A/N: So sorry it's taking me so long to update. My school schedule is crazy busy. Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up by the end of this weekend. Please review. It makes me happy!

Enjoy!

John and I spent the next two days either having sex or resting in between rounds of sex. It was extremely pleasant except for the experiment with hot wax that left John with slightly less chest hair and a few minor burns. Mrs. Hudson walked in on us twice. Fortunately, I managed to cover myself before she noticed anything out of place. Both times, John turned bright red, doing nothing but spluttering for twenty minutes. It really put me off. Needless to say, John made sure the door was locked.

It was late evening on the second day, and John and I were sitting in the living room quietly after a rather intense round of kitchen sex that resulted in a few broken test tubes. I was sprawled on the sofa, my dressing gown draped across my body with nothing underneath. John was sitting in his armchair typing slowly on his laptop. He was wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms. I licked my lips lightly; John had a focused look on his face. His eyes crinkled a little, and the corners of his mouth were turned down. My eyes traced the line of his shoulders. I loved the way that they were toned with a soft edge; following me around London had definitely kept him in shape. My gaze moved down to his chest. There were red spots that were missing hair. I smiled to myself; it looked slightly ridiculous.

I had just gotten off the couch to initiate sex with John, perhaps on the stairs this time, when there was a knock on the door. I groaned. John looked at the door, then at me. He smirked when he saw the disappointed look on my face.

"Later," he promised. I groaned again, frustrated. I wrapped my dressing gown loosely around myself and crossed my arms across my chest as I went to open the door.

"Yes?" I asked harshly. Lestrade was at the door.

"Sherlock!" John said sharply.

"Come in," I mumbled sarcastically, turning and walking away from the door. I glanced over at John. He had slipped on a dressing gown. I stuck my tongue out at him as I sat down in my armchair; he just smirked at me. Lestrade cleared his throat awkwardly before sitting down on the sofa.

"Tea?" John asked.

"Yeah, please."

"Obviously you're here about a case," I stated.

"Yeah, it's another one of those killings. This one was found outside a club called V.I.P. Another pole dancer. Same position, same cause of death." He leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

I jumped up excitedly and went into my room to change. Fortunately, Lestrade had been too distracted by to case to pay attention to me. I was getting far too careless with my disguise, especially around him and Mrs. Hudson. I quickly bound my breasts and put my shirt on. Perhaps it would be wisest to tell them. It would make my interactions with them more efficient if I didn't always have to make sure my facade was in place. The incident with the sheet a few years back was a perfect example. I had been completely at Mycroft's mercy. I slipped my suit and shoes on and walked back into the living room.

John and Lestrade were drinking tea, chatting about rugby. I sat down in my chair, a cup of tea waiting on the table. "Are you coming, John?" I asked over my cup.

"Of course," he said looking confused.

"Well, perhaps you should get dressed."

"Be patient, Sherlock," he admonished. "The body's not going anywhere." He went into my room and came back out a few moments later with his shoes and coat before heading up to his room. I looked over at Lestrade. There was a look of disbelief on his face.

"What?" I asked.

"You-he-I thought-"

"I would appreciate it if you would speak in complete sentences, Lestrade. Did you not hear what John said the other day? He was completely serious."

"Yes, but I-well, hell. I thought he was joking. I mean, it's completely fine. I just didn't expect you or John were, um...I mean I guess it kind of makes sense. You know-"

I put my hand up. His blabbering was irritating me. Fortunately, John came in just then.

"I'm ready," he said looking from me to Lestrade. "Um, is something wrong?"

I stood and put on my coat. "Lestrade is having a panic attack because he thought you were joking when you implied that we were in a relationship the other day."

"Ah," John said starting to blush. I huffed; I swear, the man could do nothing else. "It's, uh, it's true. Sherlock and I are together."

Lestrade had finally collected himself. "Well, I'm happy for you two." He shook John's hand.

"If only Mycroft would be as considerate," John joked. Lestrade's jaw clenched and his face turned red. I scanned him, trying to make sense of his behavior. He was embarrassed about something.

"Well, come on," Lestrade said. "We should get going." He was trying to deflect attention away from himself. I went over the conversation. I-of course.

"How long?" I asked.

John frowned at me. "How long what?"

I ignored him. "How long, Detective Inspector?" I growled somewhat menacingly.

"I don't know what you're-"

"Don't try that with me. You know it doesn't work. How long?" John was looking from me to Lestrade so quickly that I was sure he was going to strain his neck.

Lestrade sighed. "Almost two years."

"Two years! How is that possible. How did I not notice it?"

"Well, if you remember, you weren't here two years ago!"

"Yes, but I've been back for more than six months! How did you hide it from me?"

"I've had a long time to practice!"

John stepped between us. "Would you two stop shouting?" I hadn't realized that we were. "Okay, now one of you is going to explain what the hell the two of you are talking about."

"Lestrade is having sex with Mycroft," I volunteered immediately. "They have been in a relationship for two years apparently."

John's mouth gaped open. I reached over and pushed it shut. He shook his head. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," I replied. A feeling of dread suddenly hit me. I didn't know how much Lestrade knew. "What's he told you?"

"What do you mean? Lestrade asked, looking puzzled. His confusion was genuine.

"Nevermind. It doesn't matter." I glanced at John. He had a gleeful look on his face. "What?" I asked him.

"I have something against Mycroft next time he comes threatening me." I smiled at him.

Lestrade sighed, running his hand over his face. "The three of you are going to be the death of me, I swear."

"Come on," I said. "There's a body to see." I grabbed my scarf and started down the stairs. I heard Lestrade sigh again before he and John followed.

This body was the same as the last two. I was unable to find any new leads. John and I left the scene and got a taxi. I gave the driver directions to a dance studio on the other side of Vauxhall.

"Where're we going?" John asked.

"We need to check out the dance studios in the area. We need to see if there's anything connecting one of the studios to the bodies."

We spent several hours looking at every studio, but I came up with nothing. John was exhausted, and I was frustrated, so we went back to the flat. John collapsed in bed, only pausing to remove his coat and shoes. I climbed in after him after I removed the bandage and changed into my pyjamas.

Something had to connect the bodies to the killer, but I could not work it out. I plotted out the clubs in the area. They were all happening in the same part of Vauxhall. There were three major clubs: Body Shots, V.I.P., and Dave's. Most likely, the killer would target Dave's some time in the next few days. The only way I could see to stop the killer was risky. John wouldn't like it, and it would require me to remove my disguise.

I glanced at John. He would insist on being included. I suppose it would be possible, but it would make things more difficult. Still, it would make him feel better. I sighed. This was going to be unpleasant.

I was going to pose as a pole dancer to bait the killer.