Warnings: AU!, spoilers to 2 season, swearing

now with beta!)))hurray)))

The realisation that people read his blog, left comments and instigated debates came very suddenly for John. When he had started describing in his entries the solved crimes which he had witnessed and had a chance to participate in solving, he really did not expect any response. There were only seven entries, all of which were in some way dedicated to the work of the world's only consulting detective. John just shared his observations and conclusions, although he could not afford to share even a half of what he really saw and heard.

"Who would have thought," he muttered.

John looked up from the screen of his laptop and listened to the usual quiet of their home. He could hear Mrs. Hudson was busy cooking downstairs. And judging from the characteristic sounds of clattering dishes, in about thirty minutes he would be invited for a cup of tea with freshly baked cupcakes.

He stretched and looked out of the window. In the window of the opposite house, the woman had always exhibited a large pot with a plant - he did not know its name - but every time he wondered, why she did it. Her recent tenants had moved out a week ago, she had not had new ones, and the old lady had to put and remove the plant from the sill herself.

Next to the pot, he often saw a saucer with milk. Sometimes two cats were next to the treat, gently pushing at each other and usually meowing loudly, demanding more.

Now the pot was in its usual place, as was an empty saucer. No cats though. John sighed sadly for no reason. He had always loved animals, especially dogs. But with his way of life it was just not possible for him to have a puppy, although he always wanted a bulldog. In addition, he strongly suspected that any living creature unlucky enough to be his pet would immediately became an object of Holmes' next experiment. Or even a series of experiments. And John did not know what was worse.

Every damn time he started thinking about the detective, he could not stop. John was endlessly annoyed with himself that even alone in his head he was still thinking about Sherlock Holmes, as if every other part of his life hadn't already been occupied by this man.

After his memorable conversation with Mycroft and the following confrontation with Sherlock, when he grabbed him and didn't seem to want to let go, the detective didn't attempt to take him to any case for several days. He just limited his requests to demands for tea and shopping for milk and some food. And every time John just stood quietly, put aside what he was doing and did what he was asked. The Army had taught him to follow orders without questions and now it was easier to focus on clear guidelines and uncomplicated actions.

Those evenings and nights that he spent with Bill, it appeared possible to have some change in his routine, but it did not happen often enough to distract him from his gloomy thoughts. John, with frightening clarity, realized something else besides the fact that half of Scotland Yard read his blog. The obnoxious detective inexplicably managed to make his life diverse and exciting. It frightened, alarmed and aroused in John a forgotten feeling of delight.

For several days, he tried to avoid Holmes, for the most part by simply sitting in his room. When it became unbearable to be within four walls, John went out to roam the city.

He had a lot to think about while sitting on a park bench and looking at passers-by. No matter what happened now, he knew one thing for sure – he was firmly hooked. Whatever the reason that he was needed by both Holmes brothers, from the moment Harry was moved into that expensive private clinic, he had had no chance to refuse them.

Holmes was absent all morning, so he had the opportunity to view in blessed silence all his new messages without being distracted by the persistent gaze of penetrating eyes.

A quiet rustle distracted him from his sad thoughts. Only a few people among his friends had the ability to get close enough to him and unnoticed until the very last moment.

"Is that you, Sherlock?"

"I have to disappoint you, John."

John spun around at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Mycroft. I…. I wasn't expecting your visit."

"I expected to find you alone, John."

John closed his laptop with a sigh and went to the kitchen.

"Tea?"

"Black. Without sugar."

Having dealt with the pleasantries, they sat apposite each other with steaming cups.

"What can I help you with?"

Mycroft silently handed him the folder from his briefcase for review and returned to his tea. John at first just flipped through the attached documents, then read each paper more carefully.

"I didn't know I had such an impressive resume. And exactly what position will I be applying for at this clinic?"

"Part-time doctor. In about two days, you will be invited for an interview. I don't think that with your skills and um… pleasant manners there will be any difficulty in getting this job. Your main goal will be that man in the photo. He isn't the patient; it's his mother, who he regularly accompanies. A laudable son's concern, I must say. Your task is to establish contact with him and gain his trust if possible.

John nodded Holmes' words. It was nothing new to him so he already began to plan the future operation.

"Who is this man?"

"He is the 'Mechanic' in Moran's team. Your shifts at Mr. Murray's will be made up so as to avoid arousing suspicion, but your main role is to draw as much of this man's attention as possible. The rest is a matter of time. But as soon as you are contacted, you will know what to do, John."

"You understand Sherlock won't be happy about this."

"I'm afraid that can't be avoided. And he'll just have to cope."

"Purely hypothetically… When this is over and my help won't be needed anymore…or otherwise, sooner or later he will be bored…of this arrangement. Then can I leave?" John suddenly asked. He was really interested.

