Ok, so this chapter is ginormous. But all of it is necessary! So please bear with me here. Also, please tell me if you have any problems with it or anything, but before doing so, please read the notes. I would once again like to thank everyone who is reading this and/or following and reviewing. Your help is much appreciated and keeps me going.

Note: I own nothing! I literally just sang that to myself. Go ahead and laugh at me, you know you want to.

WARNING: We're going to get a little explicit up in here. Well, sort of. Kind of. A little, but not really. Ok, never mind, now thinking about it, it is pretty bad. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Chapter 10: Stalkers, Kissing, and Pickpockets (Oh My!)

John

John walked into the room to find Sherlock and Mycroft in a very heated conversation. One might even call it a row. "Ah, John, glad you are here. Please tell me that you will make my brother see sense."

"Mycroft, I can't do any such thing, even if I wanted to. What were you guys… talking about?"

"Glad you asked. I was telling Sherlock about a case he had already agreed to do. Maybe if I go over the facts one more time that will change his mind." Sherlock just glared at Mycroft, plucking the strings of a… violin?

"Okay… so, tell me about the case." John gave Sherlock a glance that let him know that they were going to talk about the violin later. He acknowledged the glance with an almost imperceivable nod.

"There is a woman of certain… significance to our country who has recently picked up a stalker- cum- blackmailer. She is very worried. So she wrote to me to have me look into it. Brother mine, you know how much I detest footwork. Please take the case. I promise to pay you all the money I receive for the case. You then also get to try out some of those disguises I know you have been dying to try."

"Mycroft, I am in a wheelchair. There are only eleven good disguises when limited to using a wheelchair1. Also, this case doesn't require any actual footwork and you know it. So why are you passing this case off to me?"

"Well, as… umm… a sort of apology."

"For what?" Sherlock asked, clearly annoyed and trying to return the favor by plucking random strings on the violin.

"Because… well… Sherlock, would you please stop making that terrible racket! I understand that you are annoyed with me for wasting your 'precious time' (He said those words in the most perfect Sherlock impression. Sherlock made a strange face at him and John had to hold back his laughter.). I… I knew what was going to happen between you and Moriarty, but I got the timing wrong. I was going to call 999 once I knew for sure but… I am so sorry, little brother."

Sherlock just kept an expression- free face and started to wax his violin strings before saying, "I already knew. Also, you were wrong. I did already know how high you were in the British government. I was the one who sent that letter. Not the others, only that one. And now, brother dear, you are even higher ranked. What, are you aiming to become the British government2? Oh, don't look so surprised. You are five years older than me and I am only three years behind in education even though you graduated from Uni three years early. Of course I found out."

John just looked back and forth between them. "So… are we taking the case or not?"

"Of course we are taking the case, john, don't be silly. Stalker blackmailer double- whammy as a first case? What more could a boy ask for?" Sherlock was clearly excited as his whole body flushed and he had started to spin in circles in his wheelchair.

"Good. Then I will go and let her know. You can expect me to come by in a few days. You should have figured it all out by then.

Once Mycroft left, Sherlock swung around and said, "Before you ask, John, yes, I have been able to play the violin since I was four. Now, Mycroft says we have a few days, but I say we go and scope out the house now."

"But, Sherlock, the headmistress will notice if we are missing. And people on the streets will remember us if we keep showing up in front of the same house."

"Mrs. Hudson can cover for us, John. And there is a simple thing called a disguise to solve your other concern. Let's go. Please," Sherlock pleaded with an excellent pouty face. John was taken aback. Never in the eight years that he had known Sherlock had he ever said please. It would also give him time to spend with Sherlock, soaking in some of his vast knowledge. John had skipped a grade or two, but he was nowhere near as smart as Sherlock Holmes3. So it was a no- brainer that he say yes. So he did.

"Oh all right, I guess that we can take the case. But you are doing my homework for a month. And I also get a kiss.

Sherlock casually glanced over at him. "A kiss?"

"Yes, a kiss," John replied, gaining courage, "On the lips."

"Deal," Sherlock said with a triumphant smile, "Now. Come over here."

"Wh-Why?" John queried nervously. He didn't know why he was so nervous; it wasn't as if he hadn't already seen most of Sherlock. He had been helping him get dressed and undressed since he couldn't really do it himself with a cast on leg and a brace on the other. He also helped him shower. But he didn't look at him. That would be rude.

"For a kiss. A kiss I've wanted for a very long time. Come on, John! Don't look so shocked. I could have easily asked Mrs. Hudson to help me get dressed and shower; that is what she is here for! But I wanted you to do it, hoping it might initiate something. But no, you had to go and be the good little boy. Come. Over. Here. Now." He said the last bit with a barely- contained need coloring his voice.

John slowly made his way over and carefully helped Sherlock get into his bed to help make their kiss less difficult. After making sure Sherlock was situated, John sat down next to Sherlock and turned to face him. And Sherlock turned to face John. Their lips slowly grew closer, as if both of them were tentative of making first contact. So John gathered his strength and planted his lips firmly against Sherlock's. His lips were hard, yet soft at the same time. John moaned and Sherlock took advantage of his open mouth to thrust his tongue against John's. john was most definitely surprised, but went with it. When they both finally came up for air, John was panting heavily and Sherlock's face was so red it was almost magenta.

