A/N Just because he would.

Thanks to johnsarmylady, sparrowismyhummingbird, Guest, Song of Grey Lemons, total-animal-lover, linguisticRenegade, muffinlover18, and Motaku1235

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

LXXVII. Test

"This is going to cost quite a bit, you know," John growls as he signs the creamy sheet of official-looking paper in front of him, caps the pen and slides it across the wide desk. The impeccably-dressed woman sitting behind him accepts it and shoots him a disapproving look over her horn-rimmed glasses, adding the paper to a stack and straightening out the edges with a disgustingly spiffy air.

"Hardly. It's not as if I was in there for murder or anything," Sherlock scoffs in response. He tugs at the sleeves of his suit as the two of them turn away from the counter.

"Vandalism isn't really light stuff, Sherlock. And our budget isn't infinite, whatever you might think."

"Mycroft will pitch in if it's too overwhelming," he assured the shorter man crisply. A light smirk is tugging at the edges of his mouth as they begin their walk down the jail's hall, their feet echoing loudly on the linoleum floor.

"What're you so happy about?" John asks suspiciously. He, for one, is far from any positive emotion, considering that he's just spent a good deal of his personal money bailing his flatmate out of jail for an absurd incident involving a diamond that he'd wrongly suspected to be embedded in the walls of a rather high-placed citizen's mansion-like house. Sherlock's attempts to unearth the jewel had been far from neat, and resulted in a stunning repair bill, not to mention his two-day situation in prison that he'd been too impatient to put up with.

"You," Sherlock replies simply, almost cheerfully. "I asked you to bail me out, and you did so without hesitation."

"Only because you never would have shut up if I didn't."

"Yes, but don't you understand? You did it, you succeeded. I was testing you—"

"Wait." John stops walking inches from the door, holding a hand up and frowning slowly. "Testing me? What the hell do you mean, you were testing me?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, John; the word doesn't have that many meanings."

"You were testing to see if I'd bail you out of jail?"

"You've been a spectacular companion so far," the detective points out in an almost offhand way, reaching forward to push the door open himself, "and I had to check how far you'd go to assist me. As it seems, you passed with flying colors."

"So… so you're saying that you intentionally got yourself put in there just to see whether or not I'd pay half my month's salary to haul you back out?"

"Don't exaggerate." He steps outside into the sunlight, which illuminates the cloudless blue sky and sparkles on the cement. A clear day is rare for London, and John finds himself squinting against it. "Besides, I told you—Mycroft will help out if it's too much."

John searches for words, but failed to find them, and suffices to simply shake his head in disbelief as he follows Sherlock into the warmth of the outdoors.