A/N And this one has a bit of established relationship in it. I'm aware, re-reading, that it's a bit difficult to understand- the basic 'plot' here is that Mycroft has recommended Sherlock for international detective work. Whichever 'greater powers' might be involved in this are willing to hire him, but only after administering a controlled test to make sure that he's up to their standards (tying into the title, there). Again, doesn't make the most sense, but there you have it. And I've once more slipped up in my attempted daily updates, sdfghjutesf. I just keep freaking forgetting.

Thanks to johnsarmylady, 265, MapleleafCameo, Hummingbird1759, and Fayet

Disclaimer I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters, events, etc.

XL. Rated

"I hate it," Sherlock informs John quietly, his low whisper managing to stay sharp and angry. "There's no reason for them to do something like this. They know perfectly well that I'm able to work through any problem that they set up for me. It's pathetic, really."

"No, Sherlock, you know that you're able to work through any problem that they set up for you," John corrects calmly, holding the detective's gaze steadily. "You should be flattered. It's not often that an amateur detective is chosen for such a—"

"Amateur?" Sherlock repeats, his lips curling back in a disdainful grimace. "John, please. Do they not trust Mycroft's recommendation? I'm perfectly apt to—"

"This isn't your usual sort of work. This is international espionage, don't you get it? This is dangerous. They need to give you a test, make sure you're up for it."

"I am up for it."

"And you know that," John agrees, his voice laden with seasoned patience, "and I know that, but they don't, and what you have to do is prove them right. They'll set up their little mystery for you, you'll head in and blow all their minds, and then, before you know it—first-class ticket to whatever insane country they've decided you need to go to." There's an odd, bitter edge to his tone, though, and Sherlock draws his eyebrows swiftly together, detecting it immediately.

"You don't want me to succeed. You don't want me to go."

"It could be dangerous," is the mumbled reply, and John's expression turns evasive for the first time as he crosses his arms, staring out the frost-rimmed window of the messy flat. "It's… bigger than anything else we've ever been up against. Bigger than Moriarty, even."

"We're not going up against it at all. I am."

"Exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Sherlock," John mutters, "you're the genius here. Why do you think I'd be unhappy about you carting off to some foreign country alone, for some job from the government that they won't even tell you yet? For all I know, it could be… I don't know, you could be infiltrating some sort of terrorist cell."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock scoffs. "They have their spies for that. They wouldn't need me."

"You're better than the spies, though."

"John." Sherlock reaches forward suddenly, lays his hand over John's shoulder in an action that causes the shorter man to look up in surprise, his lips parted and his eyes wide. "I am going to be fine. Whatever they've chosen for me to do, I'll be able to get through it perfectly well, rest assured. The tediousness of this test is the only thing upsetting me, and it should be the same for you."

"Maybe I just don't like the thought of you having to go through it all alone," John offers darkly. "Not being able to contact me and all."

"I'll be back before you know it," Sherlock reassures him gently. For good measure, he draws the doctor into him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pressing a light, dry kiss to his forehead, holding his lips there for a long moment before drawing away. "I'll be fine."

"You'd better be," John shoots back, but there's a light smile teasing at the edges of his lips, and Sherlock can't help but grin back.