"Wow, I just asked for a kiss, expecting a peck on the mouth. But no, this is Sherlock Holmes who always does things all the way or not at all."

"Speaking of all the way or not at all, I forgot to mention that the headmistress pulled me out of all of my classes for the semester."

"What!? Why?!"

"She feels that I need to recover before going back to school. But it gives me more time to work on the case, which is a plus. Now, do you want another kiss?"

"Oh God, yes."

~o~

After a long make- out session, Sherlock got out all of his disguises. "We're going to have to make yours extra convincing, John, that way they don't suspect me," he said while pursing his lips, "Luckily, I have the perfect disguise pairing." John did not like the sound of that.

An hour later a crippled old man in a wheelchair and a teenage boy were begging for spare change on the corner of Hayes Place. They both wore filthy, ragged clothes and the old man wore an eye- patch and a scarf around his mouth on account of his whooping cough. After a particularly lengthy spell of racking coughs, the apparent grandson leaned over his grandfather and asked him what was wrong.

"You need to look for anyone out of the ordinary, John. Anyone meandering for a particularly long period of time, taking pictures of the client's building, or anyone else you see multiple times. You have to find a way to tell me, too," Sherlock got out between fake coughing spells.

"Sherlock, we already went over all of this back in the room. I have a tapping code, remember?"

"Oh course I remember," Sherlock snapped, "I was worried that you had forgotten, that's all."

They didn't talk to each other for a few hours, just begged for food or money and kept an eye out for suspicious or unsavory characters. After being outside for five hours, Sherlock roused a dozing John saying, "John, wake up. I got a suspect."

"Hmm, where?

Sherlock pointed without extending his arm. "Right over there. He has been by seven times in two hours. He also has a camera that he clearly has not used once in that time frame, on account of the fact that our client is not home at the moment."

"Ok, so contact whoever you have to contact and get him into handcuffs."

"What, no! John, I… we, do not have any evidence yet. How good is your pickpocket?"

"I'm ok at it, I guess. Why?"

"Well, I'm in a wheelchair and thus easily memorable. But you… you, John, could easily pickpocket this man and he wouldn't even notice."

"O-kay. What do you want me to pickpocket off of him?"

"Anything you can. This should be good practice for you. Maybe this way you will also start to notice when I pickpocket you," Sherlock said, swinging John's father's dog tag necklace in front of his face.

"Y-You fucking bastard," John snarled, snatching the dog tag out of Sherlock's fingers. That was probably why he wanted to continue kissing him, to see how good his pickpocketing skills were. And it wasn't in his pocket, but on his bloody neck! "You know how much this means to me. This was the only thing they were able to salvage of either of them after the explosion.4"

Sherlock's face actually looked sorrowful. "I am sorry, John. I really and truly am. But it was the only way I could think of to show you just how much you have let your pickpocketing skills slip over the years without you punching me in the face."

"Oh, don't you worry your beautiful head, Sherlock, I will collect that punch one day," John growled, then sighed saying, "Alright, fine. I will go pickpocket him. But don't you ever say that my skills are slipping. In fact, look, I got a little memento from our first kiss, too," John smirked and wagged a condom around, "Really, Sherlock? Did you really think I was going to let you fuck me after our first kiss?"

"I was sort of hoping so. But I was going to be fucking you, you were going to be fucking me." John turned bright red and quickly walked towards the target. He could hear Sherlock chuckling behind him.

"Bastard," he muttered to himself, then forced himself to focus on the task at hand. The scanned the man from a few feet away, identifying objects in his pockets and considering his best course of action. A wallet in his right pocket, a folded- up piece of paper in the left. Well, there was only one good choice, and that was the right pocket. But how to do it? Go up and kiss him? While that might work with Sherlock, John was pretty certain it wouldn't work in this instance. Engage in conversation? Accidently bump into him? Yes, that was it. John strode forward with purpose, practically rushing down the street, a pile of spare change in his left hand. And he ran straight into the target. The change flew into the air and scattered all over the place. "Oh dear! I'm so sorry, mate, I am in a terrible rush!" The target started picking up the change. While he was bent over, John quickly got the man's wallet and stashed it in his coat pocket before picking up some of the other loose coins and starting to run, shouting over his shoulder, "You know what, mate, you keep the rest of it." John ran around the corner and zig- zagged down a few more streets until he reached the meeting place he and Sherlock had agreed upon. Once there, he handed the wallet over to Sherlock and they walked back to school. After they quickly removing their makeup and disguises, John and Sherlock both instantly fell asleep.

When John got back to the room after his classes the next day, he wasn't surprised to see Sherlock playing Eine Kleinne Nacht Musik5. He quickly put down the violin and said, "Robert Fullton."

"What?" John said, very confused about what was going on.

