Hey guys, I hope you've been enjoying the fic so far. This chapter was a little late coming, and I'm sorry for that. The past couple of weeks have been rather hectic, and inspiration has only been coming to me at really bad times. However, I had time to plan out the rest of the story, so at least I know where we'll be going :D Looking at nine or ten chapters, k?

Unfortunately, the uploads for this fanfic are going to be somewhat sporadic. I'm back in school, and in my final year, which of course means the Leaving Cert exams. I'm afraid priorities are a thing.

Anyhoo, thanks for the good feedback y'all have been giving, do keep in touch. Pyro out.

The Science of Deduction- A Study in John's Taste in Women

"John, I was doing you a kindness."

"Yes, Sherlock, because that was kind."

John angrily jammed his key into the lock of 221B, making sure the sharp chack reverberated and made his anger vividly clear to his flatmate. An acidic wave of tension crashed down on Sherlock's head as he followed John upstairs. The thumping of his harpoon was drowned out by the doctor's heavy footfalls, a sure sign that there would be no tea waiting for him in the morning.

And yet, there on the coffee table the next morning, Sherlock's favourite teacup sat, steaming serenely. He eyed it questioningly for a moment, but dismissed his curiosity and sat down to enjoy it as he always did. He reached for the newspaper and was about to start reading, when he noticed the date. From yesterday. Which meant John hadn't left the flat yet. How rare.

So where was he then? It wasn't like John to be in the flat and not hover around Sherlock. Sherlock was always orbited by John, which was quite understandable, the detective was the centre of the Universe after all.

He went on the prowl.

Not in his own room.

Not in Sherlock's room.

Not having tea with Mrs. Hudson.

Not passed out in the kitchen.

Not hanging out the windows.

John exited the bathroom, clad in his usual dressing gown, to meet his flatmate fiddling at the lock with a hairpin.

"Picking the lock to the bathroom again."

"I couldn't find you, and this was the final option."

"You couldn't have, I dunno, knocked, no?"

"I thought you may have passed out."

John frowned until his eyebrows knitted into one. "Wuh…?"

"You haven't gone to buy the paper yet," he explained. "I thought you may have hurt yourself, as you haven't attended to your daily routine."

John pushed his way past Sherlock lightly, and made his way to the kitchen where his own tea awaited him. "I feel like taking it easy today, after last night." He glanced pointedly at the detective. Sherlock folded his hands behind his back and paced quietly to the window closest to his chair. A strange silence fell between the two for a moment, not quite awkward, but not completely companionable either. The tension snapped with the blogger clearing his throat and straightening his back to ask a question that had been scratching at his mind since he lay down to sleep a few hours earlier.

"If Tina was a lesbian, Sherlock, why did she agree to date me? Free food?"

Sherlock tilted his head, still facing away from his friend. "More than likely a stunt to give the impression of being heterosexual. A mother pressurising her into finding a long-term partner, thinking she's straight, perhaps. Might as well go along with that to make her happy. I'm fairly well-versed in situations like that."

John paused and rewound. Oh.

"So your mother, she doesn't know you're…" He trailed off, and Sherlock turned slightly, expecting a complete question. "What?"

"What?

"What are you asking?"

John drained his cup in embarrassment. "Never mind."

Thankfully, Sherlock's phone shuddered noisily on his desk. He walked lightly over to it and sped through the text. A sheer grin spread across his features.

"Lestrade is out of his depth again, it would seem. A mysterious house fire. Excellent stuff." His mobile was thrown unceremoniously onto the couch. "Get ready John, we've got a case."

He began to exit the room, but reversed when he heard John huff quietly. The doctor hadn't budged.

"Oh, you're not seriously still angry at him are you?"

John stayed resolute in his silence.

"Oh, honestly." Sherlock continued out the door.