The next day, John wakes up a bit groggy, but not too beaten. Until he feels he is not alone in his bed. First he smiles to himself, wondering who he scored with, but when he realizes it's Sherlock, he shrieks in panic: “Holy fuck!” Sherlock, jumping up startled, doesn't make things better by being nearly naked. "I know this looks bad, but I promise, we did nothing that you didn't want!", he shouts. John screams even more: “What the hell are you talking about? What happened?”, and starts to make wild speculations: “Did you do this to me? Is this one of your experiments? Did you drug... wait... did you drug my tea?”

His friend quickly confirms: “Well, yes, I gave you some Polcitine...”, but can't get around to the details, as John howls: “You what???”, looking at him with a mixed expression of fear, disgust and anger: "How could you do this to me? I'm your best friend, and you give me...", his shoulder acts up at that moment, making his eyes watering. But suddenly his face hardens, as something dawns on him: "Oh I get it now!? Waited for me to be too helpless to defend myself, ey? Then just spike my tea, and Mr. Holmes can study the effects of a rape drug AND the event on his own private victim, is that it?" Sherlock pleads with tears in his eyes: "No, that's not what happened. I just wanted to ease your pain and lighten your mood..." "OH, THANK YOU SO MUCH, FOR MAKING IT LOOK LIKE CONSENT TO EVERYONE BUT ME!!!", the doctor screams at the top of his lungs, his face all red.

Then he grabs his alarm clock and hurls it at the detective, ripping the lamp from the nightstand to throw next and yelling: "Get out! Get away from me you monster! You disgusting maniac!" Sherlock doesn't get hit, because John's arm still hurts and has worse aim than the left, despite the young Holmes only slowly backing up to the door, silenced by his friends rage. When Watson is out of ammo, he collapses onto the bed, hugging his hurting shoulders tight. Sherlock makes one last attempt to explain himself: "That's not what happened. I didn't use you, John! You made love to ME, and it was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me, because you're my first, and you were gentle, and you said you loved me!" "Shut up you evil psycho pervert!", John yells, finally scaring his friend out of the room.

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Once alone, the army vet quickly composes himself, forcing himself to get dressed to flee the house, scared and confused. He first hits up Molly Hooper, to ask her for help about finding a rape drug. "For a case?", she inquires curious, “For Sherlock?” "No, for a case against Sherlock!", he bellows irritated. Her eyes widen: "You're kidding? Sherlock? Where is the evidence?" He rolls up his sleeve to point out: "In here, if I'm lucky!” There is a moment of awkward silence, before Molly finds her speech again, hushing: "No!” "Yes!", John growls dark. "Sherlock? Why would he give you a...?" He gives her a long dark look. Finally, she exclaims bewildered: "NO!"

"Yes!", he simply states. "He wouldn't...", she insists, but he remains firm: "He did!" Hooper still wants to deny it: "Why would he ever... there must be some mistake, he couldn't...", yet Watson interjects: "Yes he did, he did Molly, trust me!" "But how do you...", she keeps doubting, so John snaps, roaring at her: "I WOKE UP, NAKED, WITH NO MEMORY WHATSOEVER, TO FIND HIM LYING NEXT TO ME, ALSO NAKED, CLAIMING WE HAD BEEN INTIMATE, IS THAT ENOUGH EVIDENCE FOR YOU, MOLLY?!?" The young woman is silenced with shock. After a few awkward moments, she quietly moves to take his blood. "Do you, um, need other samples as well?", John asks more shy again, not facing her. "John.", she looks at him very sad but strict, until he meets her eyes, "If you really need to get evidence, then you have to go to the police. Right now! The longer you wait the more is lost."

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