"If it ever happens, you are free to do as you want. But until that happens you can't leave on your own."

"What do you mean if?" John looked around uneasily as if expecting the younger of the Holmes brothers to appear before them at any moment. "You.. Are you threatening me?"

"No. Hopefully that will never happen. Sherlock is so very angry with me for my intervention. Honestly, he is behaving like a child."

"Good. Excellent. Anything else?"

"No. You are coping well, my dear John. Now I need to leave. Thanks for the tea and your cooperation. Don't bother to send my regards to Sherlock; he will know that I met you. But pass on my best wishes to Mrs. Hudson. I think in 8 minutes you will be invited for tea with cupcakes."

"Good-bye, Mycroft. Glad to be of help."

"No-no, don't see me out," Holmes stopped his attempt to get up with a wave of his hand.

After Mycroft's departure, John spent some time carefully studying the documents left for him, then firmly stood and hurried to his room where he hid the folder in a box with his military uniform.

It was about ten minutes in the end when Mrs. Hudson called him for tea. The smell of fresh baking tickled his nostrils and teased his appetite, so of course, John could not resist the invitation. And he also had a rare opportunity to ask the landlady about Sherlock while he was not there.

Praising her really wonderful cupcakes, John tried as smoothly as possible to steer the conversation to what he wanted to know.

"A few years back my husband got himself sentenced to death inFlorida. And dear Sherlock was able to help me."

"Sorry, he stopped your husband being executed?"

"Oh no, he ensured it. That is why I was glad to help when he needed a place."

To this, John had nothing to say, it seemed the landlady didn't know a lot about Holmes, so they turned to a discussion of the latest TV show.

The business part ofLondonhad never been particularly interesting to John. Not that he didn't like it. But tall buildings with glass reflecting the clouds and people in business suits hurrying somewhere always made him sad.

Returning home, with his hands full of groceries and not waiting for any help from Holmes, John didn't expect to be needed to accompany the detective. And he really did not expect this day to end up full of discoveries and revelations.

John had repeatedly witnessed how Holmes was able to blend in the crowd or stand out depending on what was most convenient at that moment. But now, he just looked thoughtful, which meant that the case had the potential to be really interesting. John patted his pockets, he was sure he had brought a small notebook and pen with him.

"You won't need them."

"What?.. Oh, forget it." This time it seemed he would have to rely on his own memory. Which he did not complain about, but he did rather prefer to have the opportunity to record the thoughts that came to mind. And he could only guess why Holmes paid any attention to his note-taking.

Once they entered the spacious bright foyer, John tried to keep up with Holmes. He was not afraid of getting lost or doing something equally stupid in this situation; he was just uncomfortable.

They were promptly led along a corridor past the grey featureless walls, past the greedy eyes full of interest, past the quiet whispers only interrupted by occasional phone calls. They were, of course, being waited for.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sebastian."

Holmes exchanged a firm handshake with a tall dark-haired man who gave him a wide toothy smile.

"Hello, buddy. How many years has it been? 8 years since I last clapped my eyes on you."

He saw the strange handshake and exchange of glances. In addition, Sherlock did not bother taking off his gloves. John watched them, puzzled, until he was introduced by Holmes.

"This is my friend John Watson."

"Friend?" Sebastian, in John's opinion, looked quite naturally surprised.

"Colleague."

He did not know why he corrected Sherlock. Beside the fact that he really was tired of correcting people's assumptions that they were dating, he did not consider them to be friends. They could hardly be called even colleagues. But, of course, it was easier to think about their strange relationship as a partnership no matter how tenuous the terms of said partnership were.

"Right."

He immediately did not like Sebastian. And John did not like the way he looked him up and down, holding his hand for longer than normal. To some extent, this banker and Holmes deserved each other, but he had already got used to the detective. And people like Sebastian Wilkes were too far removed from the usual circle of people he chose to spend his time with. Add to this also Holmes' strange reaction to him, and John knew he did not want to spend more time in the company of this man than was necessary.

For the first time since his acquaintance with Holmes, John had a chance to find out what it was like to know Sherlock back into his youth and at university. Therefore, he listened to Sebastian's recollections with genuine interest.

From the corner of his eye, he saw that Sherlock did not look happy. Now he was able to read his behaviour a little better, it was clear that Holmes was also uncomfortable. This puzzled John. He already regretted correcting the detective, but John really didn't believe that they could be called friends.

"I'm glad you could make it over. We had a break in."

Now Sherlock was in his element. And John had just to follow his lead, doing his best to keep up with the pace.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it out, and we will pay you. Five figures."

Sebastian, with a practiced gesture, drew a pre-prepared cheque from his coat pocket.

"Tell me how they got in. There's a bigger one on the way." He gestured at the cheque.

