A/N: My poor poor followers, I have let you down and I apologize. I've been really involved in my other two WIP's and didn't even realize how much time had passed. Be warned updates will probably continue to be infrequent, but I do want to finish this story I promise. Here you are!

Irene took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment and relaxing back into the steam. She allowed herself to linger just a moment before she turned off the tap. Sliding a hand over her skin to remove some of the water, she admired the soft texture and the near perfect shave of her legs.

Stepping out she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to confront it, only to see Kate rising from a stool to the side with a fluffy towel.

"Thank you darling," Irene murmured, allowing Kate to wrap her up before moving to kiss her lips. "You should have joined me."

"Oh, I was busy watching the feed for a bit," Kate said. "It's been a while since I've checked it."

"Not much happening?" Irene asked. "Or that's what I would assume at least, especially considering you didn't come get me."

"No," Kate said with a sigh. "Those two just still can't seem to realize what's going on. I'm getting sick of watching pathetic sex between John and Shannon. How long are you going to let that go on?"

"I've told Shannon to drag it out a bit," Irene said. "But I think the end to that relationship is coming soon. She's complained more than once that she's tired of dealing with his half-hearted attempts at shagging her while thinking of his flat mate."

"I can't believe John is so blind to the way Sherlock looks at him," Kate huffed before reaching out to smooth Irene's hair before reaching for a comb.

"Can't you?" Irene said, raising an eyebrow. "Honestly darling, I remember someone being quite oblivious to romantic looks."

"Well, first off I had no idea someone like you could go for someone like little old me," Kate purred. "And besides, it was before you converted me."

"Hmm yes back when you insisted you weren't gay," Irene said with an eye roll. Her eyes caught Kate's in the mirror, boring into them with a level of heat that caused Kate to squirm.

"I'm still not," Kate said. "I'll have you remember I'm bisexual, hence why I want to watch those two boys shag so badly. Not all of us like to make things as complicated as you in our sexual labels."

"To define is to limit," Irene said, licking her lips. "And really darling, what's the point? If I had to pick something for your sake I'd say pansexual homoromantic."

"Hmm…I like it," Kate said. She worked the comb deeper into Irene's scalp, causing her to let out a soft moan. "I really never thought you'd go for me. What with all your brainy is the new sexy and all. I was so shocked the day you finally made a verbal proposition."

"Verbal? Darling you walked into your room to find me naked in your bed."

"Yes, and then I went 'oh she wants sex' which you did which completely rocked my world of course. And after a few weeks of that, then you mentioned being interested in continuing things…I just never thought you'd want me…for more than the sex. Not with how stupid I am."

"Every good brain needs a heart," Irene said lips curving into a smile. "My lovely Kate, what would I do without you?"

Kate just smiled and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. She pulled away to bat her eyelashes and beam at Irene.

"Is it a vanilla night?" Kate asked, cocking her head to the side even as she continued to give the most adoring smile.

"Yes," Irene said. "I think it is."

Sherlock gritted his teeth as he looked over at John for the hundredth time. How could the man be so oblivious? It seemed quite obvious to him that Shannon was using John in some respect. He wasn't quite sure how exactly, but he had a bad feeling about her. He knew that his deductions should spring from actual evidence, but with Shannon it didn't matter. She was absolutely repulsive and he couldn't believe more than a month had gone by since they'd first met her. Shouldn't John be right on schedule to be finding a new girlfriend by now?

Not that that would be any better, of course. Sherlock had to keep reminding himself that another girl could be worse. The awful polka-dotted woman for example had been dreadful. Sarah had been bearable, but even the thought of her now made him feel furious.

He went over to pick up his violin, intent on finding something to distract him from the fact that some giggling bitch was sitting on his sofa room with her hand on John Watson's knee acting like she owned the place.

"Er Sherlock," John said when he picked up the instrument.

"Yes?" he said, spinning around, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.

"Er…we're sort of trying to talk, mate? Mind playing in your own room or upstairs or finding something more quiet to do?"

Shannon's dark eyes were boring into him, the smirk on her mouth made him want to spit.

"Fine," Sherlock muttered, setting the instrument aside. He went to sit in his chair again, steepling his fingers and doing his best to descend into the recesses of his mind where there might be something to comfort him. Why must John torment him this way?

After what felt like eternity, Shannon rose from her seat, thanked John and grabbed her coat. He smiled at her, eyes warm. Sherlock's jaw clenched involuntarily, becoming even tighter when John leaned over to kiss Shannon, long and passionate and far too intimate for Sherlock's liking.

