Hi dear all! Thanks for visiting my story! I must apologize in advance for any mistakes (spelling, medical or otherwise ;)

And still: I don't own anything and I make no profit (other than happiness from your reviews)

A bit not good, and more than a bit embarrassing.

John is kissing her fiercely, one hand in her soft black hair and the other behind her back, pulling her close. She is kissing him back. Without breaking the kiss John opens the door to the apartment, and prays in silence Sherlock isn't home.

He isn't.

The pair stumbles inside. John pulls off his jacket and throws it somewhere behind him. Katy – he's pretty sure her name is Katy – smiles seductively while she takes off her jeans jacket and steps out of her pumps.

'Where's your room?' She whispers in his ear.

'Upstairs.' Johns is slightly out of breath, a bad sign since they didn't even get started yet….

Katy smiles again. She looks around, locates the stairs and walks backwards towards it, while holding John's hand. John just smiles back. He is sure he looks stupid and not half as seductive as the beautiful, young woman leading him up the stairs, but he doesn't care. He is finally going to get laid tonight. It has been way, way too long. Everything is right: Katy is really into him, for some reason… ; he cleaned his room; he just bought a pack of condoms, and, most importantly, Sherlock isn't home.

As soon as they enter the room Katy starts to take off both her and John's clothes simultaneously. This is going to be fast… John reaches into his jeans pocket to get the condoms. He can't find them. Shit, they must be in his jacket. Down stairs. Damn it.

'Baby…' He mumbles in between her kisses.

'Hmm?'

'Baby, I need to get something from down stairs.'

She doesn't look up or stop kissing him. 'Like what?'

'Condoms.'

Now she stops. She looks at John. He is a bit startled for a second. She's not going to suggest having sex without it, does she…? But then she smiles at him.

'You're such a responsible guy, aren't you, John?'

'Ehm well…' John feels awkward. Katy sinks down on the bed, pulls John in for a kiss and then says: 'Well, hurry up and get them, I'll be here…'

He smiles at her and then leaves the room.

Damn. That was a bit embarrassing, but she's sweet about it, John thinks while closing the buttons on his jeans. She really is fast.

As soon as John enters the living room he hears a familiar and temporarily unwelcome baritone voice:

'Ah John, you're home. Good.'

Oh no! John tries to ignore the clearly energized detective sitting on the couch. But Sherlock continues talking without looking at his blogger.

'A client called me for help after the death of his girlfriend. Sixteen, died after being in a coma for several days after a car accident. The doctors told the family she was recovering, but this morning she suddenly died of respiratory failure and low blood pressure. It could be a natural death, most likely as a result of her injuries, according to her parents and not disputed by the doctors. Murder, according to the boyfriend.'

John is hardly listening. Where on earth did he throw his jacket?

'Really? Sounds interesting Sherlock. Good luck with it.'

'Interesting?' Sherlock glares at his friend from the couch. 'It is not interesting, John. There are absolutely no medical indications that the girl was murdered. At all.'

John lifts the pillow and a couple of magazines from one of the chairs in the living room. 'Then why did you take the case?'

'Because of the reaction of the father to my presence.' Sherlock sinks into the couch, his fingertips touching, staring into nothing.

John doesn't look up from his search, but Sherlock continues, talking more to himself than to John.

'According to the boyfriend Gina has always been perfectly healthy. He said she was suddenly coughing and complaining of nausea a few hours after returning to boarding school from her parents' house. He and Gina went for a bike ride together when she started sweating and seemed to have trouble breathing. She stopped in the middle of the road and was hit by a car. In the hospital they removed fluid from her lungs and casted her broken leg. It seemed she would make a full recovery but then the parents came to visit and the next morning she was dead.'

'Oh please.' John had stopped searching and leans on the chair in the living room, staring at the detective. 'Are you telling me that you suspect the father of killing his daughter just because he was a bit uneasy about you showing up just hours after his child died.'

Sherlock bends forward on the couch. 'He was more than a bit uneasy, doctor. He was-'

'He was grieving!'

The men stare at each other for a few seconds, before Sherlock drops his head into his hands and ruffles his hair. 'Ahh, you're probably right! But I need a case, John! And my instincts tell me Gina didn't die a natural death, even though there is no medical proof!'

