"Ten pounds says he's gay."
Anderson looked up. "Ten? Make it twenty and you're on."
Donovan grinned. "Deal. But you better have the money."
Anderson just rolled his eyes. "If he's gay, don't you think they'd be together?"
Donovan looked at him. "Who says they aren't?"
"I mean, publicly." Anderson clarified.
"Just shake on it." Donovan stuck out her hand. Anderson shook it, and they returned to their work.
Sherlock and Lestrade were standing off to the scene of the crime, discussing, for whatever reason relating to the murder, different brands of umbrellas. John was examining the fingernails of the body.
Donovan and Anderson exchanged looks and nodded. She went towards John, while he headed for the consulting detective.
"So, Watson, I heard The Freak's got himself a girlfriend. Truth?" She asked.
John froze for a second, then continued picking at the crime scene. "Sherlock doesn't do girlfriends. Too dull."
She smirked. "Boyfriend, then?"
"Sherlock doesn't do relationships, girlfriend or boyfriend. Interferes with his work." John said.
Donovan frowned. "Then, what's going on-"
"If you'll excuse me, I believe Molly needs the data I collected." John stood up and pushed past her.
She watched him go, then grinned to herself.
"Oi, Freak, bunch of the Yard are headed down to the bar tonight. Fancy coming?" Anderson called to Sherlock.
The man looked at him. "The bar? How incredibly mundane. I don't drink on a case. Messes up the mind."
Anderson tried again. "So don't drink. Find yourself a girl. Lord knows you need one."
Lestrade started laughing, but stopped with a look from Sherlock.
"I don't need a girl, or particularly want one. Relationships are dull, and besides I'm so much obviously smarter than anybody who would want to date me that I tire of them or infuriate them in some way and they take off. "Girls" aren't my thing, anyway."
Anderson thought he must not have heard that last part. "Pardon? Girls arent your thing?"
Sherlock gave him the are-you-deaf-as-well-as-dumb look. "I said, I don't do relationships. Girl or guy. Don't do it."
Anderson took that. "Right then. See ya round."
Sherlock watched his retreating form. Turning to Lestrade, he asked, "Why are they so obvious? Do they think they're being clever?"
"Not everyone is as clever as you, Holmes." Lestrade smirked.
"True. In fact, there are only three in existence, as far as I know, and one was killed by someone who almost matches me."
Lestrade looked at him. "Do you mean the cabbie? You do know who killed him? Who was it?"
"Fancy a coffee, Inspector?" Sherlock asked over his shoulder as he strode off.
Anderson and Donovan met up after work. Both were confused as hell.
"Holmes is… complicated." Anderson observed.
Donovan rolled her eyes. "He's the only consulting detective in the world. Course he's complicated."
"Whatever. Time for step two." Anderson said.
"What is this, Mission Impossible?" Donovan asked. "We just need to talk to him some more."
"Oh no, I've got something better." Anderson smiled, rubbing his hands together.
Donovan rolled her eyes again.
Sherlock and John were back at 221B Baker street for the night. Sherlock was on John's laptop and John was looking through Sherlock's bookcase.
"Why have you got six copies of the Oxford English Dictionary?" John asked over his shoulder.
"Looking for spelling errors." Came the answer. John shook his head.
There was a knock at the door. Sherlock said, "John, there was a knock at the door."
"Yes, I heard it, Sherlock." John left the books and went to answer the door.
When he opened it, he was surprised to see Sally Donovan looking back at him.
He stared at her for a few seconds.
"Well, can I come in or are you gonna stand there and gawk at me forever?" She snapped.
John blinked. "Oh, right. Come… come in."
He showed her upstairs, where Sherlock was still typing on the laptop.
Sherlock looked up, at Donovan, then John, then Donovan, then back to John.
"I would be worried about you bringing vermin into the house, but I daresay I've brought in worse." He commented, then returned to his work.
"If this is another drug bust, I've been clean, Lestrade knows that." He said, not looking up.
