Short chapter is short. I am not a very prolific writer, sorry.

So, two things are going on. First is that I got the job!

The second is that I'm playing around with the ending of this and wondering if I should expand it more, explore some things or ideas. Not sure yet, we'll see how I feel about it as I continue to post.

Anyways, happy reading!

"John."

The man, who was now no longer asleep, had been startled awake by his lacking-certain-niceties flatmate. As the name had left the taller man's lips, John had jumped in his sleep, sitting straight up, and reaching for a weapon under his pillow that he hadn't hidden there since being out in the Middle East.

"Christ, Sherlock." John put a hand on his chest, trying to slow his racing heart. At one point, he hadn't been particularly worried about heart attacks, but since moving in with the younger Holmes, he absolutely believed that his chance of having one had increased at an alarming rate. "What do you want?" It had come out sounding harsher than he intended, but he had just been woken up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night. He looked at Sherlock sitting on the edge of his bed down by the foot-board.

"Your answer." Clearing his adrenaline fogged mind, he had to think for a second about what Sherlock was saying. Sherlock wanted John's answer to the kiss question.

"You wanted to know my answer. In the middle of the night. When I was asleep. After a difficult day at the surgery, which I'm assuming you already knew somehow. Did it ever occur to you to maybe, I don't know, wait till I got up in the morning?"

"It is the morning." John glanced at his clock.

"Four A.M. doesn't count." He laid back down on his bed.

"Since you are awake now and the idea of me waiting till you had gotten up on your own is pointless now, what is your answer?"

"Is this really bugging you that much?" One look at Sherlock's face and John knew the answer to that particular question. "Maybe I'll just wait a little while longer and let it really get under your skin." He chuckled; it wasn't every day that John had something that he could hold over the definitely-cleverer man.

"Every observation that I have made is that you would like me to kiss you again. Is this true?"

"You'll just have to wait to find out." The doctor could not help himself. If Sherlock liked games, he would get one that would keep him busy till kingdom come. "Have you found our killer yet?"

"Yes, she was a member of the hens party last night. She's been at several along with general 'girl's nights out' over the past several weeks and doesn't particularly like gay men. In fact, she's homophobic and a member of the Anglican Mainstream. The fact that the killer was a woman made me miss it at first."

"But of course, you solved it. Congratulations." John rolled onto his side, away from Sherlock, hoping that he would get the message.

"Of course, I solved it. However, you are avoiding the question."

"No, I'm not. I'm just putting off answering it."

"But everything about you has answered it."

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't be here right now pestering me."

"I could make you answer." John rolled to face the other man. There was a strip of light from a street lamp that came in through the curtains on his window. John didn't know if it was by design or not, but the light laid perfectly over Sherlock's face. Having lived with the man long enough to recognize the more subtle moods in the detective, John saw that there was something behind the blank stare that he was currently getting.

It wasn't Sherlock's normal curiosity that desired an answer to a puzzle, nor was it the excitement of a puzzle. In his mind he had already figured it out, so there was nothing to be excited about. Therefore, what was left was a need. Sherlock needed to know the complete answer to a puzzle, not just his deduced one.

Despite Sherlock's need for an answer, he had just finished a case for Lestrade. The weather was taking a turn for the colder so fewer and fewer criminals would want to be out and about. Making Sherlock wait could be just the thing to get them through the lull with out this crazy flatmate shooting at walls or doing something else.

"Want to make a bet on that one? I do have an older sister."

"And I have an older brother, but what does that have anything to do with making a bet?"

"Never mind. What's your bet?"

"Bets are boring."

"Fine then, no bets, but you still won't get the answer out of me." John rolled again, away from Sherlock, and with every intention of going back to sleep as soon as possible.

"I almost got it out of you yesterday morning. What could have happened to make you not want to tell me now?" John smirked at the frustration in Sherlock's voice. "Oh, I see. You think it's funny that I want to know your answer."

"No, I think it's funny at how desperately you want to know the answer. I don't usually get anything to hold over you. Let me enjoy it for once, Sherlock."

After a silent moment passed between them, Sherlock finally asked,."Are you going to tell me or not?"

"Not." As the word came out of his mouth, the weight on the bed left. John suddenly had a sinking feeling in his stomach that he had made the wrong choice in playing games with Sherlock Holmes.