A/N: I feel bad for not uploading for so long. So you get two chapters tonight.


I was slightly worried about Steph's see you soon message. She had put a smiley face in the message and she hadn't called an yelled at me, so I'm assuming I'm not in trouble. But I'm still worried.

Since then I decided to blog about our cases. It's more fun than anything else I could think to write, and there's only so many times I can blog about the unmanned checkouts. We worked on the case I called The Blind Banker, too. It had been a while since I'd heard from Steph. Maybe she would just pretend I hadn't moved in with Mycroft's brother.

Oh, who am I kidding?


Sherlock was out doing god knows what. Probably annoying Molly, poor thing (Molly, not Sherlock). At least he wasn't here annoying me. He wasn't exploding eyes in the microwave or studying knife striations in polished wood or shooting holes in the bloody wall. I was beginning to think Mrs. Hudson's catchcry was "That'll come out of your rent, dearies".

When I heard the door downstairs open and close, then no footsteps on the stairs my first thought was oh good, Mrs Hudson is home then but she wasn't out, so maybe Sherlock is trying to sneak up on me. But Sherlock was better than that, if Sherlock was going to sneak up on me, he would do it so quietly I wouldn't have any hint at all.

I went over to the desk and pulled out my gun, then sat down in Sherlock's seat so I could face the door. When I heard the door start to squeak open I stood, crossed the room, and pointed my gun into the face of someone who could probably kill me a million different ways before I could pull the trigger.

"STEPH!" and then I dropped the gun and picked her up and swung her around.

"Whoa, hey there, Doc. I was going to ask if you missed me, but I guess I don't need to now."

I am quite horrified to say that I blushed at that. She gave me a cheeky grin.

"Don't worry," she said as she picked up my gun and put it back in the desk drawer that I had pulled it out from only moments ago, "I missed you, too."

And then I remembered. That I had elbowed my way into her life here at home. I had done it inadvertently, but I had not tried to get out either. I had met the man who took her in when her mother died, and moved in with that man's brother. What if she wanted me to leave, to get away from her life? How could I leave Sherlock? The man was my friend, well, as close to a friend as Sherlock could be. But Steph was my friend too. Would she make me chose? Or what if she didn't want me around? What if I couldn't have either of them? I started to panic and my breathing was shallow. I could hear ringing bells and my vision had dark splotches on it.

"Doc, sit down. Doc? Doc!" why was she so urgent? What was wrong? "John, can you hear me?" Of course I can hear you, you're yelling at me. "John sit down!" I did, and she shoved my head between my knees. "Breathe, John. Relax. It's ok. I'm not going to make you chose. I think it's funny that you're living with Sherlock. Keep breathing, that's the way!"

I sat up slowly after my vision cleared. Blushing and hyperventilating within minutes. She must think I'm the most pathetic man in the world.

"I don't think you're pathetic, John. It's a good thing, in a bad way. It means that you care about me and you care about Sherlock."

"You called me John."

"Excuse me?"

"You called me John. That's the first time you called me by my first name."

She laughed her boisterous laugh, and I found a part of me relaxing. She didn't mind that I had pushed my way into her life. Her laugh started to slow.

"Of all the things you could have asked, all the things you could have said, you point out that I called you by your name?"

"You always call me Doc!"

"Well you weren't answering to Doc, were you?" she laughed again, "You know, Mycroft told me about Sherlock's new flatmate. He told me he was unusual, that he didn't react in the way most people did to Sherlock. I see what he means now. You ignore all the quirks and take him for what he is. I hope I'm not being too presumptuous, and I didn't tell Mycroft this, but I'm pretty sure that's because you are used to me."

It was my turn to laugh. "You know, you're probably right. If it wasn't for me being used to you just knowing things, you seeing things, I would probably have left by now." I frowned, "But he sees so much more than you did, and it worries me sometimes. He looks at me and it's like I have no secrets."

"He doesn't see more than me," she sighed, "and you have some secrets. He likes to think he's a sociopath, and he has cultivated that persona. He doesn't have that little voice in his head that tells him not to say the things he sees and he doesn't have the social skills to understand why not to say it anyway.

"I see everything he sees, and I can deduce the things he can. I just don't feel the need to say them out loud. It makes things awkward and I like to think I'm above Mycroft and Sherlock's petty rivalry."

I was shocked at her admission. I had been acting on the basis that Sherlock was better at deduction than Steph, not that they were as good as each other and she just had more tact. But as I thought about it, it started to make more sense. Something was still bothering me though.

"I have secrets from Sherlock?"

"Of course. Mycroft, too. After all, they don't know you know me do they? If you don't mind can we keep it that way? A little experiment of my own."

"What kind of experiment?" I had grown wary, and I wasn't entirely sure that Mycroft didn't know already, Sherlock did say that he WAS the government.

"I want to...You see Mycroft...They don't...ugh!" she began pacing. "Mycroft doesn't know about my exact postings. I didn't see why he needed to, he shouldn't get special privileges, so he doesn't know that I served with you.

"And he hardly notices I'm alive when I'm home. Since I won't work at MI6 anymore he doesn't seem to care. On one hand I'm scared to ask him if he doesn't care at all, scared of the answer he'll give me, scared that he'll tell me to leave. On the other I'm scared of not knowing, I can't tell myself. So I'm doing what he's taught me all my life, I'm using some ingenuity."

"And I get to fool Sherlock?" the idea that Mycroft hurt Steph this way made me angry, but the idea of beating Sherlock at his own game was exciting.

"Of course. All that you would have to do is act casually towards me if either or both of them are around. Don't pretend you don't know me, but don't act as if you do. For example, I know that Mycroft plans to come around here later, I'll come too. Don't introduce yourself to me the way you normally would, but just smile at me. If they notice then good, and if they don't well we can just plan it from there."


Steph left minutes before Sherlock got home. He went back to sulking on the couch and I went out to get milk. When I got back Mycroft was waiting. He wanted Sherlock to get back some missile plans, the Bruce-Partington plans. I smiled at Steph who was sitting on the sofa, and went over to sit beside her. Neither brother noticed. I swear when they left I saw a tear run down her cheek. Sherlock didn't give me time to think about it. Lestrade needed him, and he needed me.


After the hell the Holmes brothers had put me through the last two days I figured I deserved a night off. I told Sherlock I was going to Sarah's, then text Steph asking her to meet me somewhere. As I walked down the street I felt something sharp prick my neck and I reached up and pulled a tranquiliser dart out of my neck. Bugger.


Up next. My take on the ending of The Great Game.