I wasn’’t going to write anything, but then there was this that popped in my head:

“I don’t mind,” said Sherlock, watching John touch his knee.

John was drunk, they both were. Fuck it. He slid his hand up as he moved between Sherlock’s legs, capturing him in an impossible kiss.

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” he said, looking up at him.

“It’s fine, you won’t remember this part.”

“Shut up,” John kissed him again, tangling his hands in his hair as he moved against him.