Disclaimer: The characters of Sherlock are not mine, nor is the story, nor are the characters from the original stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I make no monetary profit from this.

Note: A modern retelling of The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, with various elements taken from The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez and The Adventure of the Abbey Grange.

And I would like to thank the BBC for putting up The Personal Blog of John H. Watson, and for making Sherlock and John meet on my birthday. :D

Summary: To stop a blackmailer, Sherlock Holmes enters unfamiliar territory. But not before practicing on John Watson.

The Seduction of John S. Willougby

Part Five

"Hi, Harry? It's me."

"I know it's you, John. God, it took you long enough to call!"

"Sorry."

"And I even gave you the phone, and everything! You calling was the whole point. Or texting. Or something. Answering my calls. Keeping in touch, you know."

John tactfully refrained from pointing out that a large part of his having been given the phone had been the very angry, very drunken argument that had ended with Harry walking out on Clara. Well, one of those fights. A particularly bad one.

"Look, it's a bit of an emergency." He took a deep breath, looked around his room to make sure no-one was listening (yes, it was just him in there but it never hurt to be cautious), and barreled on. "How do you know if a guy's trying to come on to you?"

Harry laughed, a loud, screaming laugh of pure delight that had John holding the phone away from his ear. "Are you suddenly turning gay, bro?"

"No, I'm not!"

"It would be rich if you were. We'd be the end of the Watsons, the two of us. It's funny, John, it really is, lighten up a bit, will you?"

"It's not funny from where I'm standing, Harry."

"Why are you asking me anyway? I like women, in case you haven't noticed."

"You used to have boyfriends."

"Why are you asking at all, actually?"

"It's – my flatmate." John shrugged helplessly. "He's been - it's been a very weird week."

"What, the mad detective bloke you blog about?"

"I - yes, Harry. Sherlock, his name's Sherlock."

"You think he's trying to come on to you?"

"Brilliant deduction, Harry." Christ, did he actually say that? "Sorry. I'm just a bit on edge here."

"Yeah, well, I love you, too. So. Your mad detective flatmate named Sherlock. What's he doing then, prancing about in front of you naked?"

"Er." John had an unpleasant flashback of the fluttering blue towel. Several of his neurons must have died passing it on. "Well. Almost. He just had a towel on." He wanted to mention the drink of water, but knew that he couldn't possibly explain the gravity of it. "Look, I'm sorry, it's probably nothing, I don't even know why I called."

"Well, I'm glad you did." A note of reproach crept into Harry's voice. It made John feel guilty, and he wanted to kick himself. "But listen, if he's just walking around in his nuddy-pants, there might be nothing to it. You're flatmates. Aren't you bound to see each other naked eventually? And is he cute, by the way?"

Nuddy-pants? Was that even a word? "If there is something that Sherlock is definitely not, it is cute. And I thought you didn't care about boys."

"I'm trying to imagine what you'd look like with a guy. So he's not cute then, but is he hot?"

"Harry!"

"Anything else aside from his walking around in a towel?"

"Well, he did the shopping. He never does the shopping. And he made me tea, even if he must've done something strange to the biscuits. And we went to dinner last night and…" He didn't know if he could explain how strange it was that Sherlock had acted almost normal.

"You think your flatmate might be gay, and might be trying to come onto you, and you went to dinner with him? John Watson, what the hell? Did you shag him afterwards?"

"I was hungry!"

"So you shagged him?"

"No!"

"Kiss, then, did you kiss?"

"For God's sake, Harry!"

"You did nothing?"

"Well, no, we didn't." But it had been fun. If it had been a date, a first date, there would have been a second one. John really did not want to go there.

"Hmph." Harry was quiet for a while, as if this was a disappointment to her. "How long has it been since you got laid?"

"Harry!"

"All right, all right! Listen, this Sherlock of yours, is I think, perfectly entitled to go around his own flat dressed however he likes, and if you happen to be his flatmate, so much the worse for you, but it doesn't mean that he's trying a come-hither. And flatmates do go out to dinner together. It's something that happens. That's what I think."

"Right." John took a deep breath. "Right. Thanks, Harry."

"No problem. I'm glad you called."

"How are things?"

"They're – well – they're things. They're all right. I guess. Considering."

It was on the tip of John's tongue to ask about Clara, but he remembered just in time that he shouldn't.

"Anyway, it's been good talking to you, bro. I'm going to be late. You ought to be proud of me. I'm going to my therapist."

"That's – I hope it helps, Harry."

"Right, yeah, whatever. Don't be a stranger. Call me, even if you don't think your mad detective flatmate Sherlock isn't trying to seduce you. And, John?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to know that it'd be totally cool with me if you were gay."

"I'm not!"

"Just saying. You know I love you. Bye!"