John walked her out. Sherlock waited until he heard the door of the cab close before he went to grab up his instrument a second time, immediately starting to practice now that he didn't have to worry about Shannon.

There were footsteps on the stairs and then John was back up. He glanced at Sherlock and sighed before running a hand through his hair. His eyes closed, and Sherlock tried to put himself back into his music rather than paying attention to the aesthetics of John in the low lamplight.

"I just can't win," John muttered, walking over to plop down in his chair, slumping immediately and letting out another long sigh.

"Whatever do you mean?" Sherlock said, setting his violin down in favor of listening to what John had to say.

"Sherlock…look…if I'm over with Shannon you're texting me constantly, if I'm over here you won't speak to me…do you see my dilemma?" John said. "You act like you're bored and lonely, but the moment I bring her over you start acting like you have too much to do."

"So?" Sherlock said.

"Well, it just puts me in an awkward position," John said. "You know, having to either be with her and having you constantly texting me, or having her here feeling unwelcome with your cold shoulder."

"Don't blame me for your recent decline in participation in sexual activities," Sherlock muttered.

"Oh you shut up you bloody wanker," John said. "That has nothing to do with this."

"Doesn't it? You're frustrated. You're annoyed Shannon isn't behaving as you want in the bedroom. And therefore you're taking it out on me. Why don't you go let off some of that steam with a few of those lovely pornographic videos on your computer?" Sherlock said, looking up to stare at John pointedly.

"Shut up," John snapped, turning away and going back to the door. "Honestly Sherlock, I don't know what you want from me."

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, straightening as he watched John go to the door.

"Out," John said, grabbing his coat and throwing it on. "And I expect you not to text me unless there's a case, understood?"

Sherlock didn't reply. He was still trying to process. John was angry with him. Why was John angry with him? Other than the obvious of being sexually frustrated, he couldn't really find a logical reason for John to be feeling such.

Sherlock hadn't been rude to the bit—er…John's girlfriend. No, he hadn't been friendly but really did John expect him to start small talk with her and smile and act all hospitable all of the sudden? He'd always thought John was unique in understanding how he didn't get on with others. But for once John seemed to be taking their side instead of his. Apparently some girl he'd met a month ago was now more important than his flat mate.

The door downstairs closed, and Sherlock sighed. Perhaps he should find something to distract himself with. Anything to not think about John probably going over to Shannon's and begging her for sex. Sure, apparently it hadn't been going well judging by the more regular times Sherlock heard John wanking in the shower, but that didn't mean John wasn't going to attempt intercourse with her tonight.

Sherlock stood, stalking over and scooping up John's laptop. He'd changed the password yet again, but really it wasn't too hard to tell. A few of the letters were smudged from where he'd been eating while typing yesterday, and it had been around then Sherlock remembered getting a glare.

He guessed it in three tries. Really John could be less obvious.

Sherlock pulled up the internet and started doing his basic scans. Perhaps seeing what John's basic history was might help him gather a bit more data as to his flat mate's behavior. Sherlock nodded and set to work doing a basic scan of that.

Blog. Email. Porn. Searching a recipe for pasta. Porn. A map search of a restaurant address. Youtube. Porn. News. Some dreadful social site Sherlock was sure to avoid. A dating service. Porn—

Sherlock paused and glanced at the dating website. Why on earth would John need to be on a dating website? He already had a girlfriend. Perhaps he had simply been scanning the market for a more suitable choice. Or…maybe he was trying to help a friend…or…

He was running out of theories so out of curiosity he clicked on it. It looked fairly average. Smiling couples on the homepage. He clicked the login box, but was surprised to see that unlike other sites, John hadn't let it remember his username or password. Well, that was problematic. More for the username than the password issue (it was probably the same as his other logins).

There was a noise from his phone, and he looked up from the computer, glancing at the screen to see yet another text from Irene Adler.

I like your funny hat.

He rolled his eyes and went back to searching. Why did she need to be so dreadfully boring? Especially when he had something like John's private life that was far more interesting to him.

There were several minutes of attempting various versions of John Watson as a username. But Sherlock wasn't having much luck. Jwatson. JohnWatson. JHWatson. Johnhwatson. He even tried John's favorite numbers after a variety of those. But it didn't work. There were simply too many combinations. Perhaps if he went into John's email he could find the original login information or reset the password.

However, when he tried John's email he had no luck finding anything of the sort, even in the trash and junkmail folders. Realizing he might have used another email, Sherlock scanned the history to see if his hunch was correct, only to find a second email. He pulled it up and again was surprised to see that John hadn't left his information.

Eyes narrowing, Sherlock tried his suspected email address and password combination only to have an error box pop up.

