Rating: K+ for mild language, some violence.

Warnings: Spoilers for 'Scandal in Belgravia'.

A/N: This scene from 'Scandal' is what started this whole fanfic. Admittedly, I really don't like this chapter, but until I get a better idea/replacement (comment/message me ideas!), it stays, unfortunately. Thanks for all the views, reviews, favorites, and follows! The next chapter will be much better, promise.

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the inestimable Moffat and the BBC and other people who aren't me. As always, a tip of the hat to ACD.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

One memorable time John punched Sherlock, he'd asked for it. Really.

"Punch me in the face," he'd said.

"Punch you." It was a question, but it sounded like a statement.

"Yes, punch me, in the face. Didn't you hear me?" Why was John stalling? He usually did whatever Sherlock asked without question, even if he did hesitate (sometimes) or complain (most of the time). Sherlock didn't have time to explain his plan to get into Irene Adler's house, but then again, he never had to explain his plans to John. John just followed along, content with explanations later.

"I always hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext." Oh. Well then. Sherlock had always admired John for his honesty, and often was puzzled at his seemingly boundless patience, but hearing your flat mate tell you he typically imagined you as a punching bag was a Bit Not Good. Did John really hate him that much? If he did, why did he stay with Sherlock? He filed the problem away for later, there were more pressing matters now. Such as getting punched in the face.

"Oh, for god's sakes," he muttered before punching John, nicely. He had really hoped it wouldn't come to this. First and foremost, it would ruin the Plan if there was a mark on John. And he really didn't want to hurt John. Ever. But for the sake of the Plan, he had to do it, to get John to punch him so that it looked like he was hurt.

John punched Sherlock, not-so-nicely. It hurt. And left a nice cut on his cheekbone. He'd have some nice bruises too, later. Perfect.

"Thank you that was, that was…" Sherlock stuttered. The impact had left him slightly dazed, even though he had been expecting it. John's knuckles looked like they hurt. Apparently he hadn't punched anyone for a while. Didn't mean he had forgotten how, though. John turned from his inspection of his bruised metacarpals. There was a dangerous glint in his eye, one that Sherlock had seen only rarely.

Suddenly, he was on the ground, in a chokehold, struggling to breathe. It had happened so fast even his reflexes hadn't been able to respond.

"Ok! I think we've done enough, John," he gasped. The first step of the Plan had been implemented, and he wanted to get on with the next part. Preferably without being murdered by his flat mate beforehand.

"You want to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier. I killed people!" Wait. That didn't make sense. John was in the army, true, was trained to handle a firearm, was a crack shot, still is, but a doctor of his caliber wouldn't have been risked by using him like a regular foot soldier. Right?

"You were a doctor!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I had bad days!" John replied before Sherlock managed to shake off his death grip and flee down the street to Irene Adler's house.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He was too wrapped up in trying to figure out The Woman that he almost had forgotten the John Problem.

Until she said, "Somebody loves you! If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid the nose and teeth too."

What? John didn't love Sherlock, he wasn't gay, that much was obvious to anyone who had eyes. Heavens, even Anderson could tell John was as straight as a 180° angle. But she was right, John hadn't wanted to punch Sherlock, had to be goaded into it. Why?

Then She became intensely distracting, and Sherlock put the John Problem aside.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It wasn't until later, when all the excitement had died down and the drugs had worn off that Sherlock thought about the John Problem in earnest.

After reviewing the footage of the initial discussion stored in his Mind Palace (right wing, second floor, fifth room on the left by the potted cactus, on the mauve table by the pudding) he came to the conclusion that John didn't hate him. Sarcasm. Sherlock spoke it as a second language, but with John, it was hard to tell when he was joking and when he was deadly serious.

If John doesn't hate him, then John must like him.

Flaky logic to be sure, but nothing else really explained the fact that John didn't leave after being kidnapped, threatened, arrested, beat up, and almost blown up because of Sherlock. He wasn't spying on him either, not for his brother and not for anyone else. He wasn't bored, anymore, he had a job at the clinic and an offer at Barts. It wasn't because of the limp, he knew how to take care of that now. And it wasn't because he needed to flatshare, he had enough money now to live on his own.

Also, The Woman said that 'someone' (John) 'must love you' (Sherlock).

Now the problem was one of semantics. What did she mean by 'love'? The definition in English was too broad. A person could 'love' a dog, 'love' fish and chips, 'love' a band, 'love' his girlfriend, 'love' the weather… it was ridiculous how many meanings the simple syllable had. Anything from sex to a passing fancy.

What about another language? Love. Amour. Die Liebe. Rakkaus. Kärlek. Szeretet. Milestiba. Meil. Sayang. Eros…

Ah. The Greeks had four separate words for 'love', each with their own specific definitions.

1) Eros: sexual love. No. Sherlock is asexual and John has a girlfriend.

2) Storge: familial love. Not likely, but possible. It could also be used to express a putting-up-with-you sort of love, which was definitely true of John, but it wasn't something that The Dominatrix would likely pick up on, so no.

3) Philia: friendly love. Perhaps. Sherlock didn't really have friends though… and John said he thought about punching him every time Sherlock spoke, which isn't what friends normally do, right? Punching people is usually a Bit Not Good, and The Woman wouldn't typically think about friends. Friends with benefits, sure, but not just friends, so philia was probably not the love she was referring to.

4) Agape: unconditional love. Maybe. John would and had done almost anything and everything Sherlock had ever asked, within and outside of reason. Unconditionally. And Sherlock had never really done anything in return.

That was something to ponder.