Hello, there! This isn't the first piece of fanfiction that I've written, but it's the first one for Sherlock. And the first multi-chapter one, it seems. I hope this doesn't destroy the creative beauty that is Sherlock which, by the way, was created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, adapted by Moftiss and licensed by BBC.

John Hamish Watson never did feel comfortable whenever people talked about him. He was very aware that there will never be a shortage of people who do. John knew exactly what they (and by they, he means the local detectives at New Scotland Yard and overeager journalists) were talking about – his relationship with his flatmate was far from ordinary, and he also knew that the bond he had with Sherlock was far stronger than the bonds brothers or sisters had with each other.

How strong the bond between said flatmate and the British Government is completely irrelevant.

So if one ever questioned his sexuality and whether or not he slept with Sherlock Holmes, he or she would get (along with an exasperated glare and/or a quick eye-roll) a quick negative response from the former RAMC Captain.

John Watson had never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much.

Well, there was that one time, but John didn't count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth.

All of them didn't count; John Watson would gladly attest to all of the aforementioned events to prove his heterosexuality (provided that anyone ever found out about them).