C-Ch-Ch-Ch- apter threeeeee! Finally.

I'M SORRY… Really I am! I'm also an asshole. I was getting all these super nice review, and just didn't write. It was only supposed to take me a couple of days, since I had 1000 words done, but it took way longer than that! And I don't know why!

Still, thanks everyone for reviewing, alerting and favouriting! I'm glad you like me! Even if I am an ass! Complete ass.

Oh and I wrote a lot of this while I was really tired, so please, please, point out any errors. I am doing this beta-less. Just me and my spellcheck!

John's P.O.V

The rest of our evening was filled with silence; the only sounds were the flipping of the pages of a medical journal I found and the constant tapping of the keys on his phone.

The only time that was broken was when I announced I would be heading to bed, even though it was only nine, which was followed by him telling me that there were extra blankets in the hall closet and that my new room was right up the stairs.

My goodnight was only answered by a grunt while he continued texting. Apparently this is what he meant when he said he sometimes didn't talk for days. It made me think what I would do for the times that he was silent. I needed to get a job and would have to buy a telly for this place. What man didn't have a telly in this day and age?

I didn't have any sort of sleeping clothes on me, seeing as it's not something I just carried around, so I just stripped down to my boxers. I slid into the bed I recently made, and was a disappointed by the dusty smell. I was hoping for more of a Sherlock smell too them, but they must have either been in the closet too long, or never used.

Despite knowing that, I buried my face in the pillow. It had been where Sherlock lived, and now where I lived.

That beautiful man invited me to live with him. Totally platonically, but that didn't stop my mind from wondering to all the things I wanted to do to him. Him, and his bloody cheekbones. They looked like they could cut glass, that didn't discourage the numerous fantasies that I've been forming all night about how I wanted to rub parts of my body against that chiseled face.

Just the mere thought of being able to touch, or rub against, Sherlock was enough to make me twitch in my shorts. I quickly glanced around, as if checking for someone. I knew there wouldn't be anyone, but that didn't stop my embarrassment.

Why was I embarrassed? This was now my room, and I could do as I pleased in my room. It was still uncomfortable thinking about Sherlock, while he was right down stairs. I was sick, because even with that fact, I still couldn't stop think about him in various positions, most of which I probably got from Karma Sutra I read about a year ago…. Just out of curiosity.

My thoughts didn't totally revolve around that though. I also thought of the way his hand felt in mine when we shook hands. His calloused finger tips, probably from playing the violin, but the palm just so soft. I could just imagine those running along my body, touching me the way my hand had begun to, even without my consent.

I took a deep breath, before gripping my length through my boxers, and the air in my lungs expelled loudly. I worked myself over the boxer for a time, before slipping beneath, the entire time imagining Sherlock doing this, not me pathetically wanking off the floor above him.

Sherlock was a very observant person, meaning I was trying to be extra careful about the sounds I was making. My whimpers were turning into moans and I could hear myself panting loudly mixed with the sound of my hand moving. The hand that was currently not engaged in a different activity, covered my mouth, trapping any random groans or calling out that could make life with Sherlock embarrassing.

I lasted an embarrassingly short amount of time, but my hips were thrusting into my tight fist, Sherlock's name a whisper on my lips. I had to stop myself from crying out when my orgasm ripped through my body. Obviously it's been too long since I had anyone. I should get on that.

Or get on someone… Bad joke. That wasn't even funny, really that was pathetic, showing how tired I was when thinking it.

Tired enough to completely disregard the mess in my boxers, and just rolled over, even if the movement felt disgusting. Closing my eyes, I sighed into the dust smelling pillow, and started to drift off. The last thought in my mind was not Sherlock, surprisingly, but was about how uncomfortable and awkward it was going to be in the morning since I had no extra clothes on me.

I woke up the next morning exactly as I had predicted, crusty and uncomfortable. It was awful. I had to do a slight waddle down the stairs in just my boxers. Sherlock was in the same spot he had been the when I left him, he didn't even take notice of me when I came down the stairs. That was a good thing at the moment though. I snuck into bathroom, and gave myself as thorough of a washing I could without getting in the shower.

"Sherlock?" I prodded once I was done in the bathroom. I had no idea if he had actually slept the previous night. There was a possibility he hadn't since he was still wearing his clothes from the previous day, and he was still in the spot I had left him.

He just hummed in response. His hands were clasped in from of his face, fingers against his lips. He was obviously deep in thought, and I felt a bit bad for breaking him out of thought, but I needed to talk to him about the day.

"Sherlock," I called again, placing myself directly in front of him. I waved my hands in front of his open, unblinking eyes. He was starting to scare me.

