A/N: Sorry for the late update. I have three WIP's right now, and this one just isn't my favorite. Nonetheless, I do want to continue.

Warnings are the same as always, sexual insinuations, Irene Adler being her usual dominatrixy self- femslash, slash, all that jazz. No smut just yet.

I don't tend to label POV changes, I feel like people can usually distinguish those themselves, but if that bothers you please let me know. Read and review as always.

"The aphrodisiac wore off," Kate pointed out, pouting at the screen as she watched Sherlock and John sitting at the table having breakfast. No signs of potential sex or anything of the like.

"Yes," Irene agreed. "But it wasn't meant to last a long time. Merely start playing with that pretty head of his. And it's done its job. Why, I've counted six glances at Watson this morning…"

"Glances? Is that all we get? I thought you promised me a show," Kate said, wriggling to try to adjust herself and get a better view of the screen. Irene glanced at her handcuffed wrists, calculating how long Kate could go in them. She'd probably be fine for another few hours. The woman was tough…hence her perfect makings for Irene.

"Never fear, darling. A little patience is all this game requires. Now, I must be off to see that client. You'll be alright for another hour, won't you?" Irene asked, glancing her over with obvious care.

"Yes, Miss Adler," Kate said with a smirk.

"Good girl," Irene said, moving in to place a quick kiss to her lips. "As a reward I'll leave you this so you don't get too bored."

She handed Kate her phone, allowing the woman to grasp it carefully in spite of her hands still being bound together. Kate's eyes lit up at the thought.

"Now, enjoy watching a bit. You'll see what I mean if you're observant. Now, I must be off so I can return and watch later."

Irene strutted over to the doorway and paused, glancing back towards the screen one last time, longingly admiring another furtive glance from Sherlock. So perfect. She licked her lips.

"I'll be back. After all—the game is on."

Kate smirked and looked from the phone to the screen as the door closed. She began typing out a message, unable to contain a soft laugh at the thought of what was coming.

John was trying to focus on eating. But it was hard. Especially with the Holmes brothers arguing over top of him.

Mycroft had been there for a solid twenty minutes already, trying to work details out of Sherlock, trying to understand why the photographs had not been recovered and all that. And while the two snipping at each other was irritating, the true discomforts of the situation were in another area altogether.

The problem was that he couldn't stop thinking about the day before…everything that had happened…in particular the horrible strangeness of dealing with drugged up Sherlock.

At first the consulting detective had simply been lethargic and dazed, nearly passing out once or twice. He'd seemed a bit out of it. Then, of course, he began to babble.

Half of it didn't even make sense. Things about the woman. Things about cases and murder and catching killers. Things about violins and music. Lestrade caught a particularly funny segment of Sherlock talking about the air outside Irene Adler's house, going on about air and absolute nonsense for a good fifteen minutes. But in the cab on the way home, that was when it became even more odd.

Sherlock had sort of, slumped against him. He'd begun babbling something about how comfortable his arm was. And then—then Sherlock's hand had drifted down to his trousers.

John had pulled it away of course, told Sherlock it was all right, and he'd be home soon. But the man had continued to mumble things about John…about how good he smelled and how wonderful his body looked and…

John had to stop thinking about it. The main thing was he'd put Sherlock to bed and it had all been fine after that. Or it would have been, if not for hearing several bits of moaning that had reminded him of—well let's just say he hadn't really wanted to think about it.

Most of the time, Sherlock seemed to have the sexuality of a rock. He had no interest in anyone, man or woman. But last night—something about everything that had happened must have simply pushed him into a different state of mind.

Shaking his head, John pulled himself from his thoughts in time to add a sarcastic comment to the mix.

"Treat her like royalty," Sherlock suggested.

"Though, not like she treats royalty," John said with a smirk.

Mycroft offered a half smile, though both of them were interrupted by a noise.

A breathy female sigh, rang out through the little flat. John glanced for his laptop wondering suddenly if he'd left a video playing accidentally or if a pop up had come up or something. That would be his luck. Instead, Sherlock got up and stalked over to retrieve his phone.

