A/N: POV will flip flop in this chapter.

Chapter Four – And the Shoe Drops

"Sherlock? I'm going out."

"Hmmm," Sherlock acknowledged, not looking up from his microscope. The last case had been a decent distraction, but it had been a bit too obvious. Lestrade actually would have figured it out in a few days, likely after the forensics came back – he depended entirely too much on that and not enough on his own senses. Now the detective was just trying to preoccupy himself with some research so he wouldn't preoccupy himself with John's odd behaviour. Stupid promise.

He heard John sigh and realized that he may have been expected to look up and actually say something. John really should have known better. The door closed and he listened as the doctor made his way down the stairs and out the front door.

"Bored," Sherlock muttered to himself.

What exactly was it that he promised John? He ran over their conversation in his mind. Yes, he had promised he wouldn't try to figure out what was going on in his head. He didn't promise he wouldn't try and figure out what he was up to. Sooooo. He could find out what his roommate was doing but not try and speculate the motivations behind it. Excellent! Back to John's laptop.

"Damn," he muttered as he looked around the other's bedroom. No laptop.

He went back downstairs and checked around the living area and the kitchen. Clearly, John had taken it with him. Considering the man's case was gone, that had to be what he did. Sherlock smirked. At least John was learning. However, that required him to use a different tactic, one that was likely to annoy John. Well, it was his own fault, wasn't it? He pulled out his cell phone and started typing.

We need orange juice – SH

Then go get some – JW

The reply took longer than he thought it should. Longer than it normally would have. That was telling.

Can't. Busy. Pick some up? – SH

Can't. Busy. Go out later. – JW

Busy doing what? – SH

None of your business. – JW

Nowhere near a shop? – SH

No – JW

Stop into one on way home. – SH

No. Not on the way. – JW

We need eggs, too. – SH

You don't eat eggs. – JW

Not going to eat them. – SH

Don't want to know. – JW

There's a shop just down the street. – SH

Exactly. – JW

Turning off phone now. Behave, Sherlock. – JW

That was interesting. Clearly John was on a date. And now Sherlock had an idea of where he was.

0000

Not every line of deduction paid off. Granted, the information he had gotten from John had actually given him three possible directions to go in search of his friend and he had chosen the mostly likely based on places he had taken women in the past. Clearly John hadn't gone that way.

Giving up and deciding to just wait for John to get home (he could find out so much more from John's behaviour than any other clue the other man left), he headed back to Baker Street. And stopped dead.

John had arrived home. And he had certainly been on a date. Yes, he was kissing said date good bye and laughing and smiling. It didn't happen very often, not to him, but Sherlock's stomach dropped. John had clearly come to grips with being attracted to men, and he hadn't felt comfortable telling Sherlock. It was a surprise that it actually upset him so much. Oh, he knew he was far more threatened by this blond statue kissing John than any of his female companions, but he knew he could handle the situation. It was John not talking to him about it, springing it on him like this, that was the problem.

He came to a decision very quickly on how he was going to 'handle' the situation and John deserved every bit of it for not giving him some kind of warning.

00000

John had had a very nice time with Jeremy. The matchmaker had been right – they had a lot in common and got on very well. He was also finding that holding hands and now kissing someone of the same gender was just as, if not more, comfortable for him than when he had been dating women.

"I think I'm ready for you to meet my flatmate, if you are," he suggested.

"I'm thrilled to," Jeremy smiled. "I really want to meet this man you keep talking about. Your adventures together sound amazing."

"Just, please, remember… he doesn't know I've started dating men. He'll deduce it himself once he meets you and after you leave we'll have to talk, but I think it will be easier this way."

"Of course, don't worry. I'll do my best to keep my hands off of you."

John laughed, but his mirth was short lived. A familiar, but oddly off, voice was hailing him from the street and quickly approaching.

"John! Wonderful, you're home!"

Sherlock had joined them on the stoop with more alacrity than John thought possible, not that much thinking was going on in his head at the moment. This should have been a nightmare scenario, but… Sherlock was smiling. And his voice was friendly. It was… sickeningly sweet, cheery, 'I'm about to pull something,' friendly. He'd done that before, putting on an act to get someone to trust him, to not see how he was dissecting every inch of them…

Dear. God. No.

