Sorry that this chapter took me so long _ I just want to thank everyone who is still alerted to this story (: and I really appreciate everyone that favourited and reviewed this story 8D It really means a lot ^_^


It had taken John until that evening before his mind strayed back to the recorder that he had safely secured in his bed side table.

The recorder that Anderson had inadvertently (his intentions had yet to be determined) given him that night along with the jacket.

John had contemplated broaching the subject to Sherlock, but the one time the conversation had strayed in that direction, Sherlock had muttered something inane and had taken off out of the room without so much as a backwards glance.

Besides, at present Sherlock had locked himself in the bathroom and (if the slight hisses and curses where anything to go by) was completing a series of experiments, and probably wouldn't be emerging for several more hours to come.

It took a lot of deliberating, but eventually John decided that he couldn't let the problem mull over in his head for a moment longer and he'd left the flat with a slight call of "going out for a bit,".

It struck John, as the taxi pulled up to the station, that without Sherlock it may not be quite so simple to access the station as it usually was, but it wasn't as if he knew where-else Anderson may be and, for reasons he couldn't quite fathom, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was important somehow.

As it was, those he passed just seemed relieved that the tall dark-haired detective wasn't accompanying him and completely looked past the fact that he had no reason to be there.

Admittedly, the entrance of the station was in constant flow of hysterical people (who John presumed to be victims of crimes) and visitors, and John was well and truly camouflaged amongst them, so it wasn't much of an achievement.

Although, this did become more problematic as he slipped into the section of the station were the offices resided but then, even there, he had become such a familiar face that no-body seemed to question his presence, for which he was grateful (and perhaps slightly concerned for the safety of London, if the station was so easy to infiltrate.).

It only occurred to John as he rounded the corner of the hallway that led to Lestrade's office, that he had no idea where Anderson would be; after all, he was a forensics' worker, if he had an office it may very well be at a completely different section of the station.

As luck would have it however, no sooner had this thought crossed John's mind did he spot Anderson standing leaning over a desk where Donovan was sat.

Her eyebrow was raised as she regarded the man looming over her, and it appeared like they were engaged in a heated argument which John was hesitant to interrupt.

As he approached the pair however, they promptly broke off, Donovan's features immediately shifting into a more pleasant expression, which was accompanied by a slight smile upon the realisation that John had come alone.

Anderson looked just as angry as he had been before, only now that glare was directed in John's direction and, not for the first time, John was second guessing his decision to come.

"Can I speak to you for a minute Anderson?" John requested, stumbling around the last word as he tried to search for the man's first name somewhere in his memory but finding nothing.

Anderson shrugged at the inquisitive look Donovan shot at him, "alone?" Anderson asked, now eyeing John warily as if this might be some kind of elaborate ploy from Sherlock to have him murdered.

"If you wouldn't mind, yeah." John affirmed, watching as Anderson shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as he thought it over.

"Yeah, okay." Anderson agreed eventually, inclining his head towards the hallway John had just left as a suggestion for where they could talk.

Allowing Anderson to lead the way, John nodded briskly at Donovan before following the forensics officer.

"What's this about?" Anderson asked, leaning gently against the hallway wall as he waited for John to get on with what he wanted to talk about.

"It's about the jacket that you gave me to give to Sherlock." John said, not wanting to beat around the bush with small talk with a man he'd rather not spend a second too long with.

The corners of Anderson's mouth tugged upwards into a small smile, dispelling any notion that Anderson had been ignorant to the recorder that had been tucked into the jacket pocket, and John couldn't help the frown that had settled upon his face.

"ah, that's what this is about." Anderson seemed wholly more interested in the conversation now, and had even leant forward so as to hear John better, "probably glad I told you then, huh? Have you moved out already?"

John paused to take in Anderson's words, his head shaking in disbelief, but Anderson appeared not to notice, his eyes already glazing over (no doubt as he fantasised about a heart-broken Sherlock, that may well lead to a Sherlock free crime-scene). "Where did you get it? The recording?"

Anderson frowned at the question, momentarily shaken out of his day dream "hmm?"

"Did you record it or what?" John repeated.

"Oh no, took it from Donovan-" Anderson looked like he was going to continue, but John was already taking off around the corner back towards Donovan's open desk, and so he merely followed behind him.

"Really?" John said as he approached the woman, "do you really hate him that much, that you could do something that cruel?" John shook his head "I'd expect that kind of thing from Anderson, but you? Really?"

Donovan looked momentarily confused, until a look of realisation dawned across her face, "What, how did you find out about that? Did he tell you?"

John scowled at the woman "Of course not, I mean, giving it to Anderson to give to me?…regardless of how it turned out, that is crossing a line."

Donovan was already looking over John's shoulder with her eyes narrowed "you stole from me?"

Anderson looked startled by the sudden anger directed at him, but made no further comment; instead, he shirked backwards under her glare.

They stood like that for a few moments; John acting like a barrier between Anderson and Donovan, before a smile tugged at Donovan's lips as her eyes flickered across his face.

"Wait...'regardless of how it turned out'? does that mean?"

Despite himself, John could feel his cheeks burn a hot red, and from behind him John could hear Anderson splutter.

"Wha-?" Anderson began, sounding scandalised as he processed the situation, but he was cut off by another voice that had joined the conversation.

"Does that mean what?" Lestrade's voice asked from somewhere behind them.

"I think the freak and John are shagging." Donovan replied, her voice slightly raised at the end of the sentence almost as if it was a question as well as a statement.

"Oh, I knew about that." Lestrade said, as another voice exclaimed in annoyance;

"hey, you never told me.." John span on his heel to see Lestrade approaching flanked with two other inspectors that John recognised as Gregson and Dimmock "Pay up," Gregson had turned to face the other two inspectors with his hand outstretched.

Reluctantly, Dimmock fished about in his pocket and produced a wad of notes that he then placed in Gregson' upturned palm. Lestrade followed suit, his frown somewhat outweighed by the smirk tugging at his lips at the sight of Anderson who was still stood wide-eyed by Donovan's desk.

"And you," Gregson prompted, his hand now pointed in the direction of Anderson who (after recollecting his composure) also produced a small pile of coins from his pocket.

Gregson looked infuriatingly smug as he winked at John (who was still eyeing the entourage with a mixture of bemusement and disbelief) until Donovan whisked away the collection of money that he had accumulated with a brief "thank you,"

Gregson scowled at Donovan, before nodding in defeat and muttering "yeah, I know." Gregson then took off back towards the hallway he had just left, his hand clasping around Dimmock's wrist to tug the smaller man along with him "see you at the pub tonight Greg," he called back over his shoulder, before disappearing around the corner.

"You alright?" Greg asked clapping a hand against John's shoulder, who still looked slightly confused by the whole exchange of money.

"Yeah, just…don't tell Sherlock that you've been bartering about his love life, he'll be furious if he knows Sally won."

"Love life eh?" Lestrade grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at John before a slight nudge into his side from Sally's elbow stopped him. "don't worry about it lover-boy."