AN: So hey.

I decided I was letting you guys and therefore myself down by not posting nearly often enough, especially since I don't start college for another two days. So you get another update today, yay!

This is from a prompt by Trakrat, I'm running out again so we may be back to chapters about my life soon. You've all been warned.

Lily

Sherlock hugged me around the waist and said coaxingly, 'But it's for a case John! Just one night I promise...'

I folded my arms and continued to refuse to look at him 'I still don't want you doing this Sherlock!'

He pouted and ran a hand up my back 'He might not even be a murderer John, I really don't see what your objection is.'

I gritted my teeth and continued facing away. I supposed I had been seriously punching above my weight when I had expected the... relationship between myself and Sherlock, to include only myself and Sherlock. To any normal, rational person, that may not seem like an overly complicated demand, but as I was warned about when I met him, every relationship Sherlock has had has included him, another person and The Game.

Normally, I was fine with it. I'd gotten used to playing second fiddle to random corpses and cold cases, but this one was different. I had no idea what he'd done, I'd been away when the body was found, but I'd returned to find Sherlock in our living room, staring once again at the mirror which was covered with various scraps of paper and a small bit of a CD, and to the news 'I've got a date, John.'

Needless to say, I did my fruit loop. When Sherlock had calmed me down, he explained that he'd been flirting with the guy who they thought had committed the murder to try and get close to him. He'd eventually been asked out on a date and would be wearing a wire throughout the encounter.

'Why didn't you just say that you git?' I had wailed, slumped in my chair as he knelt in front of me. 'Christ, you are not good for my blood pressure!'

In the present day, I had sworn three days ago that I was fine and that I honestly didn't care whether Sherlock went on a date or not. But increasingly as the day grew closer, I had become increasingly not fine.

I sighed down at Sherlock's baby blue puppy-dog eyes. 'I'm sorry Sherlock, I just don't like it.

He sighed and sat up. 'Then you leave me no choice.' He said sadly, I squeezed my eyes shut Oh God... whined an internal voice this is it. He's going to leave you; you knew you'd never be able to hold onto him...

'Come with me John.'

What? 'Sorry, what?'

'Come with me. I'll be wearing an earpiece and a radio, sit outside in the car with Lestrade and tell me what to do. As you are aware, I cannot flirt even remotely. I will be requiring some... assistance...'

I smirked annoyingly 'Sorry, can you repeat that for me?'

He huffed and looked away 'I need your help John.'

'One more time.'

'No.'

'Oh go on...'

'Shut up and come here.' He said serenely.

So, for my sins, I found myself stuck in a freezing police car with Lestrade, Donovan and a whole load of technology I didn't understand. To be fair, they were fairly good companions and as it was leading technology in policing, it all had Tetris and Donovan had some cards. I actually had trouble keeping my mind on the job, but as soon as I saw Sherlock walk in and shake hands with a young man, I forgot all about playing poker and focussed on his date.

He was a fairly unassuming looking young man, with red hair and dark jeans. Tall as Sherlock but not as skinny, he looked far more like someone Sherlock would go for than me. My heart plummeted into my shoes as Greg wired me up to a radio.

I smiled my and listened to the general conversation coming through my earpiece. After a little while, I heard Sherlock cough gently, our signal that he needed help. I floundered for a while, but eventually said 'Talk about the news, get him talking about the case.'

I heard Sherlock's relieved small talk take a different turn. I turned back to the computer screen to observe them. Big mistake.

Sherlock's date was leaning slightly in over the table, toying with the rim of his wine glass and talking every so often. Sherlock himself was also leant in, but looked less love struck and more keen, in the five minutes I watched the screen, I saw Sherlock subtly top up his date's wine glass twice. Clever, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Another hour later, we were all bored. Sherlock hadn't managed to get anything interesting out of the man, despite putting two bottles of wine into his blood stream, and the only advice I'd been able to give was 'Tell him you like his jacket.'

