A/N Set sometime after S1. Sorry, I know it's been a while. My Sherlock muse has been uncooperative for over a year now, but I'm still trying!

John slammed the door to the flat, then sat down, his anger evaporating despite his having spent the whole walk home stewing over it. He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand against his forehead. He was getting a headache, and the pile of bills on the table next to the chair wasn't helping. Since he now had no way to pay them, that is. Sarah had been apologetic as she told him, which was more than he deserved after the way he'd treated her and her business. Rationally, John knew that. He knew he had skipped his shifts just a few too many times, had left early just a few too many others. Besides, Sarah was his ex. His ex who he had broken up with, for all intents and purposes, because he'd valued his friendship with Sherlock over his romantic relationships. And his professional relationships. No wonder she thought he wasn't worth his paycheck.

John let his head fall into his hand. What was he going to tell Sherlock? In spite of everything they'd been through together, he was still here because they were supposed to split the rent. Were they going to have to move out? John didn't have anywhere else he could go; and he couldn't begin to imagine another place that wouldn't throw Sherlock out long before his probation period was over. It scared him, how little time had passed, and how he was already mentally considering Sherlock in every decision he made. It was like they were connected, and he didn't know how it had happened. Only that it was the first thing that had felt right in a long time.

"John? Did you get my message? There's an escaped convict and Lestrade predictably can't make heads or tails of it," Sherlock said, coming in from the bedroom at the end of the hall. "I - John? What's going on?" He'd obviously noticed something was wrong from John's expression.

"Nothing, I'm fine," John said quickly, although he knew his expression would be telling Sherlock the exact opposite.

"Really? Because you look like someone died. Don't tell me who unless it was a murder. I don't want any distractions," Sherlock said, sinking into his armchair, closing his eyes in the expression that indicated deep thought.

John sighed, "No one died, Sherlock. It's nothing."

Sherlock opened one eye, "I can tell when you're lying, you know. Something's going on."

"For God's sake, Sherlock, for once, can't you just let it alone!" John snapped. Sherlock stared back at him impassively, not even blinking, and John deflated. He wasn't angry at Sherlock, and lashing out would get him nowhere. "I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean that. Just, I don't want to talk about it."

Sherlock shrugged and went back to his thought process. John could tell it obviously didn't matter to him if John was in a bad mood or not. They remained there uninterrupted until Mrs. Hudson came bustling up the stairs with the dust mop. "Hello, boys!" she said brightly. "Nice day out, isn't it?"

Sherlock ignored her, and John sighed. Mrs. Hudson's looked at them sadly, "Something wrong? John? You're looking a bit peaky, dear."

"No, I'm fine, it's just -" John broke off and stood up. "Mrs. Hudson, I have to tell you something."

Mrs. Hudson looked up at him, "Oh, what is it, John? Did something happen? Did one of you get hurt?" Her expression grew a little frightened, and John was forcibly reminded of the time he had dragged Sherlock back to Baker Street with a slight concussion, yelling at him the whole time that he should have gone to the hospital instead. They'd nearly scared their landlady half to death.

"No, no, we're fine," John said, taking a deep breath. He might as well just get it over with. "It's just that, well, I've lost my job. At the surgery."

"Oh, John, I'm sorry," Mrs. Hudson said, patting him gently on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find something else."

"Hmph, I don't know," John said. "There aren't too many places that'll be too happy with me leaving constantly to take cases." He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, and resolutely didn't turn around. "I don't want to be an alarmist, but I don't know how long I'll be able to stay here on just my army pension."

"Oh, don't say that, John, you stay as long as you need," Mrs. Hudson said, her tones businesslike. "Like I said, you'll find something soon."

"Mrs. Hudson, you're a lifesaver," John said in relief. "Thank you so much."

Mrs. Hudson waved a hand, "Don't worry about it, dear. I don't know what I'd do without you boys up here. The house was too empty before." She patted his arm sympathetically again and went off to dust John's bedroom upstairs. John smiled after her before turning back to the living room, feeling considerably lighter.

"So, that's it. You lost your job," Sherlock said without opening his eyes.

"What?" John asked. "Oh, yeah." He sighed, "I guess I knew it was coming. Sarah and I haven't been together in a couple of months and I kept having to skip out on them."

"So what are you going to do?" Sherlock asked, opening his eyes and focusing on John.

John sighed, "I don't know, find another job? Like Mrs, Hudson said, there has to be something."

Sherlock waved a hand as if the rent was the last thing he cared about. "No, I mean, if you can't find something else?"

"Thanks for the endorsement of my chances of finding another job, Sherlock. That's exactly what I needed to hear, " John said tiredly. "Look, if you're worried about the rent, I'm gonna do the best I can. I can't promise anything though."

Sherlock sat up, "Well, I have a suggestion."

He didn't continue, and John watched him expectantly. "And?" he prompted.

"If you're going to keep helping me on cases, I was thinking, maybe I should...raise my rates, or something. To cover both of us," Sherlock said, in so matter-of-fact a tone that John was sure he must be hiding some insecurity as to what John's answer would be.

"So, what, I would be...working for you?" John asked uncertainly. He wasn't sure he liked it being that official. Helping Sherlock unofficially was one thing. Being Sherlock's employee was entirely another.

"What? No," Sherlock said quickly. "But I find your help...useful and if my clients are getting both of our help, then they should pay for us both." John stared at him in utter shock, having never heard Sherlock mention the financial aspects of his job before. He'd been halfway convinced that Sherlock wasn't even aware he was being paid to investigate anything.

"Like a...partnership?" John asked. "The Holmes and Watson Detective Agency? Hang on, do you even have a business name?"

Sherlock waved a hand dismissively, "Nothing so official. It'd be the same as we've been operating, only now you'd be paid for it." When John appeared to be considering it, Sherlock went on, growing more excited. "Think about it, John, you wouldn't have to turn down the cases I take abroad, you'd be able to work on the case's schedules instead of having to worry about getting to work in the morning. Isn't that better?"

"It...makes sense," John said, although until that moment, he'd never been sure that Sherlock knew about his other commitments. Not unless they interfered with what Sherlock wanted him to do, obviously. "Just so we're clear, though, I'm helping you. You're not my boss."

Sherlock grimaced, "Of course not. I've never been anyone's boss in my life." He grinned and John started to laugh. "So, is that a yes?"

"I guess it is," John said. "Thanks, Sherlock. That's a load off my mind, to say the least."

"Don't mention it," Sherlock said, leaning back. "As you said, you would have found something else."

John squinted at him in confusion, "And if I didn't?"

Sherlock shrugged, "I'm sure we would have found somewhere cheaper to live."

"We - hang on, you were gonna come with me?" John asked.

Sherlock shrugged, "Well, obviously I can't afford this place on my own, at least not yet, and my chances of finding another flatmate so agreeable to my…" he paused as he couldn't find the word, and then said, "eccentricities" at exactly the same time John interjected, "annoying habits?"

Sherlock glared at him, and continued, "As I said, my chances of finding another flatmate who wouldn't mind my eccentricities are minimal at best. And you wouldn't have been able to find anywhere affordable on only an army pension. It's simple finance, John."

"Yeah, sure it is." John smiled to himself as he picked up the newspaper. "I'm sure we wouldn't have found a Mrs. Hudson in the new place, though."

Sherlock's eyebrows rose in agreement, "No, but good landladies are so hard to find. Have I ever told you about what my last landlady said about me?"

John chuckled, "No, but I'm sure I can imagine." He looked around the room as Sherlock started in on the story, and smiled in contentment. Leaving home was always hard. He was lucky that, this time at least, he didn't have to.