A slight Issue

Chapter 2

To: Sherlock Holmes

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?- JW

To: John Watson

John, please don't be alarmed. Miss Adler recorded our conversation. It seems that she believes that the literate world thinking you and I are sleeping together will prove benifactory to her. - SH

To: Sherlock Holmes

Yeah, I think I worked that out! I'm coming home; get Chinese… and alcohol- we need to talk. – JW

To: John Watson

Alcohol slows the brain and damages the body John. –SH

To: Sherlock Holmes

Right now? I DON'T GIVE A FUCK. -JW

I leave the White Horse pub almost immediately after Jennifer and Anna, once I have composed myself and collected at least some of my thoughts. I notice four men and women clutching smart phones as I make my exit, and don't fail to notice the glances and raised eyebrows they direct at me.

My name is mentioned in three of the four people's conversations; all with fairly controversial views on 'the subject'.

Even the taxi driver appears to recognise me, and attempts to make small talk concerning Sherlock and I as he drives.

'Hey, aren't you the guy who's sleeping with the internet detective?' He asks, obviously searching for any information to sell. Well, I suppose driving taxis can't pay to well.

'I'd rather not talk about it.'

'Don't worry, I'm not judging, I think it's great. Good luck to the both of ya I say.'

The moment the cab stops outside 221, I leap out of it and after tossing an approximately correct amount of money towards the driver; unlock the main door to the building, and dash up the stairs.

I find Sherlock lounged, dressed in his coat on the sofa when I enter the flat, body curled towards the wall; a carrier bag showing the local Chinese shop's logo tossed on to the floor beside him.

'John.' He acknowledges, sitting up in order to face me, sleeve moving as he does so, revealing three nicotine patches. Must be thinking. That's a good sign. Right?

'Care to tell me what's going on Sherlock?' I growl.

'The papers?' He asks un-necessarily, as if we were discussing the weather.

'No shit Sherlock.'

'Well, it's fairly obvious. Adler needed insurance should her attempts of seduction fail.' Sherlock calmly comments.

'Sherlock, how can you be so calm? Our so called gay relationship's been splashed across every headline!'

'It happens.'

'It happens? Sherlock this is serious!' I scream.

'But why? It doesn't change anything. Everyone we know is convinced we've been sleeping together since our the case where you shot the cabbie. Lestrade and Mrs Hudson have bets going regarding us!'

'Yes, but now we're going to have serious issues denying it. The newspapers have proof!' I moan, exasperated.

'Why do you care John? People talk, in fact they do little else but talk. Everyone'll have forgotten by a week on Tuesday.'

'How the hell am I meant to get a girlfriend when the whole world's convinced I'm shagging you?' I scream, immediately regretting my outburst. Sherlock will of course delve into that statement and will no dought find hidden meanings that surprise surprise, even I wasn't aware of.

'Is that what's bothering you? I really don't see how this will change your situation, you weren't been able to keep a girlfriend for more than a week even before the press publicised our so called relationship.'

'That's not the point; I don't think you understand the severity of the situation, think of the outcomes, what if…' I start, before Sherlock interrupts me in a very un-Sherlock like fashion.

Quickly, no dought so I wouldn't have time to protest, and whilst muttering 'For fuck's sake' under his breath, Sherlock stands up, strides towards me, and presses his lips to my own.

Sherlock Holmes is kissing me.

I am being kissed by Sherlock Holmes.

He seems nervous, no dought afraid of rejection and the consequences his action could behold. And if Mycroft can be believed, Sherlock Holmes is a virgin. I wonder if he's ever kissed anyone before...

As Sherlock's mouth covers my own, I can't help but notice how soft his lips are, and how warm his breath is on my mouth.

After 10 seconds or so; I suppose he presumes I am not going to respond; he begins to pull away from me. I take impulsively take a hold of his dark curls and pull his face back towards mine.

Our lips crash together; I open my mouth invitingly, to which Sherlock early responds.

I pass one last chase kiss to Sherlock's lips and pull away, looking up into Sherlock's eyes in an attempt to gage the situation.

'What was that Sherlock?' I ask, unable to deduce what is running through the mind of the man opposite me.

'I believe it is wildly referred to as a kiss John.' Sherlock says, apparently unable to look me in the eyes.

'Yes, but why did you kiss me?' I press.

'It seemed like the most logical way to shut you up.' He responds heartlessly.

'That was the only reason?' I ask

'Of course John. Logic above all else.' He says; now ignoring me and turning his attention to the phone vibrating in his pocket.

'Sherlock Holmes.'

'Sherlock, its Lestrade. Listen, we need your help, there's been a murder. Young woman; apparent lover's dispute. Can you come?'

'Text me the address.'

'There's been a murder at… 34 Richmond Avenue.' He says after consulting his phone. 'Care to join me?'

The man just kissed me to 'shut me up' and now he wants to forget about it and solve crimes?

'Erm… No, I'll stay here. I need to… think.' I stutter.

'Could be dangerous.' He says, attempting to persuade me into joining him.

'No thanks. Next time.'

(Sherlock's POV)

In theory, kissing John was not the best idea. Though if I'm talking about things that were a mistake, telling John that the kiss's only purpose was to shut him up comes top.

