Just a quick note to say, thanks to everyone who's reading! The votes and comments are very much appreciated, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! :)

(Apologies for any mistakes. I am the world's worst proofreader.)

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It took several days for John to get over the initial weirdness of his encounter with Sherlock, but after a long and rather cringeworthy conversation in which Sherlock ensured him there was nothing to feel awkward about, John was able to get past it.

However, what few boundaries that had existed between the two of them has seemingly been done away with, and it wasn't uncommon for Sherlock to parade around the flat in nothing but a robe, or on his particularly immodest days, a towel wrapped loosely around his narrow hips. As a result, John spent more time at Mary's, and though she seemed quite chuffed to have him around more, each time John saw her she seemed to be less and less happy to see him. Eventually it got to the point where a thick tension had grown between them, and John decided to address it one night while they were sat on her couch watching some dreadfully tacky romantic comedy. He could feel how tense Mary was with his arm around his shoulder, and when he'd decided that he couldn't ignore the elephant in the room any longer, he turned to her and spoke.

"Mary, I know something's been troubling you for a while now." She said nothing and kept her eyes trained on the television screen. "Mary..."

"It's nothing." If her tone of voice wasn't enough indication that her statement was a lie, the look in her eyes certainly would have made it obvious. John tightened his grip on her shoulder and leaned in closer, nuzzling her ear with his nose and making her giggle as she batted him away.

"Come on, tell me," he said, his voice soft and his eyes searching hers. Eventually she sighed and dropped her head.

"Well," she said with her eyes downcast, "It's just..." She took in a deep breath and finally met John's eyes. "I'm starting to feel like the other woman, John." It was then that John had muted the television and turned to face her, furrowing his brow as he watched her chewing on her bottom lip.

"What?"

"Well, you and Sherlock-" John gave a derisive snort and shook his head, pulling away from her slightly. He could tell where this conversation was going and he would be having none of it. For his girlfriend to even think that he would...

John shook his head. The very idea of it was preposterous.

"Mary, I'm not even gay. I'm..." John had started to tell her he was completely straight, but a few 'experimental' years of his youth prevented him from doing so. Still, that had been years ago and his curiosity had been satiated then. At least, that's what he always told himself. Even if it hadn't been, and even if he did get the occasional longing for the feel of a firm, flat chest pressed against his own and the light hint of stubble brushing across his jaw during a warm embrace or perhaps a passionate kiss, he was with Mary now, and he was fine with that.

"There's nothing going on between me and Sherlock." Mary sighed and shook her head slowly, staring down at the floor.

"It sure seems like it is."

"Mary, you're not 'the other woman'... and neither is Sherlock." John added the last few words almost as an afterthought, cringing slightly when he heard how ludicrous it sounded. Mary still seemed unconvinced.

"Think about it, John. I feel like I barely see you anymore and when I do it's for a few hours at most before you're running back home to your little boyfriend." She sighed and turned to face John, tucking her feet beneath her and grabbing John's hand. "Now I know it's been a while since you had a guy friend and I'm glad you've found someone who makes you so happy. I really am, but... I want to make you happy too." John used the hand Mary wasn't currently holding to cup her cheek and gently brushed his thumb along her chin and jaw.

"You do make me happy." Mary sighed and looked away, and John began wracking his brain for something to say that would fix this rift between them. "What do you want me to do?" A moment of silence passed before Mary chuckled quietly to herself.

"Let me watch?" she said, shrugging. She lifted her eyes smiled at John, who laughed and shook his head.

"You know what, my aunt's birthday is next weekend. How about you come with me to her birthday party?" Mary pulled away from him and practically glared at him.

"You're not serious. You think dragging me to some family member's birthday party will-"

"She lives in Venice..." Suddenly Mary's face lit up and she threw her arms around John's neck, hugging him tightly.

"What present should we get her?"
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"I still don't see why you're taking her!"

"Sherlock we've been over this before. She's my girlfriend-"

"And I'm your flatmate, which is basically the male equivalent of that!" John pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a slow breath.

"No Sherlock," he said slowly, "the male equivalent of girlfriend would be a boyfriend." Suddenly the angry scowl disappeared from Sherlock's face and a teasing smile took it's place. He sauntered up to John and threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"I could be that too, you know." John swallowed the lump in his throat and pushed weakly on Sherlock's side, trying not to think about what Mary had said.

"Stop that, would you?" Sherlock laughed and removed his arm, and John went back to making his breakfast. Moments later John felt a finger lightly running down his spine, causing an involuntary shiver to overtake his body. He felt Sherlock's presence behind him, and felt cool breath on the back of his neck.

"You didn't say no."

"For the last time, Sherlock, I'm not taking you with me to Italy." Sherlock huffed and stormed off into the living room, throwing himself onto the couch and covering his eyes with his arm. John, who was used to Sherlock's angry outbursts by now, simply brought his plate into the living room and placed it on Sherlock's stomach. He gave Sherlock a pointed look, then turned and went back into the kitchen to clean up. He hummed to himself as he worked, and after several minutes Sherlock came into the kitchen with an empty plate. He handed it to John, then hoisted himself up onto the counter and watched John finish washing dishes.

"Seems like someone was hungry," John remarked, smiling up at Sherlock as he dried off his hands. Sherlock shook his head.

"No. I just wanted to finish before you were done in here so I wouldn't have to wash my own plate." John sighed and rolled his eyes, but when he looked at Sherlock he spoke with no irritation in his voice.

"I've always loved your brutal honesty."