"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian."

"He is kidding you, obviously. Shall I look after that for him?" John was not going to miss the opportunity not only to earn some money but also to empty the pockets of Holmes' former classmate.

Intuition was telling him that the case would be far more interesting than it might seem at first sight. Even to him, it was clear as day that the entry had not been organized to steal something. Someone wanted to leave a message. And John had no doubt that Sherlock would soon tell him who the message had been left for, if he correctly understood the examinations currently being carried out by the detective - and he was sure he did understand correctly.

Also he knew exactly why Holmes had lied to his former classmate about his trips and flights. As John suspected, it was in order to annoy, and he was right. On all counts. Sitting in the cab with Sherlock, John was already trying to figure what he would say to Bill if he called him unexpectedly. He really did not want to sacrifice a few hours of Bill's shift for this case or any case at all.

Van Coon, the man that Holmes had identified by logical deductions as the one to whom the message was addressed, as expected was not at home. It started to rain. John raised the collar of his jacket and put his hands in his pockets.

"What will we do now?"

John waited for Sherlock to surprise him again. And the detective did not disappoint him. Once they entered the apartment and found the owner to be dead, the only thing left for them to do was to call the police and wait.

Dimmock, in John's opinion, was a very promising officer. He hadn't worked with him before. But they could not be lucky enough to work only with Lestrade and his team all the time. And John was very pleased with the fact that Sherlock Holmes' fame had preceded him, so they were not simply kicked out of the crime scene as they should have been following the standard procedure.

John knew why Greg did not answer Sherlock's messages and calls. While lying in hospital after a bullet wound, he had better things to do then answering persistent messages from the displeased detective. He was just going to visit the DI if it was possible to find couple of hours in the evening, which he now strongly doubted. Since the discovery of the murdered banker, their new case was removed from the category of perspective and placed in the category of 'need to write about it in the blog" in John's mind. So now all his days until solving this case were marked as completely unpredictable.

When he sent a message to Greg, John did not expect to get an immediate answer. Well, at least it meant one thing for sure – he was still in Lestrade's good books, while Holmes was ignored.

Good. U have new case?

Perspective one. Pity u aren't here. JW

I'm flattered. But have no regrets. Miss only ur company.

John reread the message for several times doubting that he understood it correctly. The next one also puzzled him.

Good luck with Sherlock.

? JW

Newbie – pretty smart. Let's see how they'll get along.

New Inspector? JW

Dimmock. Bet they will get along.

As much as he could, John tried to hide the smile when the young Inspector politely but firmly put Holmes in his place. And he could not help but play along when Sherlock gave him a questioning look. It was enough just to agree that what happened was a suicide to give a reason for the detective to share his observation and theory of what had occurred there. John had not a slightest doubt that Holmes was right. As always.

The young Inspector was impressed.

"John!" He had no time to watch Dimmock, as Sherlock has already put on his coat and was heading to the exit.

He caught Holmes near the elevator. It was coming up too slowly for the detective's taste, so he went to the door leading to the stairs.

"Where are we going now?"

"We need to process some things and then you can go to visit Lestrade." Sherlock was pulling gloves and did not look at him.

"Ok…. How did you know it was Greg?"

"You looked far too pleased while typing painfully slowly on your phone. By the way, give it to me."

"But it could be anyone."

"Most often you receive messages from four people. Me, Mycroft," - while saying his brother's name Sherlock winced involuntarily. "Lestrade and Murray. And only to Lestrade's messages do you answer nodding your head in approval. And sometimes smiling."

John had nothing to say to that, he hadn't notice this about himself and well, he had no reason to do so. Holmes' observation was not unusual. He even, to some extent, had grown accustomed to it during those two months of living and working together. He handed his phone to the detective, belatedly wondering why he had been asked to do that.

"I also think we'll find common grounds with Dimmock. If he'll have enough brains to accept our help."

After another poor communication with Sebastian Wilkes, John realized two things. He should not have taken money from the banker. And the second – if the opportunity turned up, he would gladly hit the smug bastard. To have to put up with this man more than once in one day was simply not on. Of course, he- and the bank's managers were more than happy with the police's conclusion of suicide. That way, nothing was hanging over their reputation.

"All bankers serve to be heartless bastards," John said wearily, to which Sherlock only pursed his lips with displeasure. He credited that as agreement.

"Looks like I was wrong about Dimmock. The idiot has already happily reported to his superiors that it was simply suicide. The boss is happy, case is closed." Sherlock hissed the last words bitterly.

"I'm going to Tesco, then to Lestrade."

"You can tell him that I would prefer he was in charge here."

John just chuckled in response.