Donovan sighed. "Not here for you, Freak, I'm here for your flatmate."
John peered at her. "Me? Why?"
"Wanted to know if you'd like to come to dinner with me tomorrow night. At Angelo's." She said, looking at him.
Sherlock paused in his typing, but didn't lift his eyes from the screen.
John looked at Sherlock, then said, "I'd have to check the calendar. Hang on for a sec."
Donovan was surprised as he walked into the kitchen. When he came back, looking apologetic, she wondered if she was wrong, after all.
"Sorry, Sally, but I've got a dentist appointment tomorrow, and I'm likely to be too sore after that to go anywhere for a week. Looks like it won't happen any time soon. Thanks for dropping by, though. Let me get the door for you."
Neither of them saw Sherlock's sly grin as he remembered they hadn't got a calendar in the kitchen.
As she walked out of the appointment, Donovan thought she might actually lose twenty pounds to Anderson.
Anderson was gloating at Angelo's the next day, after Donovan had reported back to him.
He looked around and saw, to his surprise, John and Sherlock walk in. He thought John had an appointment.
He watched them as they sat in a secluded corner. Angelo himself brought them their menus, and a candle. John protested at the candle, but Angelo lit it anyway.
Sherlock said nothing. John sighed, but looked at his menu anyway. Then he folded it and looked at Sherlock.
Anderson strained to hear what they were saying.
"So, Mr. Holmes, another case cracked. Now, will you eat something?"
"I'll have a light salad. Will that make you happy?"
"Sherlock, please. I'm worried about you. You never eat and all you'll drink is tea. Those nicotine patches don't count as food."
"I said I'd have a salad, John."
"No! You'll eat a full meal, and I'll buy you a dessert, which you WILL eat. Are we clear?"
"Sherlock. I'm begging you. You've lost too much weight in the last two months. Please eat."
"… Fine. But only so that you won't bother me anymore."
"Thank you, Sherlock."
Angelo returned to their table, and John ordered both of their meals. Anderson watched as they ate, and when Sherlock put down his fork halfway through and John, without looking at the man, picked up the fork, stabbed some pasta, and held it out to him, Sherlock ate it and then grabbed the fork again, Anderson thought, maybe, he was wrong.
After their meal, Angelo brought them a dessert menu. Sherlock took it, ordered two slices of cheesecake, and a glass of wine.
John looked at him with such pride and thanks that Sherlock, the man of iron, blushed.
They left together, with John's arm around Sherlock's waist.
Anderson stared after them. Scowling, he checked his wallet to make sure he had twenty pounds.
"John... can I ask you something?"
"Course, Sherlock." The doctor was reading the newspaper.
He looked up. "What is it-"
He was silenced by a pair of lips on his.
John was so surprised he forgot to breathe, and When he opened his mouth to draw breath Sherlock's tongue went in, too, and his lips were still pressed to John's and it was marvelous and they were fighting for dominance and John wasn't pulling away and Sherlock brought his hands up to run his fingers throughout John's hair-
-And Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door.
"Tea, dearies?"
They broke apart. Sherlock stared at John evenly. John stared back, considerably less evenly.
"Yes." John said. He wasn't sure which person he said it to, but both accepted it.
Sherlock kissed his forehead and left.
A minute later Mrs. Hudson brought him a cup of tea, and John didn't even notice.
They were at Scotland Yard. Lestrade had called Sherlock to examine a case and, of course, Sherlock would be lost without his blogger.
Anderson and Donovan met just outside, each with their money in hand.
They eyed each other.
"One last look?" Anderson asked. Donovan agreed.
They walked through the doors and saw Lestrade, Sherlock, and John.
Well, they saw Lestrade laughing, THEN they saw Sherlock and John.
Snogging.
With their arms wrapped around each other.
Wordlessly, Donovan held out her hand. Anderson placed the twenty pounds in it.
"Told you." She said.