Why? Why would I say that? Split-second response. As if John were an experiment, like that woman I proposed to last month for information for the 'master blackmailer' case. Bit not good according to John.

I suppose that's why he wouldn't assist me on this case. He feels used. Until today neither he nor I knew the extent of John's sexuality. For judging by the increased pulse rate, dilated pupils and erection against my thigh; I arouse John.

A spectacular thought.

The next step must of course be convincing John that what I feel for him is real. And not because of the newspaper articles or an experiment. Though experimentation on John may prove rather enjoyable.

Now, how does one go about seducing one's flatmate?

Predictably, my reception isn't the warmest at Scotland Yard. Some officers are very… supportive. Offering their congratulations.

They are Unforchanatly in a small minority. My job would be so much easier if my personal life could remain my own.

Donavon and Anderson appear to have formed some kind of fan club. And they refer to be as the resident 6 year old.

'Hey freak.' Comments Donavon 'See you're shagging your flatmate'

'Do you have to pay him to sleep with you?' Taunts Anderson 'Make him pretend to be dead? We all know you get off on the crimes you solve.'

'Anderson, Donavon. A pleasure as always. I see you scrubbed Anderson's floors again. The second time this week isn't it? They must be spotless. And Anderson. My condolences on your divorce. It must be a real shock to find out your wife's a lesbian.' I resort back. There, that should shut them up for a while.

'Sherlock, my office.' Lestrade announces, emerging from behind an unuslay large pot plant; clutching an umbrella. It seems my brother's fetish is rubbing of on him. How literally I cannot be sure.

'So you and John eh? Congratulations Sherlock, you'll make a great couple.' He says when seated behind his desk. 'Where is he today?'

'John is otherwise occupied. I see you are in a sexual relationship with my brother Mycroft Lestrade. I hear I am obliged to give you a nonsense speech saying not to hurt him. That of course is not going to happen, just don't trust two thirds of the things he tells you.'

'What… how could you possibly…' He stutters.

'Irrelevant. I believe you have a case that you are incapable of solving alone?'

'Er yes, Katie Myles, 18, found poisoned in a flat she shares with her boyfriend.'

'I presume since you called me, the boyfriend has an alibi?'

'Rock solid, he was visiting his sister in hospital, the visitors log, 20 witnesses and CCTV confirms it.'

'Crime scene photos?' I say, extending my hand out to which Lestrade places the photo's in.

'Poison is a woman's method of murder. Our victim is either a lesbian or a bisexual. Judging by the fact that she has a boyfriend; I'm going with bi. The victim was seeing a man and a woman at the same time. She told the woman yesterday that she had chosen the man and she couldn't continue to see her. The woman got jealous, and decided that if she couldn't have her, no one could.'

'Sherlock, that was… amazing. How could you possibly know about the girlfriend?'

Praise sounds better coming from John's mouth.

'From the pictures I see a black lipstick a meter or so from the body. Your victim couldn't possibly wear such a colour. Not with vibrant blonde hair and a conservative dress scence. Therefore, the lipstick belonged to someone else. That together with the poison; a female lover.' I state. Honestly, why can't people just think? They see but they do not observe.

'Do you have any idea who the girlfriend could be?' Lestrade asks.

'Your victim must have met the girl at school since she spends her home life with her boyfriend. She will spend most of her school life with people her own age, and for a bond strong enough to kill for; she will have known her killer for quite some time. I recommend you ask around her school; find her best friend, she's the murderer.'

'Thank you Sherlock, as always, brilliant. Why though, is your relationship with John splashed across every newspaper?' He inquires.

'Irene Adler.' I say through gritted teeth.

'The dominatrix?'

'Yes. Her insurance backfired. This was her back up plan.'

Meanwhile at Baker Street (John's POV)

After two minutes of persistent ringing, I finally locate my mobile phone, and press the 'accept call' button, surprised at the identity of the caller.

'Sarah?... Job opportunity… Australia… what, no I can't leave London… asked for me specifically… Yes, I'll consider it. Bye.'

An opportunity to leave Baker Street, leave London. Start afresh. Forget all about Sherlock Holmes and everything associated with him.

But I can't leave London. Can't leave Harry, my parents, Sherlock.

Because I'd miss him. Miss everything about him.

But maybe this is a good time to leave. If I left, everything that's been written in the papers would be forgotten. I could lead a normal existence.

But Sherlock… I never did figure him out. Never told him the extent of my feelings, only kissed him once (and that may or may not have meant something) never shagged him… where did that come from?

Could I really leave everything and everyone I hold dear behind?

Confused and in serious need of fresh air to clear my head, I stumble down the steps and out of 221b in a haze, stopping to brace myself outside, against the wall; collecting my thoughts, breathing deeply.

A black car stops outside 221b. A man in a pristine suit with dark hair accompanied by another man, scruffier in comparison climb out and advance towards me.

Oh brilliant.

'Lovely day to be kidnapped.'

A/N Hello; me again. Hope you enjoyed this instalment. I'm thinking this story's going to have a total of 3, maybe 4 chapters? Either way, the next one will contain Sherlock/John smut, I promise . If you want to see more; feedback's appreciated.