John Watson the Rent Boy

Chapter 1

Sherlock sat still as stone in his usual leather armchair beside the fire.

He had been there for some time, now. John had noted it as his longest time yet; 48 hours. The Doctor got worried after the third day he had come home from the surgery to find Sherlock unmoved still.

"Sherlock, you have to move, how have you not been to the bathroom?" John said incredulously as he squatted down before the man made of marble.

"Don't be ridiculous, John, I have only been here a few hours" Sherlock spoke. His voice was raspy and unused as his red eyes refocused on the Doctor's facial features.

"No, you have not. It has now been three days" John said firmly as he raised a hand to Sherlock's face, moving a greasy fringe in order to feel the man's temperature. Moving his hands he stood slightly to lean over the man and lift his eyelids. Seeing nothing compromising the Consulting Detective's health, John returned to his squatted position.

"Sherlock, there have been no cases. What are you thinking about?" John asked gently, laying a comforting hand on top of the younger mans.

Sherlock instantly looked down at their hands before he made a move to stand, ripping his hand away. John leapt out of the way as Sherlock all but jumped over his flatmate to get to the bathroom.

John couldn't help but be a bit dejected at his resident Sociopath's odd behaviour and secretly wondered if he disgusted the Detective with physical contact.

Some time later as the sun dropped from the sky, John turned in his armchair as the living room door opened.

"I'm going out" Sherlock stated through the crack in the door.

"A case?" John asked tentatively.

Sherlock did not answer as he slowly ebbed away from the door and trotted down the stairs.

John sat for approximately a minute before leaping up and grabbing his jacket with the intention of following the detective.

John tried his hardest to keep to the shadows, using all of the skills Sherlock had taught him to use when following a suspect. Sherlock was walking against the cold night's wind, his coat and scarf pulled efficiently up to his chin. John had deduced by the aroma in the hallway before he left; that Sherlock had showered using his own mint shower gel and had used the nicest aftershave he had. Therefore, Sherlock must be meeting someone, John surmised.

The streets gradually got busier as the Consulting Detective weaved in and out of streets and alleyways. Eventually, John noticed his surroundings with a sickening jolt. He had only been in this part of town once, and it was not a desirable place to be.

Rounding the last corner, John hovered in the alley behind a large waste bin watching as Sherlock approached the notorious night club across the street.

After an hour of hiding in the filthy alley, John spied Sherlock walking out of the club and hailing a taxi. John watched the taxi disappear from view as he curiously crossed the road into the night club.

The place was a hell-hole. As well as being a notorious gay bar, it was the number one crime location in London. John spied the barman and aimed for the stool that stood alone at the bar. Sitting down he ordered a pint, despite the location he needed the drink.

"Hello, what's your name then?" A man asked in a rather camp voice. John looked up to see that this man was the same height and build as himself. His blonde hair was closely cropped and his eyes were a light blue.

"Hi, I'm….Martin" John responded, lifting a hand in order to shake the stranger's.

"Well, hello Martin" he said with a seductive smile; "I'm John" he replied, taking 'Martin's' offered hand.

'Martin's' smile slipped ever so slightly as he gawped a little at this stranger. "I see, and what's your second name?" Martin asked lightly.

"Keen are we?" John asked with a smile. "Watson, John Watson" the stranger replied.

Martin's jaw hung a little loosely as he eyed this man suspiciously; he now noticed that the coat he wore was not dissimilar to his own, and his jeans and shoes were almost a dead match.

"So, John" Martin started "I take it you work here?" he asked casually.

"Yes and no" John replied. "I work here when I don't like what I see" he hinted with a smirk.

"And is John Watson your real name?" Martin asked curiously.

"No" John laughed. "A man I met here says I suit the name." he explained as he leaned against the bar.

"Oh really?" Martin asked, trying to sound causal. "Sounds like a regular".

"Oh, he is. Wonderful man, if I could get him to settle down, I'd be a happy housewife" The man giggled.

Martin smiled slightly in thought before he straightened his coat. "Well, it was lovely to meet you, John. But I'd best be off now. Will you be in tomorrow?" thinking he might as well do his act properly, Martin winked suggestively.

"You betcha soldier boy" John said with a lean towards Martin. "Always wondered what it would be like to do the naughty with a body double" he said with a smile.

Martin's eyes widened slightly but he recovered quickly, firing back; "As long as I don't have to share you with your….regular customer."

"Oh, I'm afraid he doesn't share does cheekbones. He just likes the one on one, if you catch my drift." John and Martin smiled to one another before Martin exited the building as slowly as he could manage.

The walk back to Baker Street felt unreal. John tried to piece together the information he had gained. Sherlock had spent an exceedingly long time thinking, with no case or apparent conundrums. He was a regular at the Hose Pipe gay club; he had named a prostitute after him. Sherlock obviously had 'experienced' this man as he suggested they had done 'one on one'. Sherlock was gay; John knew this from their first dinner together….

Sherlock wanted John.

John's immediate reaction was to be hurt. Why hadn't his colleague, his friend, his flatmate, his hero, his Sociopathic madman asked him first?

It was now that John stopped still in the street.

What would have been his answer if Sherlock had asked?

John admired Sherlock. He would do anything for that curly haired and high cheekbone-d genius, but would he kiss him? Would he hold him? Would he dare venture further?

A taxi beeped its horn angrily as it approached John at speed. John's reverie, however, wasn't broken by the noise of screeching tyres, nor the car horn, nor the bright headlights, nor the drunks laughing in the alley, but instead by a large figure pushing him violently onto the pavement and consequently into the brick building close by.

John breathed heavily as the air blasted free from his lungs and his gaze was met with ice blue eyes staring down at him.

Sherlock's breathing was heavy from his obvious running. He had John's back pushed up against the building in question and his body was flush with the Doctor's, pinning him in place.

This position was held a little longer than was usual as both men stared at each other, breathing heavily and appearing to be lost for words.

"Sher-Sherlock" John muttered as he recovered from being winded.

"You shouldn't have followed me, John" Sherlock growled, still holding the Doctor firmly in place.

"I'm – I'm sorry." John said, still a little shaken.

"Can you walk?" Sherlock asked, his threatening demeanour changing in an instant to concern.

"Yea, yea, I can walk" John said hurriedly.

Sherlock sideways stared at John as though examining him before he let him down gently to hold himself up right.

John leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh as Sherlock stood back from him, now avoiding his gaze.

"Do not go back there; I am in the middle of a case. You could compromise it." Sherlock warned, looking to a taxi as it whirled past them.

John looked to the floor sadly. He could possibly be wrong in his assumptions after all.