Greg propped his head up in his left hand while he wrapped his right around the handle of his beer mug. He raised one eyebrow and looked steadily back at his mate.

He let the silence stretch on between them for a few more seconds before he finally said, "You know... I think it's possible that it's just Sherlock. Sure, he's a bloke, but there's no one else like him, is there?"

John exhaled slowly and responded with a sardonic smile, "No, there isn't."

"And thank God for that!"

Both men laughed heartily before the detective inspector became somber again. "But if you want my honest opinion, I think that it's more about who you have a connection with than what they are. In the end we're all just flesh and bone—what's it really matter if that person is male or female?"

John contemplated that for a moment, staring down into the foam in his lager.

Greg continued, "I had a friend once tell me to look at difficult situations like this: who could you willingly walk away from and who can't you? The person that you can't imagine living without is worth extra consideration..."

He paused here and waited for John to make eye contact with him before he said his final thought on the matter. "I think we know each other pretty well, yeah? You know that I don't pull any punches and I don't sugarcoat things. I didn't get this far at NSY by being oblivious—despite what your prat of a flatmate says. After his... incident... at Bart's, you were miserable, John. It broke my heart to see you going through this half-existence. I never saw you so happy as when he came back... I think that you need him as much as he needs you—that in itself says a lot."

"It's just... I don't know..."

"You do know that half the Met already thinks you two are together, right?"

"Yes, yes I'm fully aware of that."

"Then what's the hang up?"

John let out a frustrated sigh and rested his head on the back of the booth. His reply was directed at the ceiling. "What if I give in to these... let's face it—more than strictly platonic feelings I have for him—and after 'trying it out', he decides that it's not really what he wants after all?"

A fond smile played across the DI's face. "You don't see what I see—the looks he gives you when he thinks no one is watching. I'm confident in saying that you shouldn't worry about that. Sherlock is completely smitten with you. And if you want proof, he's never let anyone as far into his life as he has you—and let's be honest since we're on a roll here—Bart's... well... that was all about you mate. He so highly regards you that he willingly faked his own death to save you. Now me and you, we signed up for jobs that require us to make that ultimate sacrifice if necessary; but Sherlock... he's another story."

John mimicked Greg's pose and gazed across the scarred wooden table between them. "Oddly enough... it doesn't bother me anymore—the idea of being with a man, it's more or less the idea of being with Sherlock specifically. But you're right. I know he tries, especially with me. I just don't want to lose him—I'm not strong enough to go through that again."

Greg gave him a long, searching look before he asked, "I have some hard questions for you—you don't have to answer it if you don't want to. Just trying to help you figure this out."

"Okay," John replied with a hint of trepidation.

"Well, the most obvious part—Sherlock is a bloke… how do you feel about sex with a man? I'm assuming you'd want a proper relationship and all it entails with our mad genius."

"Ahh. Well… it, umm, it wouldn't be the first time…"

"Really? I have to say that I'm kinda surprised, given how much you enjoy the ladies. What was it your old army mate had called you? Three Continents Watson?"

With a huff of agitation, the doctor explained, "Yes, it's a rather unfortunate nickname. And yes, you know I'm a lady's man, but that doesn't mean I didn't experiment at uni. And on my first tour, females were few and far between, so…"

The Detective Inspector grinned. "Good on you mate! Never been with a man myself—was always too scared. But I guess in the middle of the desert you'd simply take what you can get."

"Yeah, something like that," John admitted with a laugh. "Though to be honest, I really just enjoy sex—being intimate with someone."

"But you're not gay… why the push-back when everyone makes assumptions about you and Sherlock then?"

"No, not gay. Maybe bi-curious, I could live with that. I just really hate others prying—it's none of their damn business. When people make that assumption, it's usually when we're in the middle of an investigation—it annoys me that they're being so unprofessional to worry about something so inconsequential to their own lives," the doctor said, staring down into his pint with a scowl.

"Hey—I get it," Greg empathized. "I don't disagree with you on that. Playing the devil's advocate though, how do you think it makes him feel when you're so adamant about denying it?"

John was silent for a long moment before he sighed heavily and replied, "I never actually thought about it before… you know— 'Mr. It's All Just Transport', never thought that it could just be front, that he'd hide his true feelings. God—I'm such an idiot!"

"I wouldn't be too hard on yourself."

"Greg, you don't get it—he's my best friend. I know him better than anyone on this planet and if I'm too short-sighted to consider his feelings, then where does that leave him?"

"Well, for one, Sherlock sure as hell doesn't make it easy, now does he?" the DI remarked with a snort as he brought his glass up to take a sip.

"That's for sure," John agreed readily and took a long drink from his own pint.

Something shifted on his friend's face, softening his expression before he asked, "Which brings me to my next question; do you love him?"

John sat back in against the seat and answered Lestrade, "I do. So help me, God—I love the crazy bastard more than life itself."

He surprised himself by the calm certainty and truth behind his words. It was the first time he had fully admitted to anyone, including himself.

Rue de la Pise

F-06360 Eze Village

France

18 July, 201-

Dear John,

I'm glad that you had a pleasant birthday—it sounds like quiet the day. I am not surprised, however, that you were able to assist Lestrade on a case. You know my methods and your skills and powers of deduction have grown exponentially in the last few years. I am very proud of you. Know that I am putting forth my best efforts to get better—I can promise you that.

I miss you as well, more than words can express.

Your excursion in Thailand sounds tame in comparison to Bill's—just drinks with the ladies? I was led to believe that you had quite the romp with them. I was unaware that you were into group sex like that, John. Is it truly possible to bed three women at once? How do they all gain satisfaction?

In your opinion, what is the classifying difference between being religious versus spiritual? I can appreciate the subtle nuances in the definition and contract of them both.

Did you spray your last letter with cologne?! Why is the page saturated with the unmistakable scent of Versace Eros? Am I a 13-year-old girl that you feel the need to woo?

John… the fact that I am a recovering addict is sign enough that I have glaring weakness. I think that yet again you do not give yourself enough credit for the impact you have made on my life. You, John Watson, are by far my biggest weakness. The one person who has remained faithfully steadfast at my side despite having no real return on the investment to which you've given me… I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude. I assure you that your personal thoughts are still your own as I am not a mind reader despite what others may think. You have a fairly expressive face and it is, occasionally, easy to deduce your line of thinking based on the degree of your raised eyebrow or the twitch of an eye, the quirk of your lip. I now can understand that might be exhausting for you—my sincerest apologies, it was never my intention to make you feel this way. My abilities are both a blessing and a curse at times. As you well know it hasn't gained me many true friends.

I'm sure that I would have liked your grandmother as well, based on the stories you've told me. Thank you—you know that I enjoy your company and that says something considering I cannot stand to be in most people's presence for extended periods. I believe you are the first person to tell me that you actually like spending time with me. Despite my uncomfortability with the sensitive nature of the things we've discussed—or because of it—is the reason I am willing to discuss them here in letter form with you. As I've said before, this forum is much easier to disclose sensitive subject matter. As much as I would like to say that we would have these conversations face to face, I know otherwise. I do feel the same, that having this tête-à-tête is good for us.

Gay, straight, bisexual—what does it really matter? They are all just labels in the end. But to directly answer your question, I find men more visually appealing and stimulating. If that makes me gay, so be it.

Three things: yes, you are an idiot—however I am quite fond of you. The chain reaction that ensued was by no means your fault. And… what if I want it to affect our friendship? I know you repeatedly claim to not be gay, but have you concluded that there are exceptions to every rule?

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Sherlock