TAGS/WARNINGS: Relationship: Mycroft Holmes/John Watson, Bill Murray, Sherlock Holmes, Sugar Daddy, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff, Budding Love, Friendship, Long-Term Relationship(s), growing relationship

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John's POV
It had been nearly six months since he finished his physio and was released from the hospital to live in a shitty little bedrest that took almost all his pension to afford. During that time, he has been searching for some sort of work, as a doctor or anything else he thinks he would be able to do. Unfortunately, no one has been willing to hire him thus far. Each and every job has turned him down for one reason or another, though he has a pretty good idea why.

It is getting to the point where it his PTSD isn't even his biggest issue. Instead it is the bone deep depression and feeling of hopelessness from not having a goal, purpose or sense of direction that is causing his hardest points. The councilor he sees is a waste of time, he has though that since the moment he meet her, though it is not something he is going to say aloud.

So when his old friend Bill Murry appears at his door and orders him to get dressed, he almost rushes to do so, despite the shock he is currently feeling.

Hopefully a night out with his friend will help him get some perspective, maybe even help break the shitty mood he has been in.

A little bit later they are sitting in a booth at a pub, snacking on fish and chips, downing whiskey like it is beer. For the last forty-five minutes Bill has been filling him in on the blokes from the unit, catching him up on how they are doing. It is rather bittersweet.

Finally his friend asks, "So why are you still in that shit hole? I expected you to have gotten a better place by now."

Sighing and shrugging, he answers, "No one wants to hire a vet with a limp, trembling dominate hand, and PTSD."

"That fuckin' sucks mate," his friend replies with a shake of his head.

Nodding in response, he doesn't say anything and they fall into silence for a little bit.

"I know you have a lot of different skills, and you always had a great rep as a lover, why not put those skills to use?" the soldier suggests suddenly.

"I'm not a prostitute," he snaps, not thinking about how that might sound until after he has said it.

Frowning he glowers for a moment. He has nothing against those who willingly work in the sex industry, even sees them as a useful part of society. He respects those who hold their head up proudly and enjoys doing their chosen filed. However for him it is not an option he wants to take, it is not something he could tolerate very well.

Shaking his head, Bill responds, "I didn't say become a prostitute, you could become a professional boyfriend or a sugar-boy." Pausing for a moment, the soldier asks, "You remember my younger brother Peyton?"

"Yeah," he responds with a nod, hard to forget at energetic rugrat.

"He's a sugar-boy, his sugar-daddy patron provides him with a nice flat, clothes, food, and an allowance, in exchange for being available one or two nights a week." Shaking his head again, Bill continues, "Apparently his patron is a married bisexual whose wife does not mind the fact he has a boy on the side as long as everything is kept under contract and is only one person. I don't ask, I don't want to know." Pausing to take another drink, his friend continues, "He spends his days in class, studying whatever catches his fancy, most his evenings are spent at home unless he has prior plans, either by himself or with his patron."

"How'd he get into that?" he queries after thinking about it for several minutes.

"One of his friends from uni is a sugar-boy as well, he belongs to a club that specializes in matching sugar daddies and sugar-boys. Supposedly they have a high success rate," there is another pause as his friend takes a drink, "Peyt was going through a rough patch but refused to ask me or our folks for help, he almost had to drop out of uni before his friend introduced him to the club manager. I think he had two or three interviews before finding one he liked."

Again there is quiet for a few minutes before he asks, "Does he like what he does?"

"Yeah," the soldier replies with a sharp nod, "He's friends with his sugar daddy and the wife, they keep it professional, and I think my brother appreciates the fact there is no emotional entanglement about the situation." Downing what's left of his drink, Bill inquires, "Would you like Peyt's number?"

Slowly he nods after mulling it over and fishing his phone out of his pocket, "Yeah, I can give him a call at a more reasonable hour then."

A smile tugs at his friends lips as they exchange all three numbers, theirs and Peyt's. They have one more round before heading in their own directions. He takes a cab back to the shit ball flat, and Bill takes a different cab back to the barracks with a promise to keep in touch.

While it is not really something he wants to do, it seems to edge a bit close to prostitution in his mind, he still knows it is something to consider. After all, it's not like he has a lot of choices. Besides, if he doesn't have a problem with a prostitute, why should he have a problem with being a professional boyfriend or a sugar-boy? At least it is an honest living, even if it really isn't what he was considering or even looking for.

That's it, he will have to call Peyt in the morning and see if they can have a bit of a chat about it.