"Oh, well in that case-"

"Not now, Sherlock. My cab will be here any minute and I don't want to leave on a bad note." Sherlock stared at him with mock hurt in his face.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"Doesn't matter. It can wait until I get back." Sherlock's shoulders slumped and he stared forlornly at John, who smiled and ruffled Sherlock's already messy hair. Sherlock moved away and hopped down off the counter to follow John into his bedroom and sat on his bed while John did the last of his packing.

"I could be ready to go in five minutes flat."

"Sherlock, for the last time, I'm not taking you with me to Venice, and that's final." Sherlock threw himself back onto John's bed with an exaggerated sigh, and John pulled himself up to sit beside his feet. "Look," he said, "would you really want to spend an entire week surrounded by my middle aged family members drinking tea and making small talk?" Sherlock quickly sat up and narrowed his eyes at John. Eventually he sighed and rolled off of John's bed to stand up, somehow making the movement look graceful. Then again, almost everything Sherlock did was surrounded in an air of grace and elegance, John thought. Everything except for those slightly-adorable temper tantrums.

"Fair point," he said, casually strolling out of the room. John picked up his suitcases and followed after him. Sherlock was waiting for him at the front door, trying his scarf sound his neck. He smirked at John before grabbing his coat and putting it on.

"Actually, I think I'll start some experiments while you're gone. It's been a while since I've been able to, after getting kicked out of my previous flat and not being able to when living with Mycroft." John smiled at the way Sherlock's face scrunched up at the mention of his brother's name, making it seem as if it were the most volatile thing a person could say. John pulled on his gloves as a slightly-worrisome thought entered his mind.

"You know, you never told me what happened with your last living arrangement. Why did you get kicked out? Was it because of your..." John trailed off, looking down at Sherlock's arms, and Sherlock scoffed, clasping his hands together behind his back.

"No, John. I was not kicked out because of my drug use. And I'll have you know I've been clean for the last three weeks." John tried not to think about the fact that Sherlock had moved in over a month ago and instead gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"So what did happen?" Sherlock took in a deep breath and avoided eye contact, staring at the floor, the ceiling, the kitchen sink and anything except for John.

"That's a story for another day. As of right now, I've got some shopping to do as soon as you leave."

"Shopping for what?"

"You remember the week after I moved in you told me to make myself at home. Tu casa es mi casa, si?" John sighed and rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from chuckling. Sherlock smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I'll finally take you up on that offer." John sighed and pressed his palm to his forehead.

"I'm starting to think letting you into my home wasn't such a good idea."

"Oh, it was probably the worst thing your ever done." There was a moment's pause before Sherlock spoke again. "Do you regret it?"

"Not one bit." Sherlock's eyes cautiously met John's and he smiled shyly. John returned the gesture and turned around, opening the door. He reached down and picked up his suitcases, and Sherlock followed him out to the cab. John threw his bags inside the vehicle and turned to face Sherlock, who had his hands shoved into his coat pockets and was staring down at the ground with a frown on his face. John took a step closer and placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders.

"Hey," he said softly. Sherlock lifted his gaze only slightly, and John felt a tugging at his heart strings when he saw the despondent look on Sherlock's face. "It'll only be for a week, alright? I'll be back before you have time to miss me." Sherlock shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking down again.

"I doubt that." Sherlock sighed, then in one swift movement he engulfed John into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of John's neck as he snaked his arms around he shorter man's waist. John hesitated for only a moment before he brought his arms up and looped them around Sherlock's neck and pulled him closer. Though the hug was rather fleeting, the tingling feeling it had left John with was anything but. Even as he was sat beside Mary on the airplane with her head on his shoulder, he could still feel the way Sherlock's slender fingers had trailed along his sides when they had parted.

Later that night as John lay awake in bed, beside Mary who was sleeping soundly, he couldn't stop himself from wondering what Sherlock was doing, and if he was playing his violin, or if he had already started on one of his experiments. John carefully slid out of bed and began pacing in an effort to to tire himself out so he could go to sleep. He was startled by a quiet buzzing sound he heard, and after several seconds he realized it was his phone sitting on the night table. He quickly grabbed the device and held it to his ear without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"John? Why are you whispering?" John could feel his entire body relax when he heard Sherlock's voice on the other line.

"I'm whispering because Mary's asleep and I don't want to wake her."

"Oh are you two sharing a room? Sleeping in the same bed? How scandalous!" John could practically hear the smirk in Sherlock's voice.

"Shut up." He began pacing again and kept his phone pressed firmly against his cheek. "Why are you calling so late?"

"Well I um... I can't find the, uh..." John heard him sigh, then take in a deep breath. "Where do we keep the extra pillows? This couch is killing my back tonight." John sat back down on the bed, suddenly feeling much sleepier.

"There aren't any. Just sleep in my bed." He could hear Sherlock's gasp, and tried not to laugh. "Try not to sound too excited." Sherlock chuckled, and John's shoulders shook as he laughed silently. "You know, for a second there I was thinking you called because you missed me." When he didn't receive a reply John suddenly panicked, thinking he had somehow said something inappropriate. "I mean-"

"Relax John, I was just focusing on not dropping my violin or blankets while carrying them into your room."

"Oh." John's mind drifted to thoughts of Sherlock and his violin, and how he had gotten so used to hearing it each night, and sighed.

"You know, this might sound crazy but... I can't seem to be able to fall asleep without hearing that bloody violin of yours."

"Oh really?" John could hear the faint sounds of shuffling, then silence, followed by the mellifluous sound that only Sherlock's violin could produce. It was the last thing John remembered hearing before falling asleep.