AN: Sorry about the lack of updates, I've been drowning in work D: Anyway I hope this chapter will make up for it ^^ (Key word being *hope* ^^;)

CHAPTER 13

The next 2 weeks were filled with more and more of Sherlock's attempts to "get" John, although he felt amused at first, the upcoming exam had stressed John out completely and he began to grow annoyed at his roommate. On one particularly tiresome day of work, John had been pushed over the edge,

"ARGH SHERLOCK JUST LEAVE ME ALONE FOR ONE MINUTE." John said as he woke up from his nap on the sofa to Sherlock, who was unbuckling John's belt,

"Just try it," Sherlock replied, "I'm sure you'd love it."

"I'M NOT GAY SHERLOCK!" John yelled as he pushed Sherlock's prying hands away, "AND I WILL NEVER EVER GO OUT WITH YOU, SO GIVE UP!" A look of genuine hurt appeared on Sherlock's face, and a pang of guilt filled John's chest. The long, dexterous hands pulled away from John's belt and Sherlock stood up,

"Sorry, you're right." A pitiful smile appeared on his face and he withdrew himself into his room.

"Maybe I was a litle harsh.." John thought to himself, "But it's best I told him... right?"

John spent almost the whole of the next week in the library as his exams drew nearer and nearer. As he filled his mind with disease mechanisms and treatment among other things, he though less and less of his quarrel with his roommate. Sherlock himself also grew more and more apathetic and stopped his forceful advances on John, who came home earlier as a result.

Sitting on the dining table, John tapped away onto his computer slowly and carefully, sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration. A clanking sound and a savoury scent emitted from beside his laptop where Sherlock had placed a plate of chicken curry.

"For me? Are you trying to seduce me again" John queried in surprise,

"It's just takeaway. Don't flatter yourself," Sherlock retorted with a cold sneer, which unexpectedly hurt John. He preferred Sherlock when he was mischievous and a little bit annoying; he seemed more genuine. But he did ask for it, I was for the better - right?

The uncomfortable silence of which the two had been eating in was disrupted by a distinctly pleasurable moan of a woman, which was followed by the aloof expression on Sherlock's face turning into one of dismay. He took his phone out of his pocket,

"What was that?"

"My... phone," Sherlock's tone was weary and he eyed his phone for several minutes before leaving the flat.

Days passed, and Sherlock didn't return. Regret and fear and guilt and concern all swirled in John's mind as he waited for his precious roommate. John completed his exams after two days of Sherlock's disappearance and he took a more active approach to locating Sherlock, but John didn't really know much about Sherlock's hobbies other than science and violin, but he dashed around London whenever he could, even though he knew for certain nothing would come out of it. It was another three days before anything happened.

John had been tucking into cereal as he cautiously watch the breakfast news, hoping for some sort of clue towards Sherlock's whereabouts, when a short, quick buzz of the doorbell caught his attention. He looked in the mirror to check his appearance: he looked atrocious. Scruffy, unkempt hair, paired with a stubble and dingy PJs didn't really shout "maintenance", so he smoothed his hair down and tied up his dressing gown in hopes to partially mask it. Opening the door, he was met with a stranger's face.

"Where's Sherlock?" She asked, or rather demanded. She was a fairly tall, beautiful woman with brown hair that was in a perfect updo. Delicate pearls draped across her neck and her clothed just screamed "rich". She looked a little bit older than the two roommates, but the well-applied makeup may have masked a couple extra years.

"I- I don't know,"

"Don't play games with me. He lives he doesn't he? I know he does, so bring him here."

"I said I don't know, he's been gone for days. Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell any old person who shows up, and especially not you." He said with scorn.

"Ooh, he's bagged himself a loyal one." She mocked with a sneer, "You must be John, or so I hear."

"How do you know who I am? How do you know Sherlock?" John said, irking at the sound of his own name. Her smile grew and she brushed her hand on his cheek, and he jolted uncomfortably as she did so,

"Oh, he hasn't mentioned me? Irene? No? How sa-"

"ANSWER THE QUESTION."

"How rude." she tutted, before returning to her smirk, "Well, I'm his first." The response abraded John, "I knew what he liked, fucked him, and got information on his brother," her tone was cold and unfeeling, "for protection." He swatted her hand away, and was filled with resentment,

"How could you." He scowled at her with a look more fierceful than any he had shown before, "What the hell do you want with him now?" he said with gritted teeth,

"I want him for keeps, now that I've tied up some loose ends," John shoved her onto the wall, tugging on her necklace and glared at her,

"You better not lay a finger on him." he said full of meaningful threat,

"Ooh, forceful, I like it." She jeered, and chuckled playfully, "I really doubt you'll do ANYTHING." She said as she raised her phone, "I've got protection." Her tone was calm, yet full of malicious intent, "and I know he'll say yes, because he still feels towards me whatever is the Holmes' equivalent to love." John let go of his grip and stood there helplessly as she made herself at home. John was alone with the despicable woman for until late in the evening, when Sherlock eventually returned.