Password hint: FUCK OFF SHERLOCK!

He rolled his eyes and closed out of the email account entirely. Clearly John wanted to keep this from him, though why he wasn't sure. Still, he'd find other means to wrestle out the truth.

In the meantime something to occupy his attention. Sherlock shifted in his seat, but his interest was piqued by the multiple listings of porn sites. What he'd told John probably held true to himself as well. Sexual frustration was bothersome…especially considering he hadn't experienced it much before. So perhaps…

He opened one of the links. The first things he found were some videos with very busty women, but he soon found another on the site with two men that looked slightly more appealing. Of course, as he began watching, Sherlock couldn't deny that nothing was taking him to the same level as his own self-pleasure thinking of John. Still, he watched a bit longer, wondering if perhaps he should try stimulating himself.

There were footsteps. Sherlock looked up to see John entering the room again, and he froze up. Moans were being emitted from the laptop on the table. John's eyes narrowed.

"What the hell are you doing!" John snapped.

"Just an experiment," Sherlock muttered, finally managing to stop the video in its process. He exited the tab quickly, just in time as John grabbed the laptop, and pulled it away.

"Stay off my computer," John growled.

Sherlock said nothing, too caught up in trying to make his deductions about John.

"Why are you back so soon?"

John shot him a glare. "I went for a walk," he said. "What expected me to circle London and then come back?"

Sherlock shrugged. He didn't really know what to say. What, sorry John I'm having a crisis where I find myself attracted to you and I wanted to watch some porn to see if that would help? Or John would you please just come have sex with me so I might stop feeling confused? No, he had enough social awareness to know one didn't spring that on someone. Especially a friend who had no inclinations towards the same sex.

He opened his mouth to speak only to have another female moan come from his phone. He glanced to see a text.

I'm not hungry. Let's have dinner.

John's scowl deepened. "Well, I'm going to go to bed. And I'm taking this," he indicated the laptop, "with me."

Sherlock frowned and did his best to keep disappointment out of his expression as John disappeared upstairs. Bed? It was barely even ten. That was atypical to say the least. All of these odd behaviors and Sherlock still couldn't make a clear deduction other than the obvious that something was wrong.

Mrs. Hudson appeared in the doorway. Sherlock was at least grateful that she hadn't walked in on him. Small mercies, he supposed.

"Lestrade's downstairs waiting for you two," Mrs. Hudson said. "Says he's got a case."

Sherlock nodded. "Fine. I'll be down in a moment."

"Do you want me to go tell John?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

Sherlock shook his head. "No. I'll go alone."

"John doesn't want to come, dear?"

"No," Sherlock said. "He's quite tired. I'll be down in a moment. Please go inform Lestrade."

Mrs. Hudson frowned but did head back to the stairs. Sherlock stood and went to grab his coat, wondering for a moment if it was the right thing to do, leaving John upstairs. On the other hand, maybe a case would distract him. But Sherlock wasn't sure he could handle having to look at John tonight. Seeing his perfect smile and knowing it belonged to someone else.

Sherlock shook his head and headed downstairs. Lestrade was waiting in the hallway, glancing at his phone. He looked up on seeing Sherlock.

"All right, John coming?"

"No," Sherlock said.

Lestrade's eyes bugged out. "Really? What, he off at that bird's place again? Can't believe they're actually going out."

"No," Sherlock said. "He's tired. I thought I'd leave him be this evening."

"Hmm yeah. You two had a fight didn't you? Come off it, what happened?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Nothing, now don't we have more important matters at hand, like a case?"

"It's nothing crucial, so what happened? Don't you be trying to put me off, I know you and John have been all out of sorts for months. So what was it this time?"

"Just something about his girlfriend again," Sherlock muttered. "I suspect he's merely sexually frustrated and taking it out on me."

"Cor, don't say it that way, sounds pretty bad," Lestrade said with a grin. "John taking his sexual frustration out on you."

Sherlock stiffened. "I didn't mean it in that respect. I'm simply suggesting that things have been rocky between them and it has been causing John a certain level of…moodiness. Now, the case?"

"I'll tell you about it on the way. But seriously, nothing else besides the girlfriend problem? I swear John's been acting odd for a few months."

"No," Sherlock muttered.

"Seriously, I sent him that video of you when you were all drugged up and thought he'd laugh his ass off, but he seemed to get really angry about it," Lestrade said as he walked to the door.

Sherlock's brow furrowed, but he again couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation for such behavior. Perhaps John was angry with him then? Had he done something wrong?