John tried not to overthink it, but still, the noise kept playing in his mind. A breathy—well sexual sounding sigh that seemed more fitting for pornography than for some noise coming from Sherlock's phone.

The consulting detective ignored his question. He looked over whatever had been sent and tucked it back away, stalking back over to the table.

There was a pause, but Sherlock quickly filled it with accusations about the CIA killers. John looked down at his food again, brow furrowed as he tried to not think about the noise. Just his luck of course, it came again.

He jerked up and looked towards Sherlock, who again pulled his phone out to look at it before putting it away. Mrs. Hudson saw fit to comment on how "rude" it was, but Sherlock still offered no defense.

An orgasmic noise from Sherlock's phone. He had to be dreaming. He had to be hallucinating. He had to have hit his head or something—all that had happened continued to add up to some dream unfounded in reality. A sexy criminal walking into the room with no clothes, Sherlock kissing him, Sherlock making what seemed like advances on him, and now sex noises coming from his phone. Had he been watching too much pornography lately? Was this an effect of not having a girlfriend in the last few weeks? Was he this sex starved that his mind was supplying him with these situations?

He eyed Sherlock cautiously, watching as the detective pulled his newspaper up again, stormy eyes gazing at it challengingly. John let himself examine his flatmate's countenance, his fine features, his pale skin, his well-defined chest made impeccably clearer by the button up he was wearing—

No.

He wasn't gay. He wasn't. He just recognized the attractiveness of his friend, that was it. It'd been a weird week. Give it a day or two and he'd be back to his normal straight self. Just give it a few—

His body responded at the mere thought of that noise, recalling more intimate images to mind. He shifted uncomfortably, deciding maybe he should actually say something.

Mycroft had disappeared out into the hall to take a call. Perfect timing.

"Why does your phone make that noise?" John asked.

"What noise?" Sherlock muttered, still continuing to pull his newspaper higher. Being evasive, but John was used to that.

"That noise—the one it just made."

"It mean's I've got a text," Sherlock said with a sigh.

"Hmm…your texts don't normally make that noise."

"Well somebody got ahold of my phone and apparently, as a joke, changed their text alert noise."

"So every time you get a text…"

He trailed off as the phone sighed yet again, as if on cue. That was…strange. John shifted again.

"Can't you change it?"

Sherlock didn't answer, but was interrupted by Mrs. Hudson asking him to turn the thing down. John quite agreed, though he didn't know how to say that without stating the obvious. And then Sherlock would simply have one more thing to mock him for. The detective himself didn't appear the least bit bothered. Of course not, John thought to himself, since when has Sherlock ever been bothered by sex or appeared the least bit interested in anything or anyone. The man's a machine in that respect.

"How'd someone change their text noise," John suddenly said. "Wasn't it with your—coat?"

"I'll leave you to your deductions," Sherlock said.

The words stung for some reason. Part of it, John decided, was not understanding why the detective didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth. The likelihood was that Irene Adler had done so at some point, that she'd returned the phone, but if that was the case why not tell John? His secretive behavior was becoming annoying, proving this woman to truly be something different.

Hold on, John thought, I'm not jealous am I? No, there's no way I'm not it's just—

"I'm not stupid you know," John said, turning back to his food and wondering if Sherlock really did think he was. Most likely. That was the whole appeal of bloody Irene Adler and her brilliant mind. Sherlock would slobber all over himself for her then. Intelligence…he'd always been smart in school, but nothing like Sherlock of course. Compared to the detective he was average. And Sherlock clearly wasn't interested in average.

"Where do you get that idea?" Sherlock muttered sarcastically.

John tried his best to not react. Don't act like that hurt you. It wouldn't normally. After all, he'd normally just let such things bounce off. But today was different for some reason.

They were interrupted by Mycroft returning to the room, telling Sherlock to leave Irene alone. The challenge in the detective's eye bothered John. Sherlock never was good at leaving things alone…and the last thing John wanted was more time around Irene Adler. The woman was clearly up to no good, and he feared what further contact might do to the already confusing relationship.