John shakes his head and turns to look for something – what was he looking for again? – near the fireplace. 'Yeah, Sherlock. Either that or ricin poisoning.'

'What?' Sherlock's looks up. 'Ricin. That is it! John you are brilliant. You are amazing! Ricin! Why didn't I think of that.'

'What?' John frowns. 'I was kidding, Sherlock. There is no way this girl was poisoned with ricin. Where would the parents get that? Why would the parents even do that?'

But Sherlock eyes are sparkling, like always when he has a breakthrough in a case. 'Not the parents, John; the father! The father who didn't want me there! The father who hates the boyfriend. The father who so profoundly refused when I suggested an autopsy.'

'That is ridiculous! Sherlock, you don't seriously believe a sixteen year-old girl was poisoned with ricin, by her father, because he doesn't like the boyfriend?!'

'I don't know why she was killed- yet - but I will! We have to go to the hospital, get medical proof of the poisoning and catch this ruthless killer!'

'We?!'

'Yes we! Here, read the medical report before we go!' Sherlock shoves a document over the coffee table in John's direction. The doctor sighs. This is not good. The detective is ranting again… and also, he has the eerie feeling he is forgetting something…. Something important… He opens the report.

'Sherlock, how did you get this? You're not supposed to-'

'Bla. Bla. Bla. Don't be so pedantic John. It's boring.'

John skims the medical content, and then his inner-doctor takes over: 'It is strange she suddenly fell ill a few days before….' Sherlock beams, '... she could have eaten something wrong….. but then again, that would probably not create these symptoms….' John mutters to himself.

'Enough, doctor Watson.' The detective declares while walking into the hallway. 'We are going to the hospital.' And he hands John his jacket

John takes it. 'Hey, I was looking for that.'

Sherlock frowns. 'Really? Why?'

Then they hear a female voice coming from the staircase: 'John?'

John suddenly remembers….. Oh God…..!

'Oh no….' John looks at the floor. Humiliation washes over him when a barefoot girl walks into the hallway. Her dark hair is ruffled and she quickly buttons up her blouse when she sees Sherlock.

'John, what the hell….?' She starts as she looks from John (medical report in one hand, jacket in the other) to Sherlock (scarf around his neck, jacket over his arm).

'Where you leaving?' She hisses at the doctor.

'No, no, no!' John waives with the report and the jacket. His face is burning with embarrassment, how could he forget Katy? 'Sherlock and I were just discussing a case.'

'A case?' The high pitch of her voice makes Sherlock grimace.

'Please stay.' John pleads as Katy angrily starts putting on her shoes. She ignores him. 'Please Katy, I'll make it up to you!'

Then she looks up. Furious. Her eyes are flaming with anger. 'My name is Carry!' She yells in his face before grabbing her jacket and storming down the stairs.

John stands in the hall way. Jacket and report still in his hands. Shocked and totally embarrassed. He wishes he the earth would open up underneath him so he can disappear.

'Ahum…' Behind him Sherlock clears his throat. 'I assume that was a bit not good.'

'Y..Yeah…' John stutters, 'bit….bit not good.'

He feels horrible. How could he forget that beautiful, seductive young woman upstairs? He can't help but imagine her sitting on his bed, fixing her hair, undoing her blouse, waiting for him while he was downstairs arguing about a case with Sherlock?! It is too much. It is too embarrassing.

Someday, he tries to tell himself, someday this will all be just a funny story to tell in a bar! Oh God, what if Lestrade ever hears about this….? John suddenly giggles.

Sherlock glances at him. 'What? I thought we we're supposed to laugh at things "a bit not good"?'

John is shaking with laughter. 'Sorry Sherlock, but this is just….it is just….' John calms himself and takes a deep breath. 'I guess I will never get a girlfriend as long as we are working together. Maybe I should just marry you now and get it over with.' He jokes.

The detective grins at him. 'I promise nothing until I see a ring.'

They stand in the hallway smiling for a minute, and then Sherlock darts to the stairs.

'Come on doctor, we have a ricin-murder to expose.'

Thanks for reading! I always love to hear what you think! It is really a motivation to write!