Hello! Sorry, it's a short one, this chapter.

Hope you enjoy!


John sighed at his watch. He's not back yet. Why isn't he back yet? He would tell me if he was going to be away for a whole evening and night- John groaned irritably. He's been at it again. John left the flat, locking the door behind him. When he arrived at Sherlock's home from home, he checked the door. Unlocked. No-one had locked it last night?! He went into the private room, which was unlocked as well. 'Sherlock.' He looked at the mounds of sleeping, half-naked hookers, trying to find the detective. 'Sherlock, wake up.'

There was a grunt, and Sherlocks head emerged from the tangle of limbs. 'John?'

'Wakey-wakey. Don't disturb the others.'

'Yup, I know.' He blinked back into reality. 'What...what's...?'

'It's the 27th of July, 9:00am. You're name's Sherlock Holmes. I'm John Watson, the guy you live with.'

Sherlock paused. 'Okay. I remember, fine.' He raised his torso to stand up, and ended up falling out of bed. John rooted around on the floor, trying to find his friends clothes.

'How many this time?'

Sherlock counted vaguely. '...All of them.'

John looked up at him. 'All of them?!'

'That is what I just said.'

'Is that even possible?'

Sherlock got unsteadily to his feet. 'Apparently so. Why are you looking at me like that?'

'You're naked, Sherlock.'

'Am I? Oh, well, never mind.'

John threw Sherlocks underwear at him. 'I'm guessing this is yours. Like you'd care if it wasn't.'

Sherlock grunted. 'I'm not that much of a whore.'

John raised one eyebrow. 'Please.'

'What?'

'Exactly how many people did you shag last night?'

Sherlock hesitated, looking at the bundle of people. 'Um.'

'Tell me.'

'...Twenty? Twenty-five?' John laughed without humour. 'I've done worse!'

'Did you use protection?' Sherlock shuffled on the spot. John brushed a hand over his face. 'Sherlock...'

'I did, I did...maybe, I don't know. I don't really remember.'

'How can you forget these kind of things? You're still naked.'

The detective quickly shoved on his underwear. 'Happy now? Anyway, it's not like it's anything to do with you if I die from a disease or not.'

'It is, actually. Now get dressed, you arrogant bastard.'

Sherlock whistled, 'alright, mister angry. What's with the attitude?'

'No reason.'

Sherlock paused and then slowly started to smile. He glided over to his flat-mates side. 'Are you jealous, captain?'

John balled up his hands into fists. 'No.'

'Is that so?'

'Mm.'

'Right. Because it sounded to me like you're a bit...' He leaned into Johns ear, 'envious.'

John swallowed and looked away. 'I saw your shirt in the other room.' He felt Sherlock smile against his ear as he moved away, strolling out into the main room, leaving him slightly dazzled. A young woman in half a bikini with blue hair looked up at him from her sleeping position.

'You really fancy him, don'tcha?'

John looked at her, and then rolled his eyes. 'Shut up.' He left the room to join Sherlock. He found him in his trousers already, slipping on his shirt. 'You ready to go yet?'

'Yeah, nearly. If you could find me my shoes I'd be flattered.' John nodded and scanned the floor, whilst Sherlock continued talking. 'How did you know I would be here?'

'It's where I normally find you, besides St. Barts. Are these yours?' He held up a pair of shoes.

'Yup.' He took them from him and winced slightly. 'My back is killing me...and other parts of my body.'

'Great.' John leaned against the wall. 'So, it'll come out anyway-what happened last night?'

'Well, I got slightly drunk, shagged a guy...he was good...and then thought it would be a wonderful idea to go back into the main room and...um, offer myself to everyone in there.'

'Are you kidding me?! You know that everyone likes you here!'

'I forgot, okay? I got a bit full of myself.'

'I guessed. You idiot; no wander your back hurts.'

'And my ar-'

'I don't need to know.'

Sherlock slipped into his jacket, coat and scarf. 'Have I been summoned?'

'No.'

Sherlock stopped half-way through walking. 'No?'

'That's right.'

'Then why are you here?'

'Because you weren't in the flat this morning, so I knew where you'd be. I assumed you wouldn't want to be around when your rent boy or girl woke up, so I came to get you out of here.'

Sherlock blinked. 'That's...'

'Yeah, I know. I should've let you sleep in.'

'No, I'm...' Sherlock gave a genuine smile. 'Thank-you.'

'I'll let you sleep next time-' John blinked and looked at him. 'Wait, what?'

'Thank-you. It was incredibly thoughtful of you.'

'It's...It's okay.'

Sherlock walked past him, heading for the door. 'Come on John. Let's go home-I need to shave, I've got a bit of four o clock shadow.'

'Mr Holmes.' A voice said from behind them. Sherlock turned to see Dean Redd walking towards him. 'You're making a habit out of this.' He was twirling that riding-crop in his hand.

Sherlock smiled at him coyly. 'Thank-you.' He took it from him when Dean stood in front of him.

'Don't forget it again, or...' Dean pursed his lips and ran two fingers up and down Sherlocks lapel. '...you mind find yourself on the receiving end of it.'

Sherlock grinned. 'That would be a first.' He gripped onto the side of Dean's neck and pulled him closer for a long, messy kiss. John stared at the two of them, turning beet-red. He looked away before it became too much.

'We need to go.' He said quickly.

Sherlock tutted. He parted from him. 'So long, Dean.'

'See you around.'