"Robert Fullton. He is our client's stalker cum blackmailer. Born in Yorkshire; 31; professional photographer, but not making much money; lives close to our client's house; wears cheap clothes, but they are new; has a thing for cheese; and is OCD paired with anti- social personality disorder6, which makes him easier to follow but harder to find evidence condemning him," Sherlock said in his usual deduction voice: rapid- fire, poised, and full- of- himself.

John just hummed in acknowledgement, knowing full well that Sherlock would tell him how he figured all of it out if he asked him how or didn't. Sherlock sat there for a few minutes, waiting. When John didn't ask him the question, Sherlock just went on as if he hadn't paused, "I know his name and age from his driver's license, and that he was born in Yorkshire by his faint Yorkshire accent when he made a call on the pay phone down the street. Professional photographer by the quality of his camera but could tell that he is not making much money by the high usage of the camera, brand- new cheap clothes (which I could identify as such by the quality and brand- names), and of course because he has resorted to blackmail to pay this month's rent. He has to live nearby because he has walked to our client's house, you can tell by the wearing on the soles of his shoes, and he doesn't want to have to go far to pick up his cash. In his wallet, there is a business card for a small cheese shop most people don't know about. It is only open to cheese connoisseurs. OCD by how perfectly outlaid everything was in his wallet, every note is straight and in the same direction, everything perfectly perfect. He also took exactly three steps per section of pavement with every piece of pavement, suggesting OCD as well."

John couldn't resist. "How did you know about the anti- social personality disorder?"

"Hmmm… oh. I didn't really need deductions for that one. Once I knew the name, I searched through my mind palace and came across some useful information. He once went to school here so that someone could keep an eye on him. Supposedly, he was caught skinning animals alive on multiple occasions. They diagnosed him with anti- social personality disorder here at Saint Dymphnas."

John looked at Sherlock with awe. "But how did you learn that?"

"I went through all the old files within my first month here."

"Oh." John was a little disappointed now. He had expected it to be much grander of an explanation. "So… have you called Mycroft yet?"

"I have. He is coming by in a little bit."

"Oh… well, I have to go study for my history exam tomorrow."

"Okay. It's just that… I envisioned you standing next to me when I told Mycroft who did it and the proof I have that he did it."

"But Sherlock, you don't really have any proof."

"I didn't tell you? (John shook his head no) Must have slipped my mind. I just went by our client's house once you left for class, and low and behold I see Mr. Fullton meandering down the street. And what does he have in his pocket but a new blackmail letter to leave in our client's mailbox. Since I expected he might do such a thing today to keep with his consistent routine, I had an extra letter just in case. I wheeled up and took the blackmail letter, replacing it with a nice little letter to our client from me saying that I had identified her blackmailer and politely asked her to come here this evening," Sherlock concluded, with the letter now in his left hand like a plate on a waiter's hand.

At that moment Mycroft waltzed in and plucked the letter off of Sherlock's outstretched hand. "Thank you, brother mine. No need to explain, I overheard your whole conversation with John. Good work, Sherlock7." And with that he was gone.

John just opened his mouth, not saying anything for a few seconds, and then blurted out, "Can you help me study for this exam?"

"Sure, I don't see why not. I don't have anything better to do at the moment."

John and Sherlock's lives changed that a little bit that day. From that time on, they began to be known ad=s detectives. More specifically, "The Consulting Detective Duo." John started to write about all of the cases that he and Sherlock worked on, typing it all up on an old World War Two typewriter. "Why can't you just use a computer like a normal person?" Sherlock complained.

"Because a typewriter gives the writing more character, more depth." Then Sherlock would just huff and go to his mind palace for hours.

And so this new life progressed for John and Sherlock and marked the beginning of a budding romance.

Notes:

1: Ok, truth time. I totally made up the thing about the eleven disguises. I don't know how many you could actually make with a wheelchair.

2: I thought that it would be funny if Sherlock asked Mycroft if he was trying to become the British government and then he does. So… yeah.

3. Just to clarify: John is three years ahead in school, so he is a fourth year in secondary school (a senior in high school for all of my fellow Americans). Sherlock is six years ahead in school, and is a third year in tertiary school, otherwise known as Uni (a junior in college). So… hope that clarified things.

4: The significance of the dog tag and the explosion and who "them" is will be further explained in the next chapter.

5: Amazing song, which you probably know. Look it up and you will instantly recognize it.

6: Anti- social personality disorder (ASPD) is what is usually referred to as being a psychopath or sociopath. But according to the Fifth Edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, or DSM-5, psychopathy and sociopathy are no longer considered mental disorders. There is only ASPD

7: I felt that Mycroft had to be nice for once.

Ok, this chapter may seem like a sudden game changer. But I am here to tell you it most certainly is not. This may seem faster than Sherlock's usual pace of things, but I am telling you that Sherlock has felt this way about John for four years now. And this is the first move he has made. Please keep that in mind while reviewing. While on the topic of games, I have recently published a new story called The Games, which is about well, the Olympics (which I am loving this year, just in case you wanted to know). Also, the next chapter will be extra feelsy. Brace yourself. But it might be a while, so don't brace yourself too hard.