Finally, he blinked, and his eyes darted towards me, taking in my scandalously clad body, making me very self-conscious about standing there in just my boxers.

"Yes, John?" He glanced up at me, completely unfazed by my nakedness. Not that I wanted him to be fazed by it…

"I was just going to tell you that I'm going to run over to Dim's apartment, grab my necessities, and leave the rest for later. I'll meet you back here and we can go to the Yard yeah?"

"Yes, yes, that's fine. I don't see what you had to interrupt my thinking just for that. You could have left a note." Sherlock shrugged me off.

"And what have you been thinking about all night?" I challenged.

"The case." He countered.

"All night? I don't think that's possible."

"Anything else I have thought about is not your concern." He was getting defensive. I just wished I could understand what was going on in that mind of his.

"Alright, fine," I backed off, stepping away from the man. He was right, I shouldn't be prying.

His eyes once against glanced at my bare torso, making goosebumps appear as he did. Of course he'd be uncomfortable with my nakedness. We'd only known each other one day.

"Sorry, I'll go get dressed and head out." I awkwardly scratched my head, before hobbling away. I did hear him say, "That would be for the best," when I was at the bottom of the stairs.

I wasn't sure if I should have been offended or not. I wasn't even sure if he was talking about me putting on clothes or leaving. Probably not the latter, he seemed like a very blunt man, so if he suddenly decided he didn't want to room with me anymore he would probably just tell me.

So that meant it was my nakedness. Was it just me or nakedness in general? By what I've seen of Sherlock, not much, what I've gathered from his website and what I've heard from Dim and Greg, I could assume that Sherlock was not good with more emotional, intimate things. Like seeing me in my underwear. I wouldn't spend too much time thinking about it though. There was a chance that I was completely wrong. I'm not the great Sherlock Holmes or anything even remotely close.

Sighing, I pulled on my trousers, not enjoying the still uncomfortable feeling in my pants that reminded me of my new found obsession with my roommate, before grabbing my shirt.

I was out of the house quickly, saying only a quick goodbye to Sherlock, to which there was no reply as I expected. The trip to Dim's went pretty quickly, since I found a cab fairly fast and the traffic was unusually light for Saturday London. I just hoped my morning would continue this good, and Dim wouldn't be home.

Of course, I had no such luck. Instead, the first thing I saw when I walked into the flat, was Sally on the floor in front of Dim… scrubbing.

"Aw, Dim, put that away!" I cried, shielding my eyes.

He just smirked at me, as I shuffled across the flat. Sally at least had the decency to look embarrassed as she jumped up from the floor, pulling a couple buttons through the incorrect holes so she wasn't falling out of her shirt anymore.

"Out all night, fag?" He sneered, the slimy smile still on his face. "You left with the freak, so I guess he's also a fudge packer? Should have guessed it before." Yes, this was Dim's attempt at being witty, and yes, again, we do share a parent. Knowing my father, and his average intelligence, Dim's mother must have been a moron to spawn such an offensive cretin.

Sally stayed silent, her brown skin slightly darker than usual. She should be embarrassed. She should actually be mortified. Not only is she sleeping with a married man, it's also Dim.

"Yep, Sherlock and I, now I'm grabbing my stuff and U-hauling over there right now. Expect the happy announcement by the end of the week." I replied, completely monotone. I just wanted to get out of there. I hoped that Sherlock wouldn't mind me saying such things to Dim.

Dim sputtered for a moment, gaping at me, before finally saying some more stupid things. "So he really is a fag too?" He really has to further his vocabulary. I don't think he's called me anything other than fag and fudge packer since I arrived here, and there were so many better insults out there. If only he took the time to Google them. "Well good riddance, I'll finally have my flat to Sally and I."

"Until your wife gets back at least." I pointed out before ducking into the guest room I'd been staying in while with Dim. I didn't have much, I had no money to buy anything, but what I did have I shoved into two suitcases and was out the door. Dim was cussing me out and saying very bigoted things that would probably offend me if it was from anyone else.

Finally I was free. Free from Dim, and soon my life would be Sherlock oriented, and that was much better than waking up and seeing my half-brother's face every morning. So much better.

My leg wasn't bothering me too much, so I decided I would walk as far as I would be able to. It was such a nice day, and my mood was just so cheerful, I couldn't waste that on a cabbie's tip. I almost felt like throwing my cane, almost, not quite though. I still had to get to my new flat to see Sherlock in one piece.

My walk was slightly awkward after the two suitcases were factored in with my cane. I ended up having to strap it on top of the other and pull that one behind me as I hobbled at a very slow pace.

