John was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. He had no idea what to do, what to think of the situation he just woke up in. Last night was a blur, plus he didn't know whether to trust his very limited memory of the night prior. Something in him hoped Sherlock had a better recollection of whatever happened, but that would also mean he would face whatever truth he'd be told. As he laid the aspirin he took from the kitchen on the way to his bedroom on his tongue he tried to get his thoughts straight.

He knew it was new years day and that they had had guests over for the new year. Everyone, especially John had been drinking a lot, hence the headache and the foggy memory. The last clear thing in his mind was that right after everyone left he asked Sherlock if he wanted another drink. After that the memories are all over the place and hard to string together. The next thing he is certain of is that he woke up on the couch with Sherlocks arm over his very naked chest. As soon as John realized that that was out of the ordinary he wiggled himself out of Sherlocks grip, trying not to wake him up, grabbed his clothes and ran to his room. He was immensely relieved both his and Sherlocks trousers were still on, revealing they didn't go that far.

He wanted to know desperately what happened, did they just make out? Did they end up in that position in any other way and if so, how? Somehow the thing he wanted to know most was how Sherlock lips felt. One thing he did know though, was that something had changed and somehow they would have to acknowledge that.

That part made it especially frustrating that Sherlock absolutely refused to talk about what happened. John had tried to start about the topic several times but he had always been cut off quickly. Towards the end of the morning sherlock even disappeared for no apparent reason. Even though he did that a lot, John couldn't help but feel that this time it linked directly to the topic the detective was so desperately avoiding. Maybe Sherlock didn't want to talk about it because he feels like he made a mistake? Afterall Sherlock had never been shy from mentioning he was unattached and didn't exactly feel things that way. Those thoughts shouldn't have felt like a punch in the gut for John. He wasn't attracted to men, he wasn't attracted to Sherlock, he was just drunk and Sherlock was the nearest (and the only) person available for a good snog. Even though he kept telling himself that, it still felt painful to realize Sherlock was uninterested. However selfish it was, it bruised his ego a little bit.

He had to talk to Sherlock, make sure that he knew the lack of feelings was mutual. As soon as John heard Sherlocks steps on the stairs leading up to their flat he went to stand in the hallway. Sherlock came in, closed the door behind him and tried to walk to the living room but got stopped by John.

"Sherlock, we need to talk." John stood very close to Sherlock, pressing him against the door.

"John, I-"

"Please, at least tell me what happened." Sherlock tried to push John aside so he could avoid the conversation but John wasn't moving, determined to find out what they did the night before.

"I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry, you- I- it just kind of happened and you seemed to enjoy it too and-" Sherlock fell silent. It took John a second to process that what was just said means that they kissed, and that Sherlock was the one who initiated it. He looked at the man trapped between him and the door, squirming uncomfortably and to top it all, very red. He took a step back and felt himself get angry.

"So why the hell were you pretending everything was normal when you knew damn well it wasn't? Have you taken a single second to consider what this whole day was like for me? First I wake up to my best friend spooning me on our living room couch with our clothes spread all over, after which that same person ignores me the entire fucking day, and yes of course I could make a few guesses, but I am not you. If you had just said something it would all be fine." He took a steadying breath. "Why didn't you talk to me?" Sherlock looked almost, ashamed?

"You can surely deduce that." John looked a Sherlock, who was looking down at the floor, desperately avoiding eye contact. Definitely shame. John just couldn't figure out why. They were both drunk, drunk people make mistakes, no need to be so ashamed. Sherlock is never ashamed, he didn't care about what anyone thought of him enough to ever be ashamed. Oh.

"You care too much about my response for it to just have been a drunken mistake." Sherlock didn't move. "Sherlock, do you have feelings for me?" Still no movement. John gently placed his fingers under his friends chin, forcing him to make eye contact. As soon as their eyes met a whole universe seemed to open for John, suddenly he knew why drunk him went so far, it wasn't just the nearest available person, it was someone he had loved for actual years and years who kissed him, displayed interest in him. He looked down at Sherlocks lips as he was leaning in. Just before their lips touched he looked back up again, waiting for some sign that he wasn't crossing any boundaries. Sherlock nodded and he didn't hesitate to press their lips together. Trying to save every detail about this kiss to make up for forgetting the last.

A/N
I tried to experiment with a different writing style and I'm not sure if I like it but here you go iguess