Once on the street, Holmes popped into the first cab, so John decided to save money and went to the nearest Underground station. Having joined the ranks of hurrying people, for a moment he felt lost and a little bit happy. Even to himself, he couldn't explain why, while breathing in the stuffy air of the Underground and jumping at sudden noises, he could not calm down and prevent his heart from hammering in anticipation. The new case promised to be interesting, even exciting. And if it would help to distract Holmes from the constant control over him, all the better.

In Tesco he struggled with the choice of what to take, adding a crossword book to the fruits and chocolate. If Greg's injury even slightly resembled his own rehabilitation state then John was pretty sure that the DI was dying of boredom in his hospital room.

The doctor in him tried to ignore the usual hustle and noise at the hospital. He hesitated for some long moments near the elevator but then finally pushed the button. White robes. White sterile rooms. White bandages. And the smell of medications lingering even when the gray walls of the hospital were out of the sight. John held his breath and strode inside.

Near the right door, a guard was sitting and reading the newspaper. He vigilantly checked his ID and only then allowed him to enter.

"Wow," - John whistled. "I didn't know that inspectors these days…"

"Don't say anything!" cried Greg. "Just don't. I honestly have no idea how this happened. My cover wouldn't include a private room or a guard near the door."

John hid the smile. He knew exactly who exactly was behind all this.

"Sherlock asked to pass on his regards and wish you a speedy recovery… Of course, in the usual Sherlock style."

John hated hospitals. He did not know if he could work in one if needed. It was rather ironic that in the dark back room of some club he felt more assured and comfortable than in a high-tech fully equipped sterile operating room. Therefore, the fact that he was going for a job interview in a clinic pleased him to no end.

To his surprise, the interview with his future boss, Sarah Sawyer, ended not only with his recruitment but also with the promise of a pleasant acquaintance. John didn't even bother to pay any attention to the displeased Sherlock.

"Where have you been?"

"I've applied for a job at the surgery."

"How was it?"

"Great. She's great."

"Who?"

"Um - the job."

"While you were spending time on Mycroft's request, we got new data. Have a look."

John scanned over the screen. His prescience hadn't deceived him, the case promised to be really exciting.

"Doors closed. Windows closed from the inside just the same as with Van Coon."

"God! You think…."

"He's killed another one."

"And what will we do next?"

"Let's visit our new inspector."

John pulled his jacket back on and ran down the stairs following Sherlock

They had only formally to convince Dimmock that the two murders were connected. He was a bright officer and he understood. Besides, the young Inspector had a very important trait that John appreciated – he was able to admit defeat and accept help, forgetting about his pride.

After five minutes with them in the apartment where the body were found, the young DI was given a chance not only to be rehabilitated in the eyes of his superiors, but to allow the investigation to move on. John chose not to intervene in the conversation between Dimmock and Holmes, he believed they could talk without his input. However, they really needed to find something to connect these absolutely different people.

When their trail finally led them to a girl named Soo Lin Yao and John saw the writings on the wall, everything finally fell into place. He really did not think that their actions would have such dire consequences. Soo Lin was doomed from the moment Sherlock saw two shiny pitchers instead of one. As was John's first date in several months.

He did not know what he had been thinking about; a serious – even any - any relationship did not interest him. But a sudden vision of the coming evening and being greeted only by a dimly lit apartment and the company of a sulking detective had prompted him to invite Dr Sawyer to go out with him. And though he had clear instructions to just look around, blend and if possible not to stand out, John had not seen any danger in one promising date.

He should not have been surprised. And he should not have changed his plans to visit the circus instead of the cinema. Somewhere deep inside he knew from the start that everything would end up like this - with fights and kidnapping on his first date with Sarah.

Eventually, they solved the case, put Sebastian Wilkes in his place and in the case of Sarah, John got new friend. And due to Mycroft's foresight, John was safe from an ASBO. But something still could not bring him to put the case behind him. And of course John knew, could never forget, what it was.

On his way to Barts, John stopped by a café and only then armed with hot coffee went to see Molly in the morgue. She was pleasantly surprised by his visit. He could not help but note how she was looking behind him in the hope of seeing Holmes. John was genuinely sorry for her, but in this situation he could not help even if he wanted to.

"Molly, I have a personal favour to ask."

"New hand for Sherlock?"

"What? No, God no. I'm here for Soo Lin Yao, the girl from the latest case involving the Chinese gang 'Black Lotus'. I understand if there are no relatives to claim the body, she will be buried at public expense?"

"Yes, John, you are almost right."

"She told... she told me was an orphan. And if her funeral won't be taken care of by her colleagues, I would like to do it myself. Can you do this?"

"Of course I'll put you in the form…. That's very noble of you, John."

John did not think so. Perhaps if he'd acted differently he and Soo Lin would have both been dead or perhaps he would have managed to help her. But now he would never know.

"Thank you, Molly."