Well, no point dragging it out. Sherlock followed Lestrade to his car, trying his best to stop thinking about John Watson for a few minutes.

However, as they were pulling away, he looked up to see John's face in the window. In the darkness he couldn't make out an expression, but the curtain pulled back a moment later and then the light flicked off. Sherlock felt something in his stomach twist painfully, and then Lestrade was pulling away from Baker street, and he did his best to forget.

Irene jerked up from the bed to the sound of her phone ringing. She groaned and managed to extricate herself from Kate's tight embrace, sliding out of the sheets to go and grab her mobile. She stared down at the number for just a moment before steeling herself and answering.

"Hello," she purred.

"Oh Irene, so glad I caught you. Thought you might be sleeping by now." His voice came in a singsong.

"No, I'm quite awake," Irene said.

"Oh you naughty naughty girl," he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Who've you been screwing this time?"

Irene glanced back at Kate still fast asleep. "Oh I can't even remember his name…not sure he would have had a chance to say it with the gag in anyhow…so it's really no matter. Now, what was it you wanted?"

"I'm wondering how you're coming on cracking that lovely code you promised me," he said.

Irene stiffened. "I've been a bit busy. Had some American chaps coming down on me, I'm afraid. But I am getting to it."

There was a chuckle that had goosebumps breaking out on her arms. "I thought we had a deal? I leave you the virgin and you gave me those codes."

"I said I'd give them to you when I knew what they were. And I'm afraid I don't quite have that aspect figured out," Irene said. "And besides, we both know you prefer him alive anyways. What fun is a world without Sherlock for a man like you?"

"Hmm, well a little tip on the Holmes boys, the Ice Man's pressure point is his brother. His brother's is—"

"John Watson," Irene Adler said. "I know."

She ran her fingers over her dresser, wondering if Moriarty was already aware of her little plan. Most likely. She wasn't sure that boded well for her or her boys.

"Good. I'm sure it shouldn't be that much of a challenge for you," Moriarty said. "Getting Sherlock to solve it for you."

"I will see to it soon. The Americans really have upset some of my plans, but I'm working on it."

"You'd better," he said. "Or daddy's going to get very angry. Daddy doesn't like waiting, Irene. You'd best get it soon."

Irene's jaw clenched. "I'm trying."

"Good. Maybe a little more time of that, and a little less time fucking that pretty redhead bitch?"

Her fingers curled tight around the phone, eyes darting towards Kate on the bed, naked and peaceful and oh so vulnerable looking.

"I have a healthy sexual appetite," she said. "Not all of us can be asexual psychopaths, darling, it simply wouldn't be practical."

"Well, it would be sooooo unfortunate if something were to…happen to her," Moriarty purred. "Get working on Sherlock. Wouldn't want to have her simply disappear."

"You touch one hair on her head and I'll—"

"You'll what darling? You just showed me your hand and you've got no cards left to play," he said. "So, why don't you just be a dear and get the job done for dear daddy Moriarty. Then you and your pretty plaything can have all the time you want."

"Fine," Irene said. He was right, she had no bargaining power anymore. However, a thought did strike her. "Though I think you'll appreciate if I take my time a little…you see…I'm trying to play a little trick on Sherlock…"

"And what would that be?" His tone was bored, but she knew she'd caught his attention.

"Why get him to admit he's in love with dear Dr. Watson?" Irene said with a smirk. "And I think in many ways that might just play out to your advantage, wouldn't it dear?"

Moriarty was silent for a moment. She bit her tongue to keep herself from making any noise, simply waiting. She looked back at Kate again. It was a risky move, and it was one she did regret in some ways. The Baker Street boys were supposed to be her pet project, and now Moriarty might decide to mess with it, but she supposed there were sacrifices she had to make. Her priorities needed to be picked.

"You have a month," Moriarty said. "If I don't have it by then…say goodbye to Miss Howard."

Irene nodded. "Fine," she said. "I'll have it in a month. A little Christmas present for you."

"Hmm…perfect. Have a lovely evening Irene. I hope to be hearing from you very soon."

Irene hung up without another word. She stood for a moment, considering. Risky, but it had worked. Now she had a month. It didn't seem like nearly enough time, but it would have to do.

She climbed back into bed, curling up around Kate, and sighing as she felt her partner relax into her embrace. Irene whispered a few soft nothings into Kate's ear before kissing her cheek.

"He'll never hurt you, my darling," she whispered. "Never."

A/N: Anyhow, so so so sorry again on long wait. If I find more inspiration for this I promise to try to post more frequently. Also, reviews definitely give me more motivation!

Thank you to DevilChild101, and ChuYumeAkirameru for reviewing!