Sherlock briefly looked up from his phone and rolled his eyes. "John is living off my wages."

Conversation between the man in question and a well dressed brunette halted as that information sank in. She politely excused herself and headed for the bathroom, escaping for the night in a cramped cubicle.

John slid his glass over the counter and signaled for another. "What was that for? She was nice."

"She seemed under the impression that you were wealthy." He pointedly looked him over. "I can't tell why exactly she would come to that conclusion… But I wasn't about to let my best man be led on by a gold digger."

John snorted and downed his second shot of the night. "Can't believe you just called her that. Didn't think you knew such a term existed."

The taller man slid his elbows over the bar and leaned back. "You'd be surprised by the things I know." John didn't miss the slow blink.

"Nah. You're Sherlock Holmes, you know everything." He calmly slipped the bills to the barman and made to walk out, ignoring the thumping of his heightened pulse.

Did he imply what I think he did?

God, he did, didn't he.

oOoOoOoOo

"My my John, what happened to all those claims of heterosexuality?"

He spluttered and tripped on a crack in the footpath.

"What?! What on Earth are you talking about? I'm not gay and you know it! You know it very well!"

"Yes, yes." Sherlock fixed his gloves back onto his hands. "No doubt the transvestite you were flirting with believed that as well as I do."

John stopped in his tracks and turned around, squinting back at the woman he had been speaking with. She still looked very much like a woman. "I don't see it."

"The shoes. Heavy duty heels for masculine figures. Also the fabric of the dress she's wearing stretches and therefore gives us a good view of the waistband of her underwear. There is a gay club two doors from the crimescene. Did you really not notice the voice?"

"...I see."

oOoOoOoOo

"She's possibly the most stupid woman you've ever dated."

John's forehead leaned into the passenger window in dismay. Stuck in a car for three hours outside a B&B for what could quite possibly have been the most mundane case they'd ever taken. Not his idea of an ideal evening, particularly when a certain six foot, thirty-three year old child was in a strange mood. He fiddled with the seatbelt hanging loosely beside him and wished he had the willpower to strangle himself with it. What had he been thinking, suggesting a stake-out?

It gave him no desire to argue with Sherlock anymore.

"You're right."

Sherlock twisted minutely in the driver's seat and bent forwards to rest his forearms on top of the wheel. "Oh? That's new, coming from you."

"Yes well, yesterday she wanted me to go over because she had locked herself into her own apartment. The key was in the bloody lock. There's no going back after that."

The detective chuckled in triumph and directed a shining smile at his friend. "Nice to see you're coming around to my way of thinking."

"I don't think I'll ever be close to your way of thinking."

A fleeting movement from through the condensation-covered windscreen caught Sherlock's attention and he reached for John's shoulder, pointing out their prey.

"Oh, I don't know. I can see you getting there someday." With one last excited grin, he swung the door open and shot out into the evening, his companion close on his heels and elated from Sherlock's off hand compliment.

oOoOoOoOo

Morning arrived undisturbed by yelling, ringing or mild explosions in the kitchen. Instead the soft buzz of commuter traffic built in undulating waves until John was pulled gently from sleep. He wriggled further under his duvet, chasing the heat it offered before he resigned himself to his daily duties.

Today was going to be great. The doctor had plans with a dashing woman he had met downstairs in Speedy's (her name was Alice as far as he could remember- he had been a bit tipsy on Sherlock's expensive brandy) and the flat was promised to be free from strappy detectives. Dinner, film, possibly some trashy TV. A nice shag if things went really well.

The warmth and quiet really were tantalizing. John found his hand wandering southwards.

Until knuckles rattled against his door.

"John, get up! We're getting on the train in forty minutes, you need to pack our bags!"

His hand shot back to a fist on his chest. Wait-

Our bags.

"What the hell are we getting the train for?! I've got a date tonight; I'm not leaving!"

The door nearly flew off its hinges when Sherlock came storming through and flung himself onto the mattress, all pyjamas and floppy curls.

"Yes but Jooohn, it's Major Barrymore!"

"Who- Ooooh no. No, we are not going back to Baskerville. Not in a million years."

There was frantic shuffling to fix himself below the covers as the detective moved to the window and threw open the curtains, sending streams of unbearable light piercing into John's vision. "Yes we are. It's important. Big case. It'll keep me going for the whole weekend if we're lucky." The unmistakable sound of his flatmate routing through his drawers drew a grimace on the blogger's duvet-hidden face.

"Put those things back! I'm not going!

-Later-

John found himself wishing he had brought his ipod. There was something overly eerie about how quiet Sherlock could be when driving. The silence, which had been welcomed that morning, just seemed very dead now that they were surrounded by fields and cows (Which Sherlock insisted were the worst thing about the countrside. "Loose cows, John! Farmers are so unconcerned about their cows running wild! What is wrong with the world?!").

"I don't suppose you've got music on your phone?"

The only answer was the clicking of the indicator light as they moved off onto a side road.

"Never mind then, I'll just try to sleep the rest of the way."

Sherlock responded with a grunt of disapproving acknowledgement. John made himself comfortable against the window and curled up his legs.

He woke an hour later to Skillex blaring from the car radio and Sherlock with noise-reducing ear muffs on.

Firstly, I want to offer my most sincere apologies. I really didn't think so much time had passed since I last updated this. Bless Emily for being a wonderful beta yet again, and for this gift of a chapter title.

Baskerville eh? That surprised even me. But there is a point to all this. It will become clear as the arch progresses. You're into the big stuff now. Question: I'm from Ireland, yeah. For the sake of accuracy which will be important in the next while, I was thinking of having the boys take a trip. Just Dublin, nothing fancy. That okay with you? It's really kind of a big thing and I need you to be good with this. Otherwise, well, a good bit of the massive plot line will be filled with holes. Location, location, location.

I should say as well, I'll be editing the whole story in the next while before I post it on Ao3. My username is square_orange if you want to follow the changes.

Oh, and to Johnlocked86- I wasn't able to reply, but in answer to your question, yes. Very yes and abso-fuckin-lutely. And I am very glad that you're enjoying it :D