They're both far too competitive. John's competitiveness was often playful, little things like, "I bet I can throw this rock farther than you can," or "I bet the body was shot instead of stabbed." But Sherlock was more to set out that he is better at everything, with things like, "I bet I can orgasm later than you," or "I bet I can get that woman's phone number."

Yes, that is the competition we are pinpointing at this moment. It was right after the case, they'd just been dropped off by Mycroft and Anthea to 221B. As usual, John tried to jolt Anthea's memory to get her to remember John, but she was vacant and concerned with her phone. And Sherlock was only talking to Mycroft.

Instead of going home, they decided to go to the bar down the street. They took a table and ordered a drink, Sherlock ordered the exact same as John.

"Why do you always order the same as me?"

"I never know what to get, and you do. If you like it, I'll like it."

"You've never been much of a drinker?"

"Not really my area, no."

"Oh, druggies only like drugs. Right." John sort of chuckled. Sherlock gave him a death look. "Ok, sorry."

They drank their drinks and ate the nuts that were on each table. They talked but it wasn't anything important. And then, John got curious. "Why don't you ever talk to Anthea? In the car, after cases, you don't even look at her. Why?"

"I'm not allowed to talk to Anthea."

John was silent for a really long time. Far too long, and when he realized this he asked why.

Sherlock sighed, as if he's told the story a million times. He actually hasn't. This is only the second time it's ever been talked about. "I slept with her."

"What? When?"

"When she started working for Mycroft. About five years ago."

"And you just…slept with her."

"Yeah. It was pretty basic. Easy. Kind of sad how easy it was."

"What happened?"

"Mycroft found out. And he banned us from seeing each other."

"Just like that? Banned you?"

"Yeah. He said she'd lose her job. She didn't mean enough to me, and she chose her career. It was one time. Five years ago. We haven't spoke and it hasn't been spoken about since."

"So, Irene wasn't the only woman you…"

"Of course not. I'm not a Ken Doll, John."

"I didn't mean that. How many men have you…"

"I don't know. A few."

"A few too many or you really just don't keep count?"

"I've deleted most of it. Why, do you keep count?"

John uncomfortably coughed, "No."

"Oh, I know you do. And I don't mind. You're a man."

"How did you get Anthea to sleep with you? She won't even talk to me."

"Do you want to sleep with Anthea?"

"No, it's just-"

"It was easy. I have, uhm, moves, you know."

John chuckled. "Moves? You?"

"I can be charming, believe it or not."

"And it actually works?"

"Worked on you, didn't it?"

"No, Sherlock. Waltzing into my room naked and proposing we have sex because I wasn't getting any elsewhere worked on me. There was no charm."

"I'm not charming?" He made his eyes softer and, sort of, leaned over John. Not in an aggressive manor, in a seductive manor. He flashed a sweet smile, "So, John-"

"Stop it."

Sherlock backed off and took his drink, "See, I have charm."

"I still don't believe it."

"Test me."

"Ok, try to pick someone up. Someone in this bar." Sherlock leaned over to John. "Not me!"

"All right," Sherlock scanned the bar, "I bet I can get that woman's number."

See, there's that bet.

John grinned, "Deal. I bet you can't."

"What's the wager?"

"Milk for a month."

Sherlock flashed a sly grin, "Deal." He downed the last of his drink and left his booth.

He went to the bar and sat next to the woman. She looked at him and smiled. He was attractive, that was obvious. They shook hands and he ordered her a new drink.

They talked for a while. John wasn't exactly jealous, more annoyed that it was yet another bet that he won. It did bother John that Sherlock was insanely good at the things he was bad at. No way could he get a woman's number, especially not that woman.

But part of Sherlock's 'charm' was that he had no fear. He was bold, he said whatever he wanted. Often he said things without thinking first, which John also wondered how he had any 'charm'. He didn't bite his tongue very well.

The woman jotted her number down on a piece of napkin and gave it to Sherlock. He shook her hand again, she kissed his cheek, and he went back to his and John's booth.

"No more nagging me about milk." Sherlock said, sitting down and smiling, very pleased with himself.

"Fine, you win that one."

"I'd win every time, John."

"There's no way you know that."

"Fine, new bet."

"Ok, this time we time who can get a number quicker."

"Sounds fair. Our targets?"

"You get…" Sherlock scoped the bar, then he had a very wicked smile and looked back at John, "That guy."

"WHAT? That guy? No, no way."

"Why not?"

"I just-"

"Don't you have experience in this area?"

"Well, I wouldn't say much experience-"

"Deal stands. That guy. Who do I get?"

John looked around the bar. There weren't many options, but he found one man sitting alone in a corner and pointed, "That guy."

"That's not fair, he's not gay."

"How can you tell?"

"You just can."

"Deal stands, you get that guy."

"Fine, have it your way."

They set off to separate sides of the bar and put on the charm. John's was going well, very well.

"But isn't that guy your boyfriend?" the man asked John.

"Him? Oh, no he's just my flat mate."

John got the number in ten minutes.

Sherlock wasn't having much luck. The man, as it turns out, was gay, he just wasn't out yet. He was scared, very shy. Sherlock tried as hard as he could and it just wasn't working. Finally, Sherlock had nothing to gain or lose. He kissed the man. He kissed him very, very well.

John saw the whole thing. He saw Sherlock push his face at the man's, he saw the man uncomfortably squirm, then he saw the man's hands rest on the back of Sherlock's head. And that was the final straw. John marched over to the table and pulled Sherlock away.

"But, John, I didn't get a number."

"That's ok, Sherlock."

"Are you angry?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

They got outside and John blew up, "I said get a number, not kiss him!"

"It started out with the number, then-"

"You're such an idiot!" John stormed towards 221B and left Sherlock staring and confused.

"I was just-"

"No, you weren't 'just'. You didn't have to do that."

"Why are you so upset?"

"I don't want you to kiss anyone else, Sherlock! Is it that hard?"

"But I-"

"Oh, just shut up! You don't get it, you never will. You may pretend to have the charm of a real human but you'll never understand what it's like to feel like a real human!" John got to the top of the stairs, opened the door, went in, and slammed the door on Sherlock's face.

Sherlock stormed in and went to John. "I was just on the bet, ok? I'm not going to do anything with anyone else, don't you-"

"You just did!"

"But that was nothing, John. It was a bet."

"It was a stupid fucking bet. No more bets. Ever."

"Fine, John. Whatever you say. I was just having a little bit of fun-"

"You didn't have to kiss him. That hurt, Sherlock. It really did."

Sherlock went to John. He wrapped his arms around John's neck and pulled him close. John's arms reluctantly went around Sherlock, and once there he squeezed him tight.

"I'm sorry, John."

"Just don't, again. I want you to be," John swallowed, afraid, "Just mine."

Sherlock smiled, "I can do that."

"Really? Because we haven't really-"

"No, John. I'm your boyfriend and you are my boyfriend. Just each other's."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

They kissed in the middle of the living room, something they'd done many times as lovers, but never as boyfriends. And that's how they ended the feud of monogamy and betting.