The microbes wriggled along the slide, and Sherlock grinned wolfishly into her microscope. It never disappointed her. Stashing the information securely in her mind palace, she selected her next slide and clipped it into the microscope; she was interrupted by the always-fluttering Molly,

"Hi, um, Sherlock, someone is here to see you."

Men, judging by her expression. She will never give up on me.

On cue, Mike Stamford strode through the lab doors with another man in tow. The second man was shorter, compact, with sandy hair and weathered skin. Military, injured in battle, limp-probably psychosomatic, old shoulder wound, tanned skin means Middle East.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?" The veteran stared at her, a mixture of anger and awe flickering across his features,

"I'm sorry, what did you say to me?"

"I said Iraq or Afghanistan?"

Mike Stamford interrupted, somewhat anxious, "Sherl," she growled at the nickname but he continued, "this is Dr. John Watson. Captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, retired now. He's a friend from uni. He was telling me today about his dismal flat and I remembered that you wanted someone to split rent."

The proposal hung in the air, and John broke the silence, "Mike, you didn't mention Sherlock Holmes was a woman. I wasn't expecting…I don't know that I should…"

"Do you have a problem with women, Dr. Watson?" Her tone was icy, her blue eyes narrowed to slits as she confronted him. Sherlock had encountered many men like this, Mike Stamford being one of them. They all seemed to think that she was a slave to hormones and dreams of babies. The doctor stared at her, startled, and responded immediately.

"Not at all, but people will talk."

"Ah, Dr. Watson, people do little else. The address is 221 Baker Street. Meet me there this evening and I will show you the flat. There are stairs, but I am certain you will be able to handle them as your limp is psychosomatic which I'm sure your therapist has told you. I'd fire her though, she's an idiot." Molly, Mike, and John all gaped at her as she turned back to her microscope and settled another slide onto the tray.

"Afghanistan, by the way." And at that the doctor was gone. Sherlock smiled again into her microscope, He'll be there. He won't be able to stay away.