My cheer soon turned to confusion, because it seemed that every time I would pass a phone it would ring. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but when a payphone rang when I was right next to it, I couldn't help but think someone was trying to contact me.

"Hello?" I answered the ringing phone.

"Look at the camera on the building directly in front of you." The person on the other end told me and for some reason I did. The camera he spoke of seemed to be moving in an up and down fashion, almost like a nod. "Look at the one to your left." It was spinning in a circle. He directed me to another one, and this was turned around completely looking away from me. The person on the phone instructed me to get in the car that pulled up in front of me, and because the man seemed very nonthreatening on the phone, I did.

Another person was in the car, a woman that was texting. During the drive I constantly pestered her about where we were going, but at first only got one word responses and eventually just silence. Apparently I wasn't supposed to know who I was meeting.

I was dumped at a warehouse… This was all so clique I was almost laughable. And of course, when I entered I was met with a tall, lanky man in a perfectly tailored suit. There was one funny part about his appearance though.

"Nice umbrella, Mary Poppins," I joked as I approached him. He didn't laugh, but I thought I was hilarious.

"Yes, I heard you were a joker," Was his only reply, his voice filled with disdain. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

"And who did you hear that from?" I asked, before deciding that wasn't the best question to start with. "Actually, who are you? Why am I here?"

"We are here to talk about Sherlock Holmes."

He was not good with elaboration. "And who are you?"

"I'm probably the closest that Sherlock has to a friend… Well before you."

"Friend?"

"Well, closer to arch-enemies."

"So not his friend?" I was very confused.

"Sherlock doesn't have friends, until you that is."

"We not exactly friends, we met yesterday," I attempted to clear up this up.

"And in that time you've started solving crimes together, are renting a flat together and you have developed feelings towards him."

"It's really not like that." How did he know of my feelings? I didn't even know my feelings. I didn't have feeling towards Sherlock, only lustful thoughts.

"Oh, I know, Sherlock doesn't do relationships. Which is why your presence is really confusing."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I'm not here to make you understand, Dr. Watson, just need assistance regarding something that concerns Sherlock."

"How do you know who I am?" I asked, not at all surprised that he did. A man that called himself an arch-enemy, stole people off the streets in a nice car and met them in warehouses probably had some connections.

"I talk to people."

"What people?"

"Lestrade, sometimes."

"Why would Greg talk to you about me?"

"Greg and I have an agreement," He cleared his throat slightly. I definitely noticed how he started calling Greg by his first name after I did.

"What sort of agreement?"

"An agreement that has him reporting Sherlock's actions to me," He had a haughty voice that made me want to punch him.

"Why would Greg do that?"

"I asked him to."

"I'm Greg's good friend, and that's not like him."

"Who said I'm not Greg's friend too?" Through the calmness of his voice I heard slight anger.

"I wasn't saying that." I backed off, trying a different approach. "How often do you talk to him about Sherlock?"

"Often enough," He sounded like he was trying to prove something.

Then, it clicked.

"Oh… Oh! You want to shag Lestrade!" I accused, my voice rising. I don't know how I saw it, but I did.

"What?" He panicked. "That's insane!"

"No! You want him in your bed!" I was right, I had to be.

"You are good, aren't you?" He finally admitted.

"No, mate, you're just transparent. You have to work on that."

"I am anything but transparent." He scoffed.

"Oh, come on! The conversation was so easily led to Greg, and then you were trying so hard to make it seem like you were closer to him than I am, because, as you probably know, I am a gay man, and possibly competition, right?"

The other man balked. "I thought no…" He just trailed off.

"I can't wait 'til Greg hears about this," I chuckled.

"You can't say anything!" He shouted, raising his hands in the air, in some sort of panicked position. His umbrella clattered to the floor, forgotten.

"But I must."

"Please, John, please," He begged, and since he probably wasn't usually the type that begged I had to give him.

"Alright mate, but I have to do something."

"What's that?"

"First, what's your name?"

"Mycroft," Was all he offered.

"Well, Mycroft, I will be putting a good word in with Greg for you. I know from personal experience that he has some gay tendencies." I winked at Mycroft, making his jaw tense and hands clench. "Now, I'd appreciate it if that car would take me back to Sherlock's flat, because I wish to continue the case that we got. But I bet you know all about that." And, with that, I turned on my heels and walked out. When I was back in the car I noticed that I never did get to hear his proposition.

Review! Even if it's just to complain about how much I suck for making you wait, how boring this chapter is or just to say nice things. All reviews about great!

Tell me what you think of the Mystrade too. Disapponting because there's no John/Lestrade? Probably and I'm sorry about that too. I have things planned. I SWEAR!

Next chapter Sherlock's POV. We can see what he thinks of John... Any theories?