Mycroft left as Sherlock took up his violin. John sat a moment listening to the soft lilting melody of "God Save the Queen." Normally he'd just listen a bit and probably head out if the noise started to bother him. But today he couldn't help but stare at his flatmate, intrigued by how intimate and sensual violin playing could appear.

The sweeping motion of the bow, the careful grip Sherlock kept on the long neck of the instrument, fingers dancing over the surface as he quickly morphed into a more lively concerto piece after Mycroft had disappeared out the door. His whole body was poised in anticipation of each note, eyes closing briefly in a moment of passion.

The crescendo of music, the rising swell as more and more passion and energy went into each stroke, reaching towards climax, climbing up up up, the tip of the bow sliding more and more rapidly back and forth, the sawing motion arcing as the undulation of smooth vibrato rose faster and faster—

"Right, I'm going to go out for a bit," John muttered, grabbing his plate and taking it towards the kitchen. If Sherlock heard him he didn't respond. He kept playing. Until a soft sigh from the table broke his concentration.

John's head jerked up. Sherlock stopped playing. Sherlock never stopped playing in the middle of a piece unless there was an emergency or—well something important was happening. John was used to having to wait until breaks in pieces to get his attention, even then sometimes the detective was in the mood and wouldn't stop.

But he'd paused to look at the phone, peering down at it. Though again he appeared to not answer, the principle was the important thing. Irene Adler was worthy of ignoring music for. Irene Adler was interesting enough to leave a piece unfinished. Irene Adler was the one Sherlock appeared to like and be interested in and potentially want to have sex with and—

Not gay. Not gay. John tried to repeat those things to himself over and over again as he made his way back towards the stairs.

"Nice and hot if you'd like," Mrs. Hudson said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Wait…er…sorry…what?" John stammered, trying to figure out what she'd just said.

"The tea! If you'd like some. I just put a kettle on."

"Er…no I think I'll have to pass. I really ought to be coming—I mean going."

"Oh alright. Well, give your love to Sherlock."

"What?"

"Give my love to Sherlock, dear. After everything that's happened he could use it. I know you'll take good care of him."

"Er, yes. I'm going out now, Mrs. Hudson. Good morning."

"It shouldn't be too long before he'll be back on his feet. No matter how hard last night was."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson," John muttered as he closed the door behind him before another word could pass his ears. He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath, before opening again to go find a cab and head off for the day.

Irene Adler was most amused when she returned to find Kate giggling at the screen.

"Having fun are we?" she asked, setting her things aside before coming to sit on the bed beside her lover. She reached for the handcuffs and undid them, taking the phone as well to scan the few texts.

"He didn't respond," Kate told her. "But he got a bit riled up—though I think Dr. Watson was even more so."

"Mmm…really. I suppose I did sort of expect that. He strikes me as the jealous type. Hence some of my strategies," Irene chuckled. "I'll have to go watch the recordings. I'm sure they're amusing."

"Yes," Kate agreed. "But Dr. Watson left after only a bit. I'm not sure we're going to get much out of him if he runs every time he's feeling something—at least if that wasn't a knife in his pocket."

"He'll confront what's there eventually. But this isn't checkers, Kate. This is chess. This involves set up and planning and watching the other players' moves very carefully. And after those are determined—we strike."

"I do love your plans," Kate agreed. "In the meantime, we continue to watch and wait?"

"Indeed," Irene said, eyeing the detective playing his violin. "The longer the set up, the bigger the fall…or perhaps we'll settle for the longer the tumble in bed."

"I wouldn't mind one of those myself right now."

"Oh shush you," Irene said, reaching over to smack Kate on the thigh, though she smiled in spite of herself. "Now, be a good girl and go fetch me my tea. I intend to watch that footage over again. See just how well you've played our two darling boys. From the state of Mr. Holmes I'd have to guess quite well…but I need to see for myself."

A/N: Not sure when I'll write more, but I will try to soon! Read and review please! Those who did (The Archfiend, moonandstargoddess, kismet38), thank you so much!