#high functioning tipsy

Sherlock's first experience of drunkenness in front of John would be nothing short of the social experiment of the year.

It starts out innocently enough, Sherlock dismissing alcohol as a "pointless social lubricant". Insisting it won't affect him because his "metabolism is far too advanced." A few glasses of wine later, he's half-draped over the armchair, lecturing John on the "intellectual merits of bees."

Sherlock: John, do you ever stop and think about bees? The perfect little systems they have. Communal, focused, productive. Unlike humans. Unlike me... mostly you, though.

At some point, John realizes Sherlock’s actually slurring, but Sherlock refuses to admit it.

Sherlock: I’m not drunk, John. I’m..re-evaluating my diction. You should try it, ‘diction,’ fascinating word... dic-tion.

He stumbles on his own feet mid-sentence.

Sherlock attempts to analyze John’s facial expressions

Sherlock: You’re frowning, and that means you’re... either tired, or hungry, or... worried I’m about to fall again. Unnecessary concern, John. My balance is fine.

Seconds later, Sherlock nearly knocks over a lamp.

John’s trying to get him to stop talking about everything and nothing at once, but Sherlock is now recounting every minor injustice from their cases in the past year. Including Lestrade "insulting his coat" and how Molly once “offered him average coffee.”

Mid-rant, Sherlock suddenly pauses, swaying slightly, and looks at John.

Sherlock: You know, John... I used to think I could do this whole detective thing on my own. But that was before you. I mean, I was great before you. But now... I’m...exce..exceptional.”

Johns trying not to choke on his tea with that one

Eventually, Sherlock begins confessing that John has a very "soothing aura."

Sherlock: John, you’re like... a very calm... tree. Tall, steady, good to lean on.

John, smirking: A tree, Sherlock?

Sherlock, dead serious: Yes. Quite.

Round 1 am, Sherlock begins a grand speech about the failures of the British government, which somehow ends in a tearful realization that he really likes John’s jumpers.

Sherlock: John, you don’t understand, I envy your knitwear. It’s so... reliable. Like you.

By the end of the night, John gets Sherlock into bed, but not before Sherlock decides to muse about how “annoyingly decent” John is.

Sherlock: You’re... you’re a very difficult man to ignore, John Watson. Always here, always... there. What’s it like, to be so... solid?

John just sighs, pats Sherlock on the head, and says, Go to sleep, you git.

The next morning, Sherlock wakes up and absolutely denies everything.

Sherlock: I did not discuss the intricacies of your knitwear, John. You must be mistaken.

John: Sherlock, you called me a tree.

Sherlock, frowning: I would never compare you to vegetation. That’s preposterous

Sherlock keeps trying to explain deductions but they come out in the form of slurry words, grandiose hand gestures and mumbles;

Sherlock: John, obviously- obvioussssly….the man with the umbrella has- hassss.. an unspoken feud with the barista. I meann look at the foam art. a rageful flower-

John’s trying to help Sherlock walk straight, of course, Sherlock keeps insisting he’s perfectly fine to do so on his own.

Spoiler: He is infact not fine

Sherlock: I am not stumbling, John. My body is merely... readjusting to the curvature of the earth. Do keep up.