"It's about time you brought your friend over," he said, wrapping one around John's shoulders and planting a kiss on his cheek that shocked the doctor more than if Sherlock had punched him. He stuck his hand out to Jeremy. "Sherlock Holmes, John's colleague, friend, and live-in. And you are?"

"Completely out of my depth, I'm afraid," the other smiled nervously, taking the proffered hand. "Jeremy. John led me to believe you had no idea about me?"

"Pish, he should know better, of course I did. Now, you two come on up and I'll put on the kettle."

And Sherlock pranced up the stairs. Pranced. Live in? John wanted to cry. And scream. He thought he wanted to scream a whole lot more. Yes, he was going with scream.

"I didn't think he'd be like that," Jeremy admitted, a bit confused.

"He's not. That was so out of character… oh, he's mad at me for not telling him. I shouldn't have just brought you over, I should have warned him. He's very good at chasing people off and I think that's what he's trying to do with you."

"Well, it's working."

John looked up at him startled.

"Don't let him get to you. He's just being an ass. Once he gets used to it he'll treat you with as much disinterest as he does most people. And that's preferable."

"Honestly, I think the way he treats you is preferable, at least how you've described him. It's not him being an ass that's the issue, John. The issue… darling, you're already in a relationship. With him. I was already a little put off that you talk about him all the time, but I thought, 'hey, it's his work and his flatmate rolled up in one, I'll meet the man first.' And I did. And he's pissed you're on a date. Never mind gender."

"I really don't think that's it, and I'm the one who lives with him so I should know."

"Sometimes an outsider sees more than those up close."

Jeremy kissed him on the forehead, smiled sadly, and waved goodbye as he walked away, not looking back. John watched, the fury in him growing. He swung around and stomped up the stairs to find Sherlock slouched in his chair, fingers steepled before him, looking directly at John as he walked in.

"Where's your little friend?" he asked, his voice back to its low, intense pitch.

"Gone," John grated out on the verge of shouting. "Where's the tea?"

"I didn't put any on."

"Didn't think you were going to. What were you playing at? Do you take pride in your ability to chase off every single one of my dates?"

Suddenly, Sherlock leapt up from his seat and started pacing. His movements were fluid, but frantic.

"What were *you* playing at? I could figure out most of what was going on with you, but why would you surprise me with this? Why wouldn't you just *tell* me? I thought you knew I wouldn't… wouldn't… what did you think I was going to do?"

"I don't know! This was different for me! This was hard for me! I just wanted a chance to digest what was going on and to try and be happy! Why do I have to run it by you first?"

"You don't." Sherlock had stopped pacing and had fixed a cold look on John. "You're right, of course, I am not your keeper. Just your friend."

John dropped into his seat and put his face in his hands, feeling like a shit all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry, you're right. You had no right to put on that horrid show on the stoop, but you're right. I should have told you, I should have talked to you. This has just been the oddest week or so of my life and I didn't know what to say."

"If it means anything, I didn't actually mean to chase him off."

John looked up. Sherlock was still standing there, hands on hips, but the coldness had gone out of his eyes.

"Are you planning on seeing him again? I don't mind that you've decided to date men, I really don't. I'd hoped you knew I would support you in most any decisions you make."

"Most?"

"Well, I'm not really in favour of anything that will move you out of here. Or tie dye. Well, the list is rather long," Sherlock smirked.

"Well, as for Jeremy, no. He's made it clear that he, like most of London, thinks you and I are in a relationship already and so there is no room for him. I guess I have to start over."

He met Sherlock's eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He could see the gears turning. Quickly, as usual. He had that look on his face he always got when he just didn't understand how John could completely miss all the evidence in front of him. John swallowed when Sherlock opened his mouth to speak. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I don't understand, John. Why are you putting yourself, and me, through all of this? It's rather dull watching you date. The solution to your issue is perfectly evident. If you want a romantic relationship with a man, what's wrong with me?"

"What?"

TBC

A/N: Hope that wasn't rushed or silly. I'm trying to avoid silly in favour of funny, but I think it may have been a little silly, so sorry. I was bored waiting on my husband so I just kept going.