I'm back. A little later than expected after repeatedly being surgically detached from my laptop. Although for anyone interested in muscle cars I highly recommend the event at Santa Pod, great fun.

I have huge thanks to all my lovely gorgeous reviewers. I never expected to have so many. And to Inwitari Turelie who emailed ff about getting this section started. This chapter is dedicated to you.

Finally because I forgot to do it last time the disclaimer for the story goes: Don't own Sherlock, no matter how much I would love to it isn't happening. *sobs*

Despite rather loud and passionate protests and arguments about how this was a rather bad idea John found himself dragged along. Perhaps it really wasn't too late to find a new flat mate. All Sherlock seemed to have done so far was make outlandish demands, blow up the kitchen multiple times, steal the duvet and sleep on him.

Although he had to admit that without it all his life would be rather boring. He was even getting used to just nodding when someone made an assumption that they were a couple. Sherlock seemed to find this very amusing even after a week of it happening. Apparently he was pleased that the plan was progressing, even if it did currently only consist of sharing a bed.

They even had a new rather large income from Mrs Hudson. Their landlady had agreed to spy on them, yes them and not just Sherlock (it appeared he had attracted a bit of attention). She got fifty percent of the amount and her two lodgers split the other half of it. She was even running through what she was going to pass on with them, it was all rather like a game. Sherlock had been quick to include the part about their budding relationship.

Mornings were still something he couldn't quite get used to, although at least the detective didn't wake him when he slunk into bed at some ungodly hour of the morning. He had decided finally that he was just acting as a huge breathing living teddy bear for a man that was nothing more than a child inside. A rather strange child with strange experiments, lots of mess and odd knowledge gaps. Seriously who over the age of ten didn't know the earth went around the sun and the man appeared to genuinely just not care.

"Where is my hair brush?"

He'd decided that acting as Sherlock's assistant was a job made up of either saving his arse from doing something stupid, chasing after him or finding the latest thing that he had lost. They'd lived there a week and it was already a tip, the kitchen was just a biohazard with all the chemicals and body parts lying about.

"Haven't seen it in days. Use mine."

The odd pause made him slightly suspicious. "I have been. Yours has gone missing too." Well, this was the man that insisted on sharing his bed and pretend to be in a relationship with him so he should expect no less.

"I'm going into town for some food later. I'll pick one up. You can tidy the kitchen."

He knew better than to expect a reply to that. The news had just started with a double murder headlining. It might keep the detective entertained but he wouldn't be doing anything useful for at least half an hour. Longer if the news was especially interesting.

With a sigh he headed out the door wishing Mrs Hudson a good morning.

ooo

John crashed through the door and up to his joint flat, phone still in hand and shopping bags flying behind him. His latest text from his house mate had better be important. He'd run all the way back from the mini mart and was not happy.

He was so exhausted it took him a minute to realise there was someone else there. Sat in his usual chair was a young pretty looking girl. It wasn't that that caught his attention but the ugly hand shaped bruise on her shoulders and the arm she was cradling.

"This your boyfriend then? The one that'll patch me up?"

The girl's speech was rather different from what her looks in short skirt and tank top suggested. Much rougher than he'd thought. There was a voice coming from the bathroom. "You're back John."

He appeared a few minutes later with an overly stuffed messenger bank and a set of files. "This is Jane. She's your first patient."

He wasn't really sure what to say. He was especially startled when Sherlock gave him a quick, almost hesitant, peck on the cheek. "I knew you'd get bored so I started up a private clinic in your name. Mycroft rushed it through and I've been arranging for patients."

Not for the first time he was made speechless by the detective. His own practice was something he'd vaguely dreamed about when he left the army he'd never thought it would happen.

"What about your investigations. I'll be tied to a timetable, have to keep regular hours."

His partner just grinned. "Not these patients. All needing medical treatment but unable to go to a hospital. I know you have morals so I've stuck to minor criminals."

The girl seemed to be finding this entire discussion highly amusing. "You're sweet as a couple. Never thought I'd see the day someone tied Sherlock down."

John turned back to the girl. He'd have to talk to the detective later but he couldn't deny that the girl was in need of medical attention. "Is it your arm that's worse? Is it swollen?"

She nodded, gingerly holding it out for him to examine. He could see instantly from the swelling and slight misalignment of bone that it was broken. "You could really do with a hospital."

The frightened almost frantic look in her eyes scared him a bit. It was Sherlock that cut in. "Jane is part of a rather discreet night time industry and would rather authorities weren't involved."

He must have looked confused because the girl felt the need to clarify. "I'm a prostitute is what he's trying not to say. Client was a bit rough and reluctant to pay." She seemed surprisingly cheery for someone who'd been attacked.

"I'll need to get you to an x-ray machine, and then I'll set your arm. I'd need some painkillers as well to give you."

His flatmate just patted him on the back being uncharacteristically touchy feely. "That's all sorted. I don't use my room so I've turned it in to a surgery. Everything you should need is there and I'll arrange for anything you find missing to be brought."

He fought the urge to smile. "Well we better get on then. This way Jane."

ooo

Later after he'd patched up Jane and sent her on her way. She'd been quite chatty and was going to recommend him to both her customers and colleges who lived slightly shady lives which left them with little option of health care.

"Why did you do this? Start the clinic. It's all legal isn't it? And where did all that stuff come from? There's most of a pharmacy in your room."

The detective grinned at him as he bounced around the living room. "I thought it would be obvious. You needed a job, you'll get bored doing nothing in between cases. Those that can pay will pay and those that can't will provide favours and information. It's surprising how many free meals you'll make."

John was rather startled. For a sociopath Sherlock was being rather considerate. "That and of course it'll help spread our contact so we'll be able to solve cases faster. You won't be tied down to a timetable so you can always accompany me." That sounded much more like Sherlock. "Plus it keeps up the image of our relationship?"

"Relationship? What are you talking about?"

The man looked rather perplexed. "It's Valentine's Day. Lovers usually exchange gifts, don't they?"

He blinked. Sherlock had given him a clinic...for Valentine 's Day. From the man's uncertainty he'd obviously never done this before, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever even had a partner fake or otherwise before.

In the end he nodded. "Although it is usually just chocolates instead of a clinic. Much more useful though. I'd forgotten about it, haven't gotten you anything."

Sherlock seemed to think for a minute. "How about you don't wake me up in the savage way you've come accustomed to tomorrow and I can play my violin when I'm thinking."

John nodded. That sounded rather reasonable, for once.

ooo

In the end it didn't quite work out like that. John may not have woken Sherlock up in his usual manner but with yells half an hour later after he'd attempted to make toast and discovered cocaine hidden in the toaster slots.

He also ended up regretting the violin after a few too many early morning recitals. But the clinic was going well.

What do you think? I'll attempt to tie in the second episode with my next chapter. Obviously there will be alterations made to get it to fit but I hope you'll enjoy.

Bit of a random question but where do you think Sherlock hides his drugs?