For those who are interested, I haven't forgotten about my other story at all! I plan to update it this week. But this plot has been kicking around and I wanted to start posting it on here. Basically it is taken from the clichéd and normally cracktastic prompt of "Sherlock and John have sex for science." The twist is I am writing it as seriously and realistically as I can. It is also written from Sherlock's POV, which is fun, but challenging. Anywho, please read and review! I appreciate all comments and suggestions! This is set after The Hounds of Baskerville, but before The Reichenbach Fall.

Title: In The Name Of

Rating: Overall is M, but this section is PG-13 at most. M because Sex and Drugs. No Rock n' Roll, although I might have Sherlock play something on his violin later.

Pairing: John/Sherlock

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but this laptop.

Come downstairs. Urgent

-SH

I had the message typed out hours before I sent it. However, I waited until after John had come back, showered, and had a chance to sit down. I have found that, in order to prevent unnecessary conflict between us, John needs a requisite 22 minutes from the time he comes home until he can be disturbed by me. Today, I even graciously add five minutes to that time. Well, perhaps it is not gracious since his happiness is crucial for my latest experiment. And John chides me for having no patience! I always have patience when it comes to my work.

I press send and listen as John shifts on his bed to reach the phone on the nightstand. I smirk when immediately I hear his footfalls heading towards the door.

I had successfully solved a case as of 10:54pm last night. It was particularly difficult, so I am still on a bit of a high from the success. And the early hour at which it was solved meant that John got a good night's rest leaving him well-prepared for work. This always puts him in good humor. In general, John and I have been on good terms as of late. He is between girlfriends at the moment, which is always good news for me. Without them he is happier and willing to spend more time with me.

I must have gotten caught up in my thinking again, because suddenly John is standing over me and pointing at my crotch. "Sherlock, why are you wearing my boxers?"

Damn, I completely forgot about that. Leave it to John to notice something as mundane and domestic as this and get upset over it. "Mrs. Hudson told me 'it's not decent' to walk about in the nude, in my flat."

"Our flat, Sherlock. Which we rent from Mrs. Hudson. Which still does not explain why you have on my boxers."

"Three reasons." I reply, hoping that will end it.

"Enlighten me."

I sigh. One minor mistake and I might have to call off the whole thing for today. "Well, your waist is larger allowing me to wear these more like shorts, reducing the chances Mrs. Hudson will yell at me for only wearing underwear. Two. Yours were closer. And three yours were cleaner."

"What did Mrs. Hudson refuse to do your laundry again?"

I nod. "She said the chemicals on my clothes from my experiments react badly with her detergent and she wasn't about to buy a new washing machine."

"You know it isn't that hard to go somewhere and do them your - oh who am I kidding? You don't even make the coffee."

"I made coffee for you, twice."

"Yeah, and the first time it was drugged."

"No, it wasn't."

"Well, you thought you had drugged – urghhhhh." He grabs the bridge of his nose signaling an oncoming headache. This is in no way good for my plans.

At least three weeks of planning being ruined by an apparent social faux-pas. I wrack my brain. What is the appropriate thing to say in these situations? Times like these make me wish I had two John Watsons that I could observe interacting with each other in order to figure out how to better communicate with him. As it is I have to stick with my own knowledge. So I sit up and start to pull the offending article of clothing down. "Here, you can have them back." His hand on mine stops me.

"No! No, just, you just keep them, now. They're yours."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." I add meekly.

Thankfully John switches topics. "So, why did you call me down? Another case?"

Hmmm, why indeed? My experiment now must be delayed. How to patch this up and perhaps launch the experiment later tonight? Let's see. Ah, yes, judging by the stubble on John's chin and the position of the sun outside the window it is 6:00pm. 6:00, food, dinner. Right, perfect.

"No, no case. What would you like for dinner?"

"Uh, I was thinking Chinese takeaway?"

"Ugh, takeaway? Takeaway is boring."

"Well, if we are going out, you'll need to put on some proper clothes –"

"Not going out, John. Just, what would you like to eat?"

"Hmm, well I have been thinking about shepards pie recently. "

"Okay"

"Okay?" he echoed looking skeptical.

"Well, I'll cook it, obviously."