It wasn't until John followed Sherlock out of the Exeter train station and up to a large black Landrover that John realised Sherlock had hired a car. He busied himself with putting their cases in the back while Sherlock held a low-voiced conversation with the car rental man, showed him his driving licence and got the keys in exchange. John smiled to himself. Sherlock had a driving licence; he really hadn't expected that.

"So when did you hire the car?" John asked, as he settled into the passenger seat and did up his seatbelt.

"While you were packing."

"Oh, okay." John watched Sherlock drive for a few minutes, then turned his attention to the houses they were passing. He certainly seemed to be a competent driver. But, for some reason, there was a niggle of worry at the back of John's mind. "I didn't expect you to have a driving licence."

Sherlock cast him an impatient glance. "Of course I have a driving licence."

John mulled that one over, his subconscious nudging at him urgently. For some reason, he kept on thinking of Lestrade's warrant card. Sherlock was rather fond of stealing things, like IDs belonging to other people. And John had never noticed a driving licence in Sherlock's name. John gazed at Sherlock again. "As a matter of curiosity, is it a forged driving licence?"

He got another look for that, though there was no impatience in it - more a measuring look. "Well, it depends what you mean by forged."

Evasion. That was a bit not good. "Okay..." John pondered how to phrase it, then asked, "Was it issued by the DVLA in the name of Sherlock Holmes?"

There was a pause, as if Sherlock was considering the question, then, "No."

"So whose name is on the licence?" John enquired, suspecting he already knew the answer.

"Yours."

"I knew it!" John glared at the passing houses, then turned his gaze back on Sherlock. "Why is my name on the licence?"

"Because it's your licence," Sherlock replied, sounding remarkably calm for a man in imminent danger of violence-by-flatmate.

"What - how is that possible?! You look nothing like me!"

"Yes, I know. That's why I had the photo replaced."

For a few seconds, John spluttered, his disbelief warring with his vocal cords. "You had my photo replaced on my driving licence?!" he finally managed.

"It's easy enough to do on driving licences," Sherlock informed him, helpfully. "The more important the ID, the more difficult it is to forge."

"Then it'll be easy enough to switch it back!"

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock actually had the gall to look surprised.

"Because it's my driving licence!"

"You're not using it."

"I could be!" John struggled with his anger. It made it worse that he hadn't even noticed his driving licence was missing. What else had Sherlock 'borrowed' without John noticing?

"You can apply to the DVLA for another one. By the time you want to use it, you'll have a replacement."

If it hadn't been Sherlock, and if he hadn't created the entire situation, it would have sounded reasonable...normal. But, John reflected, he wouldn't be in this situation if Sherlock hadn't stolen and altered his driving licence in the first place. "Why don't you have a driving licence?!" he demanded.

Sherlock gave him another one of those 'how stupid are you?' looks. "I have a driving licence."

John gritted his teeth. "I mean, why don't you have one in your name? Have you passed the test?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Sherlock retorted. "Of course I've passed the test - it's not difficult!"

"Then...why don't you have a licence in your name?"

There was a long pause and another sideways glance, a rather annoyed one this time, without the implication that John was a moron. "Mycroft!" Sherlock replied. John opened his mouth to ask for an explanation, but Sherlock continued, the words tumbling over themselves like water from a broken dam. "It wasn't my fault; the sort of accident that could happen to anyone! But he won't let me have my licence back - he says it's not safe!" Sherlock spat the last word with so much venom John was surprised the windscreen was still in place.

"What accident?" he asked, wondering if it was safe to let Sherlock drive. A thought hit him, and he exclaimed, "Hang on! If you have an accident in this car, it'll go on my licence!"

"I don't have accidents!" Sherlock snapped, giving John an indignant look.

"Well you did!"

"Just the one! It wasn't my fault! If that octopus hadn't been there, I would've been fine!"

John pinched the bridge of his nose. This was surreal, but so typical of Sherlock. "There was an octopus in your car?"

The road seemed forgotten as Sherlock glared at John. "John, do you honestly believe -"

"Mind the road!" John made a grab for the wheel, then sat back feeling weak with relief as Sherlock swerved back into his own lane without hitting anyone.

"That was not my fault!"

"No, it was mine. Or the octopus's!" John stared at Sherlock's profile wondering when the world had gone so mad.

"What do you expect when you ask me about an octopus in my car?! Why would there be an octopus in my car?"

"You were the one who mentioned an octopus!" John pointed out.

"It wasn't in my car!"

Sherlock cast him another heated look but turned his gaze back on the road when John snapped, "Eyes on the road, Sherlock! If you're going to impersonate me at least drive like me!"

There was an indignant huff, but Sherlock said, "The octopus was in a lorry being transported. I..." There was a pause, then Sherlock continued, a faint tinge of pink covering his cheek, "Thought I was seeing things when this tentacle waved at me. I swerved, clipped the edge of the lorry, it tipped over..." He shifted in his seat. "Anyway, I lost my licence and Mycroft won't let me have it back."

"You were high, weren't you?"

The pink deepened, and Sherlock muttered, "I may have been. But that was years ago!" His voice rose to its normal demanding tone. "I should have my licence back by now but, for some reason, the DVLA keeps on mislaying my application."

"Ah, Mycroft." That explained that then. John relaxed into his seat. "So we'll be fine as long as we don't run into any octopuses, then?"

"We're not likely to encounter any octopuses in Devon, John," Sherlock said, reassuringly. "I think you're quite safe."

"No octopuses, just gigantic dogs," John muttered. "I feel much better."

"Hounds, John, hounds." Sherlock had a satisfied look on his face. "I think this is going to be quite interesting."

End.

10th January 2012.

Note: The DVLA is the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency, the government department in charge of (surprise!) licences.