters in films? Again, Sherlock wasn't quite sure.

(he's so cute~)

John almost choked on his beer when Sherlock mentioned truth or dare. He didn't think he had played it in years. He remembered what it used to lead to, but he doubted Sherlock was suggesting it for that reason.

"You sure?" he asked, and reached under the bed to find the bottle of vodka he had retrieved earlier. He reckoned it was a good way to know more about Sherlock anyway.

"I am going to need stronger stuff for that..." he said, placing the bottle in between them. "If someone doesn't want to answer the question or do the dare, he has to drink a shot of this..."

Sherlock was initially surprised by John's reaction, and started worrying that perhaps it was the wrong thing to suggest. He soon put those thoughts aside when his new friend brought out the bottle of vodka - he was obviously up for the game. Suddenly things seemed a little exciting. Sherlock leapt up off the bed and rubbed his hands together.

"Great. This is going to be fun, right? So....I think I know how to play this." He took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. "You start though....I mean, just in case I get it wrong."

John looked at him suspiciously, was he really excited about playing Truth or Dare? Well, it was probably another one of those firsts Sherlock had been trying to get rid of today.

"Very well. Sherlock Holmes. Truth or Dare?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

Sherlock considered it carefully, weighing up the different options and trying to second guess what John might ask him to do or say. Hmm, he was impossible to read, he decided finally. But Sherlock loved adventure, he loved excitement...in the end the choice was obvious.

"Dare."

John pursed his lips in thought.
Something easy to start with, but he really wanted to be entertained as well.

"I want you to open the window and shout 'I have a big cock' to whoever is passing on the street," he suggested with a grin, challenging Sherlock to do it with a clear gaze.

Sherlock blushed red. Dear God, why did he ever suggest this game? Surely he can't be serious?

"Surely you can't be serious?" he asked but John's grim expression told him he was. Sherlock glanced at the line of cocaine on the desk, the one he'd prepared earlier. He knew John didn't approve but he needed it so badly. Before John could say anything he grabbed the rolled up note and snorted it all up. He instantly felt better. Focused, clear headed, alert, confident. He could do this, he told himself. He could do this.

He nervously approached the window and opened it. He leaned out to see who was below. There were a group of party goers hanging around outside, drinking and chatting. Sherlock cleared his throat and glanced back at John, before leaping back to the window, leaning out and shouting at the top of his voice, "I have a big cock!"

He fell back into the room and collapsed into hysterics on the bed, not caring that he'd practically fallen on top of John. He couldn't believe he'd actually done it. Now he couldn't stop laughing. "That was hilarious!"