When Sherlock sees nothing wrong with going undercover as a prostitute in order to solve a case, John is completely disgusted by his friends disregard for something so personal. It never occurred to him that Sherlock had become accustomed to non-consensual sex a very young age. It never occurred to Sherlock that he had even been raped.

A/N: This was sort of inspired by the episode with Irene, though she'll have no part in this story. I never really liked her, I hope she doesn't come back. Though I want more Sally scenes! I love Sally! As usual, i'm my own BETA, so if there are mistakes, please tell me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Boredom usually bred the strangest of situations between the two.

John had no idea why using the word "sex" around Sherlock suddenly felt like using a nasty curse word around his mother when he was in his late teens. Be it the sheer awkwardness of the word, and the even more awkward images that came to mind when associating sex with Sherlock, or the ease in which it came off of the man's tongue, like a machine, John didn't know.

John had to applaud Sherlock as few had become desensitized to the baggage carried with the word sex, and fewer had come close to tossing it in itself around so carelessly. Yet as impressed as John was of Sherlock, he was slightly worried.

"A prostitute?" John sat in his old chair where he had been reading the morning post, the top fold the daily paper flapped down as he looked suspiciously at dark haired male sitting feet away from him, "You want to pose as a prostitute... ?"

"I see nothing wrong with it," Sherlock spoke calmly, as he took a sip of his tea, "It's just sex."
John sighed and folded the paper "There you go with that again. Sherlock, what if the "client" you're trying to get close to has some disease? Have you thought of that?"

With a laptop now laying on his lap, the detective chuckled behind the screen, "I'm perfectly aware of my target's history. There are no disease to be caught."

John shook his head in disbelief, "And that makes it okay? You're comfortable with having...sex with some random stranger?"

Sherlock smiled, "Some random stranger happens to be a prime means of solving our case. And besides, it's just sex. Why it bothers you so much, I haven't a clue."

John's face burned with embarrassment, "I just don't want you making some big mistake or anything like that! You could get hurt you know."

"You speak as if i'm some school boy whose never had sex in his life."

There was a silence, a profound silence. And in this profound silence, John loitered a mind palace of his own. He reminded himself that as robotic as Sherlock seemed to be, that the man was indeed a man, and most likely had had sex in his younger years.

"I never said that you didn't!" John said in his defense, "I'm simply saying that you're not some teenage kid who sex means nothing to! This is indee-"

"Teenage?" Sherlock interrupted with a raised eyebrow, "Why teenage"

Shit! Had John somehow managed to insult him by implying the last time he had sex was when he was a teenager?

"I-I didn't mean it like that Sherlock, I just meant that most people start...you know, when they're teenagers. Sex means nothing to them...nothing. It's more of a prize I guess...who get it first."

Sherlock took another sip of his tea, "There's a prize, hmm?"

"Suppose so," John stood and began to make his way to the kitchen, "Hormonal sixteen year olds are the worse."

"Sixteen, is it?" Sherlock continued, rather interested in the topic, "That's when they do it, huh?"
"Sex, yeah, I guess so," John replied, "being kids, I guess."

Sherlock smiled, "I've won the prize, then."

John looked back, "Excuse me?"

"Sex" Sherlock shut the computer, "came to me before the age of sixteen. "

John tried not to look surprised, "What, fifteen? No biggie, I've met a few blokes who've been there."

"Younger," Sherlock said with a hint of excitement, ignorantly accepting the challenge, "A few years younger."

John slowly returned to his chair, and a look of concern fell on his face, "Fifteen is pretty young..."
"Oh, but isn't it just a game?" Sherlock mused, and if this was going where John thought it was going, had Sherlock been telling himself it was just a game for years?

"...I don't know..." John breathed, "I don't think I want to know."

John stood up and resumed his way to the kitchen. There was a comfortable silence that ensued shortly after, and it was comfortable because John could pretend that the conversation they just had was not real, that Sherlock wasn't going to play the ploy or a prostitute, and that they would go back to "normal" cases. He could persuade his friend out of his insane idea later on. The calm air that hung about continued to comfort the nervous doctor.

That is, until Sherlock broke the silence,

"Eight," came the deep voice, yet it was somewhat distant, and slightly confused "Can't say I was looking for it though."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Hope you enjoyed it! I was going to post more, but I wasn't entirely sure if you'd like it...review if you want me to continue. Anyway, have an awesome week, and God bless!