Donovan was curled up under my jacket and Lestrade had gone for a fag, so it was left to me to cover the radio. Suddenly, in my ear I heard

'Hello? Hello Lestrade?'

I pressed the PTT and said 'Yes Sherlock, what is it?'

There was a snort and Sherlock said 'I know he's trying to forget something, the excessive drinking and aversion to talking about the news would suggest it, he has ink on his hands, a band of white skin on his left ring finger and he's been talking about nothing but his career all night, no he's not the murderer, but he had something to do with it. Oh and he's cheating on his wife with me.'

I ground my teeth in frustration at the distant figure of Lestrade, quietly smoking against a wall. 'Look can't you just... try and get him to open up a bit more?'

'Really? Are you sure?' he asked doubtfully.

'Yes, just slip it in there. Mention the victim's name, try and get close to him.'

Upon reflection, that was quite a stupid thing to say. Sherlock was a damn good actor when he wanted to be and I really should have thought about that when I told him to 'get close to him.'

I watched with a slight sense of dread as Sherlock sat back down at the table. Despite having at least a litre of alcohol in him, his companion didn't seem that drunk.

After a bit of small talk, Sherlock casually said 'Do you know Janie Lauley? Used to work for YSL in London?'

The man opposite him twitched slightly, before smiling tightly and saying 'I can't say I'm very familiar with the name. Why do you ask?'

Sherlock smiled and let his hand ghost across his companion's knuckles. 'Well dressed man like you?' he said, pouting slightly 'I thought you'd be certain to know her.'

I clenched my fists slightly and tried to breath slowly and calmly, Sherlock was cooing over this man again in my ear and I just barely resisted the temptation to tear the bloody thing right off. I didn't even pay attention to the slightly suggestive conversation over the earpiece, instead electing to moodily play brick breaker on Lestrade's laptop.

Suddenly, I heard a soft drunken slur come over the line.

'I'll tell you a little secret...' the voice slurred and I pressed the record button on the laptop in front of me.

'I did know Janie.' Came the soft voice over the tinny speakers.

'Really?' murmured Sherlock

'Yep. She was my wife's friend. Bit more than friend actually.' I watched the young man slump back in his chair. 'I found them together, you know. Linda told m-me it had been going on a little while. I sent a letter to that slut's husband.' He snarled 'And next thing I know she's dead.' He sighed 'I didn't tell the police that. Don't wanna go to prison...'

Sherlock smiled slightly, 'Don't worry mate. Can you tell me what you wrote?'

I threw the car door open and yelled 'Lestrade! You'll want to see this!'

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock was walking out the back door of the restaurant, his partner having been politely asked if he wouldn't mind answering a few questions. Lestrade wrung his hand and thanked him.

'Piece of cake.' He replied casually.

As we wandered home, Sherlock stopped me and said 'Look John, you do know that was all play acting don't you?'

I shrugged 'You seemed very comfortable tonight.' I replied bitterly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed 'Please John. He was so boring. Not my type at all.'

I mumbled something about him being far more suitable than me. I may or may not also have made a childish comment about height.

Sherlock made a noise like an angry cat, rolled his eyes and pulled me in by the lapels of my jacket and kissed to within about an inch of my life. He dropped me a couple of inches and growled 'Stop being childish. We both know you're the only one who will even remotely put up with me.'

And that, ladies and gentleman, is just about as close as Sherlock gets to saying 'You are my one.'

I walked away from the, frankly foul mouthed, woman yelling obscenities out of her front room feeling extremely happy. 'What was his name anyway?' I asked vaguely.

Sherlock smirked 'Benedict.'

I laughed and made a face 'Benedict?' I asked incredulous.

'Yes. He was rather posh.' Sherlock said, wandering off.

I stared after my Harrow educated, aristocratic boyfriend. 'Idiot.' I muttered, following.

AN: Hahaha, Ladies and Gentlemen, that is what you get when you try to update and instead find yourself watching the Last Leg. I love that show. ParalympicsGB!