A/N: Thanks to all who took the time to review the last chapter of this humble work; my nerves are mostly gone but that may just be from sleep deprivation… either way I'm still immensely grateful!

I feel terribly that this is updating so slow; school starts soon (four… days… kill me now, please) so just pity me and pray for my sanity. To make up for it, these two parts are uploaded back-to-back! Here is the first, enjoy!

Jealousy; Part 1

As soon as John walked through the door, Sherlock could tell something was amiss.

Of course he could tell; it was no real mystery and if it was a puzzle it was a dull one. There were clear signs; John wouldn't look at him [guilty?], he failed to say anything more than a timid, quiet hello [nervous?] and, most tellingly, there was no kiss.

The doctor always, without fail, gave Sherlock a kiss – whether it is on the cheek, temple, hand, etc. - upon leaving and coming home. At first it had been baffling to the detective; just another tediously sentimental activity the shorter man partook in. Sherlock had failed to notice exactly when that particular habit had taken hold of him as well. He had decided since that it wasn't terribly tedious after all.

Today, though, the routine had been broken. This could not be allowed.

"John," the detective gauged the response to the call: his lover had jumped at the sudden sound [lost in thought]; had hummed brokenly [noncommittal response, avoiding speech]; hadn't bothered to turn around from the stove where he had put on a brew [afraid?]. This was becoming annoying.

"Tell me."

John knew an order when he heard one.

Still, he didn't feel terribly joyous at the thought of having this conversation… "I was… attacked today. At the office..."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow inquisitively at the jumper-clad back, "really?"

Walking to his chair John took a long drink of his tea – wishing desperately it was something stronger – and swallowed hard. "Mm, yeah. Nothing big. Just a confused… intern…" with a tight lipped smile, the doctor brought the mug up to his lips once more.

"It looks more like you were kissed than attacked."

John succeeded in chocking on the tea he had just drank and proceeded to cough harshly before sputtering out, "Sherlock, what-"

"Oh, John, give me some credit. The right side of your lips along with the corner is unnaturally red in tint, suggesting lipstick being wiped to the side. Your face is also blushing more than usual, you're acting nervous and you've avoided any kind of interaction with me since arriving." The voice dropped another octave, "Now that we have the evidence in order, would you mind telling me the specifics of this attack?"

Staring at the intense silver eyes, which seemed now as deadly as red-dot sight on sniper rifles, John could feel his heart racing. Why? It wasn't like he had done anything really wrong.

Quickly, and perhaps a bit desperately, John explained: the new intern Wendy had been flirting with him incessantly for about a week and while he had tried to kindly putt her off, she had failed to take the hint. It had gotten a bit heavy the last few days but with no real consequence; then she had asked him to help her go over some files...

Sherlock thought even John could have seen the goal in that age-old strategy, but he decided sharing that opinion might have been a bit not good.

He waited patiently as the doctor finished his story, informing him that yes; Wendy had affectively jumped him and attacked him with a kiss. John said he had immediately sat the young lady down and told her he was already in a relationship, with a man for that matter, and she had taken it very well. She had apologized and promised that it would never happen again.

The expressionless detective wished vehemently she had been thoroughly heartbroken.

Having finished the tale, John dared a glance at his lover. The angular face was blank, lying atop steepled hands. This could have been taken as a good sign but the intense eyes were narrowed and the ashy-blonde man could feel the all too familiar heat of them almost leaving burns on his skin. He was surprised when the deep voice rumbled out, "and you're going back into work tomorrow, are you not?"

"Ahh, yes… I've got surgery in the morning, but-" John's had a speech ready to reiterate the point that the hormonal intern had assured him, had indeed promised, that it would not happen ever again.

Unfortunately, John could only sputter, staring with wide blue eyes as Sherlock jumped off the settee and, quick as a cat, moved to kneel in front of the shorter man.

What the…