[MY deepest apologies - this was meant to be Chapter 1. I have rearranged them; Sorry for any confusion.]

I'm going to kill him.

Even if I can somehow manage to wash the smell of unfiltered sewage water out of my tights, I am never going to get the stench out of my nose.

He couldn't be content just to send me on a pointless mission that took me crawling through the boroughs' sewer systems. Oh, no, not Sherlock Holmes. That would be too easy.

Too sane.

To really drive his point home, he had to make sure I knew the assignment was nothing but busywork.

"A thorough investigation cannot be rushed, Watson. A day foraging through the sewers will do you good," he said, wearing that smug little smirk he gets when he's busy reveling in his superiority. "It will teach you patience."

"Then why don't you go?" I mutter, half under my breath.

"Because I am not the one complaining of having nothing to do."

Sherlock's moods are always hard to predict, but ever since I told him I feel like I'm not doing enough work to justify my salary, the only word I can use to describe him is cranky. He's acting like he did when I first met him – sarcastic and petulant.

If this is the way he is now, I don't even want to imagine what he's going to be like when I tell him I got my medical license back.

If I get it back.

"Ah, Watson, you're here," he says as I march through the door, my boots leaving a pungent trail of watery prints behind me. "You're late. I expected you half an hour ago. I told the sanitation department you would begin work at eight."

He tosses the envelope in his hand down on the desk, where it is almost lost among the clutter of files and dossiers. "Still… no harm done, I suppose. You'll simply have to forgo dinner."

Before I can tell him that there is no way I am going anywhere but into a hot shower, my eyes focus on the part of the envelope still visible.

"Sherlock, that has my name on it."

"You had best hurry, Watson, I hear the better assignments tend to be given out on a first-come first-serve basis."

"Sherlock, give me my letter."

He gets that look in his eyes – the mulish one he gets when he doesn't want to do something. A muscle tics in his jaw as he stiffly extends his arm. "Here."

I turn the letter over in my hands. It bears the return address of the Medical Review Board, postmarked over a week ago. "I've been waiting for this. When did it get here?"

"Tuesday, I believe." He shrugs, unconcerned. "Perhaps it was Wednesday. I can't be expected to remember such trivial details."

"Trivial?" I can't believe it… it's been here for days and I didn't know it. I want to open it, but suddenly I'm too scared. What if the news isn't what I want to hear? "You have no idea how worried I've been."

"You shouldn't have been; I knew you wouldn't fail." His voice is surprisingly distant. The cool, impersonal tone seems somehow wrong after all we have been through. "The board wrote quite a glowing letter welcoming you back."

I tear open the envelope, needing to see the words for myself. It was true; I was officially a doctor again.

And somehow Sherlock knew before I did.

I don't swear a lot, but right now it's taking all of my willpower not to use every curse word I know. "You opened my mail."

"It's always good to keep up with even the most rudimentary of skills. A fact you might wish to remember after you leave here." Busying himself with the papers on the table, he dismisses me with a flick of his hand.

"Leave? There is no way I'm going out again tonight. The sanitation department can go hang."

"Come, Watson, there is no need to play coy with me." He looks up from a file but won't meet my gaze. Instead, he stares at a point somewhere over my left shoulder. "Your recent dissatisfaction with your work, the reinstatement of your medical license… it is obvious you wish to resume your previous profession as a surgeon." His jaw moves as if he wants to say something else, but no words come out.

"That's what this has all been about? You're punishing me because I wanted to get my license back?"

"Ridiculous. I wasn't attempting to punish you. I was merely attempting to cement what I have taught you in your mind." His voice quiets, and for the first time I hear the vulnerability he's been trying to conceal. "I would not care for you to forget our time together."

I am absolutely going to kill him.

He is obnoxious, arrogant, and condescending, and just when I want nothing more than to walk away and pretend I never met him…

…he lets me see a glimpse of the man hiding behind his walls.

"With your exemplary capabilities combined with the deductive skills I have taught you, I am sure you will easily find a suitable position," he continues, his voice regaining its cynical edge. "You will be quite an asset to the institutions that pass for healthcare these days."

Oh, that's just like Sherlock, burying a compliment in self-conceit.

For that, and for all he's put me through the last few days, I am so going to enjoy this.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock," I say, keeping my face calm and impassive so he can't read what I'm really feeling, "but there's one major flaw in your thinking."

The first hint of doubt appears in his cool blue eyes. "How so?"

"I didn't renew my license because I wanted to work in a hospital. I did it because I thought it might help in our investigations."

"You did?"

"Sherlock, do you realize how many times we've snuck into the morgue so you could have me examine a body? I thought it might be nice if I could conduct legal autopsies."

"Ah… I see." His entire body stills as he process my revelation. "I had not considered that possibility."

"I will admit," I add, savoring the slightly sheepish look he cannot completely disguise, "I did think about maybe applying to tutor a class at the teaching hospital. You were right about one thing. The things you've taught me have made me a better doctor. I think they could help others, too. That is, if you don't mind me teaching some of your methods in a place that only 'passes' for healthcare."

Satisfied I've made my point, I place the envelope on the desk in front of him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go take a shower."

"Yes, of course." For once, there is no argument in his voice. Instead, he sounds…

Relieved?

"I will make a call to the sanitation department to let them know you are unavailable," he says, his body relaxing from the rigidity it's been carrying for the past week. "They will have to make do without you tonight."

"Oh, but they are expecting me, and I wouldn't want to leave them short-handed." I give him my sweetest smile, not even bothering to hide the pleasure I am taking in besting the great Sherlock Holmes. "I know - you can fill in for me."

He dips his head once, acknowledging my victory. "Of course, Watson. It would be my pleasure to stand in your place."

"And Holmes… that's Dr. Watson." I hadn't realized until now, but I've missed the way that sounds.

And coming from Sherlock, it will be even sweeter.

"Of course." The edges of his mouth curl up in a smile I'm not sure he's even aware of. "Sleep well, Dr. Watson; I shall see you in the morning when you wake."