See? I'm making up for not updating for so long. Forgiven me yet? :D

Love you all! Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, favouriting and alerting! You make me so happy!

CHAPTER 23

Gaming floor

Crown Casino

Melbourne

VIC, Australia

John laughed and the players around him groaned as, amazingly, he won his sixth straight hand at Texas hold 'em poker. He felt slightly light-headed as the piles of chips (now in the four million dollar stage) were pushed towards him. There was a massive crowd around him and he turned to Sherlock with glittering eyes. The detective had no idea how John was doing it.

By the third hand, he began to suspect cheating before he remembered that John would never do that. Then he spent the next two hands watching as his fiancée got richer and richer and by the sixth hand's beginning he had to put it down to luck.

The detective knew that right now, Howell would probably have to be watching this game from above in the security room as John pulled in the money, and Sherlock knew that they wouldn't have to wait long before they were called into the high rollers game. John smiled,

"love, what say you and I go and see what we can buy with this?" he asked and Sherlock nodded, reaching for John's hand,

"Sure," he took John by the hand and they left to applause as the chips were collected. They walked to the cashier and pooled their money there.

Amazingly, no one came to check John for cheating. No security guards appeared to drag him away. The doctor knew that Howell must know who he is – and more importantly, doesn't want to lose him as a potential player. They had been told that they'd be allowed free reign in the casino, but John, so unused to spending lavishly or, more to the point, having the money to spend lavishly, it was like being in a dream world.

In a slight daze, John listened as the girl smiled and told him that the four million, three hundred thousand and ten dollars were cashed into his account and was ready for use.

John let Sherlock drag him away and towards the bar, "Pierre," Sherlock said, setting him down. The doctor looked at him,

'You're a self made millionaire. Stop looking so pleased about winning a couple of million,"

Only Sherlock would pop a man's bubble.

John's face dropped slightly, "can you be any less blunt?" he asked, but there was a smile lingering on the corner of his lips,

"I probably could," Sherlock answered back, quite seriously. John managed to sit still for a moment longer before jumping up and wrapping his arms around Sherlock. The detective has expected as such and already had a hand on the bar to steady them, as people flowed around them and the sound of the pokies machines rang in the air.

"I actually won a game!" John exclaimed, as if he only just realised and Sherlock shook his head. The bartender's laugh caught their attention and Sherlock moved his head so that he could see past John,

"You're one of the few," the barkeep said, looking at John. Sherlock turned to face the man fully and realised that he was one of the AFP agents. Dark blonde hair falling into hazel eyes complete with tanned skin that was enhanced under the lights made it impossible for anyone to forget – even John.

The doctor smiled and sat back down, "Two beers," he said and Sherlock wrinkled his nose.

"Beer doesn't take your fancy?' the barkeep asked, catching the expression,

"Not particularly. And since my fiancé did just win an extraordinary amount of money, I see very little reason for me not to order your finest whiskey,"

"You drink whiskey?" John asked sceptically, as the barkeeper went around his business.

"Always,"

"Since when?" John's voice went up a notch and Sherlock rolled his eyes and leaned in so that his mouth was a centimetre away from John's. The doctor's breath hitched,

"Stop thinking dirty," Sherlock muttered and he could feel John's blush and allowed himself a small file before saying what he actually meant to, "It's on my file. I suggest you read it,' Sherlock said and the doctor dropped his forehead onto Sherlock's

"I never remember that stuff," The small whine in John's voice was enough to make Sherlock want to leave the casino and go to their temporary home, when the barkeep cleared his throat as he brought the drinks back,

"A mug of beer," he said, placing it in front of John, who normally pale cheeks were burning,

"And a bottle of our finest whiskey," he placed it in front of Sherlock who nodded his thanks,

'And, can you tell the manager…thanks," Sherlock said and the agent smiled and nodded,

"No problem, sir," he said and then his eyes fell onto John,

"Any messages?" he asked and the blush on John's cheeks deepened.

He didn't know why.

He did have a feeling, however, that he would know shortly, because next to him, Sherlock tensed.

"No, thankyou," John allowed a small smile to come to his lips,

"I'll take the bottle with me," Sherlock said, and without waiting for a reply, he gabbed John and dragged him off.

Upstairs room

Crown Casino

Melbourne

VIC, Australia

Upstairs, Howell watched as the couple left the casino,

'Send an invitation to Mr. Mannu, asking him to join me tomorrow for the Saturday night game," Howell said, watching he screens as his secretary hastily scrawled the instructions down.

"Yes sir," he mumbled,

"And make sure that his fiancé is out of the building. Let's keep things as simple as possible," Howell leaned forwards as if to study John's face better as he turned to face Sherlock outside the casino and the light fell of the doctor's face,

"Yes sir,"

"Oh, and I want those print outs of today's profits, take it to my office."

"Yes sir,"

"That will be all," The secretary hurried out of the room, leaving Howell and the ten other security guards to stare at the screens.

Howell continued to watch as the couple climbed into a taxi and found that this man – the man that he was meant to capture for his gang, Pierre – may prove a bit tougher than he realised.

Especially with a fiancé. His word may change my investment's mind.

The billionaire sat back as the taxi pulled away from the curb. Perhaps, it would be better if the fiancé…didn't exist, later?

Howell got to his feet and zipped his jacket on, "I'm going home," he announced and the room replied with a 'yes sir', the chorus following him out.

I'll deal with the fiancé later. In England…perhaps. He walked to the elevator and hit the button. He leant against the wall, staring at nothing in particular; his black eyes glinting as his brain whirred with ideas and excitement started to bubble beneath the surface.

I have a contact in England, I'm sure he can arrange…yes. Howell smiled, both because the lift was here and because a plan was coming to life. Accidents happen. Mr. Mannu will be well and truly under my control. It will be perfect. Now…what's that contact's name again?

With that, Howell hit the button for the ground floor and tried not to look to smug.

He didn't manage.

Hmmm..yeah.

So...Cookie369, this is for you. You should know this.

Can anyone guess who that contact is?

I do have Cookie to thank for that. *hugs her*

Oh...and did you understand the thoughts thing? I'm not sure whether it made any sense.

Aza

xoxo