a/n: Make sure you read the latest chapter of "The Truth" in order to understand this chapter!
"LOL? Really, now. Nobody types L-O-L in all caps anymore, John. Same with O-M-G. And this took you how long to type? Four hours?"
John stared intently at the pen he was tapping on the desk in front of him. "Sherlock, I understand that maybe my fics aren't up to your impossible standards, but at least I tried. And for your information, I can't help it that I type so slowly."
"Yes, you can take a typing course. But that's not the point. The point is that all established fic writers have a beta who proofreads the work for stupid little errors like that. Nobody would believe that a young girl wrote that chapter!" Sherlock said condescendingly.
"You think throwing this ridiculous terminology around is going to help anything?" John asked angrily. "Well, it won't. And I know for a fact that beta readers aren't always necessary. Some of my favourite writers self-edit! There's nothing wrong with that!"
Sherlock stared at John. "We both know this isn't what we're actually arguing about, so why don't I mention that delicate topic you've tried so hard to avoid. I can tell by your painfully obvious secret message that you think Moriarty's lie was the truth. I can assure you this isn't the case. If I were in love with you, I would have no problem sitting here and looking you straight in the eye and saying, 'John Watson, I am in love with you.'"
"But you did just that," John pointed out.
"That seems to be the case. You aren't by any chance in love with me, are you?" Sherlock said, looking at John expectantly.
"Uh… no. Definitely not. Nope."
"Then this would be a good time to say I was completely joking."
An awkward silence fell as both of them looked away from each other.
Sherlock started speaking again, breaking the silence. "I mean, not that you're not loveable. Because you are. It's just that I think maybe I should write a fic about our actual life together? And maybe we could co-author it?"
"Smooth, real smooth, Sherlock," John mumbled. "But isn't that what we've been doing all along?"
"I guess that might be as close to the truth as we'll get. Well, except for that bothersome matter of Moriarty interfering with everything. The next update he posts will probably be from the things he's recorded just now," Sherlock said as he reached for the wall clock. He took it down from its place near the couch (it had been a gift from Mrs Hudson to cover up the marks on the wall from when Sherlock was 'bored') and opened the back of it, where the battery was located. He pulled out what seemed to be some kind of recording device.
"He's bugged the flat?" John asked incredulously.
"No, he's hacked into the system I set up," Sherlock replied. "This would explain how he managed to supposedly 'look in the windows'. I knew I should have taken this stuff down, but it never crossed my mind that they were still in working condition…"
"You set this up? Are there cameras and microphones in every room in this place?"
"Not in the loo. That would be psychopathic behaviour."
"So then, having this type of thing in all the other rooms in the flat is just high-functioning sociopathic behaviour?"
"Probably."
"Maybe I love you after all."
