A/N- Sorry about this chapter, I was trying to get Sherlock's initials at the ends of his texts to be right under his messages, but nope! My kindle kept changing the stupid document around. So, sorry about that, it's just kind of attached at the end.

John stares at the text for a moment, almost certain he's imagining it. It may have been because it was around ten thirty at night and most people were asleep, or it may have just been how quick the text message had come back to him.

-Hey.

John types back, tossing it on his bed after with a tired sigh. He carries his laptop, setting it down on his lap. His phone pings again, and he takes a look.

-You already said that, John. -SH

-Am I not allowed to say hey again?

-You are, you're just being ridiculously redundant by repeating yourself. You've already said hey, and if you had taken a moment to think, you could've asked a question of my whereabouts or my current situation, which would have effectively moved this tedious conversation along. But no, we're talking about your repeated messages. For the sake of future conversations, John, please remember this. -SH

He smirks once he reads Sherlock's text. He has to admit, he expected a bit more from Sherlock, maybe even a whole lecture on 'proper texting etiquette', if there was such a thing. But...

- Well, John, are you going to continue this conversation, or have you decided that you would rather text Jeanette on that special 'thing' you two do? -SH

Okay, John didn't expect that.

- I almost forgot I'm talking to a guy who knows basically everything about me.

- How do you 'almost forget' something, John? -SH

- Shut up it's just a saying.

- Quite an odd saying. 'Almost forget'? It's like saying you're 'almost alive'. -SH

- I don't know how it's like that.

- Of course you don't, John. You don't know, but I do. -SH

- Okay, no need to be a self-conceded dick, Sherlock.

John returns his attention to his laptop, the bottom starting to get uncomfortably warm on his lap. He scrolls down the website, eyes skimming along the words and different articles, photographs of different recruits and the living areas. It's a few more minutes before Sherlock replies back.

- Sorry. -SH

It's unexpected, and when John reads it, he's thrown off. He never expected Sherlock would be one to apologize, even if it wasn't face to face. Suddenly, he feels guilty for having called him self- conceded.

- No, it's okay. I'm sorry.

- Why are you apologizing? -SH

- Because I am. :)

John stares at the screen, blinking. He isn't sure why he sent a smiley face, or why he didn't just say he felt guilty. Or why he feels strangely calm now, talking to Sherlock.

- There's an ulterior reason than 'you just am.' -SH

- Isn't there always?

John returns his attention back to his laptop, moving it to the side after he finally registers the heat burning him through his clothes. He moves the mouse, the screen lighting up, and he puts his phone down for a moment to actually look at the army website.

He clicks on a tab marked 'Join as a soldier', watching as the tab changes into a different one, more information popping up. He reads it, unconsciously picking up his phone when it pings again, holding it as his eyes skim the words.

As a soldier, you'll do a vital job, making sure the Army operates smoothly and effectively, at home and overseas.

It takes lots of different trades to run the Army, there are many jobs to choose from, all with training of the highest standard. Your hard work will be rewarded, because to us, you're more than an employee - you're a valued member of the Army family.

John scoffs at that, trying to imagine being in a family that valued him. Sure, Harry did that- Mostly because she used him a lot for his car and the small amount of money he got paid from his job- but never truly valued. His phone pings again, and he shuts his laptop so it doesn't overheat, looking at the messages.

- Sounds like you've been in that type of situation. -SH

- May I ask about it, or is it too delicate of a matter to touch upon? -SH

- You talk weird over the know that?

- Of course I know that. At least I'm spelling the words correctly. I'm better than most adolescents. Not saying 'you' as 'u', or overusing 'lol'. You know you've failed when someone sends you 'lol', because no one actually laughs out loud. It's just something to say when you've run out of options of how to move the conversation along. -SH

John smirks, proud of himself for the next message.

- Lol.

- Oh, I hate you John Watson. -SH

He laughs, putting down the phone, opening the computer again, and clicking on 'Get Started'. An online application filled with questions pops up, and he starts to type in the answers, muttering them under his breath as he goes along. "... Date of birth... Name..."

- You need to sleep. -SH

"...Gender... Phone..." John glances down at it, swiping the lock screen to open it up again to messages. He takes a moment to stare at it, unsure of how to respond. Fortunately, Sherlock sends another text before he can.

- It's getting to be eleven at night, and you have a 'surprise' test in Psych. Anderson thinks he'll have the upper hand on most of his students. He's an idiot. -SH

- How do you know that?

- That he's an idiot? Pretty simple, obviously. He tends to make mistakes when speaking, and he also tends to be repetitive in his teachings. Taught us the same lesson on different states of conciousness three times, the imbecile. Don't worry, the test tomorrow will be review for you, and maybe a few other average minded people. -SH

- You're lovely, you know that?

- I'm flattered, John. -SH

- Please don't be.

- Shut up and go to bed. You'll fall asleep in class if you stay up talking to me. -SH

- Never knew you cared about me.

- Stop talking and go to sleep. And the next time in the future, if you ever see me on the campus with two other people, instead of creepily staring at us from your posse of rugby jerks, come over. You're scaring Molly and Graham... Or Gertrude, whatever his name is. Lestrade. You're scaring them. -SH

- Okay, I will. Sorry about scaring them... How do you not know your friend's name?

John stares at his laptop screen. The application is filled out now, and he's staring at the 'Submit' button. Should he do it? Why was he doing it, in fact? Just because he might lose his flat? That was a petty reason, in all honesty.

- I don't have friends. I just have one.

SH

John has to ponder on that, wondering if Sherlock means him, or Molly, or the guy who's name he couldn't remember. Probably not him, and John found it hard to believe Sherlock considered him a friend, since they had only known each other for a few days, so it was most likely Molly he was talking about...

-See you at the coffee shop at four, John. Good night. -SH

He smiles. And he doesn't know why.

- Good night Sherlock.

John presses the 'Submit' button, taking a deep breath and shutting down his laptop.

- And thank you.