Chapter 1

All John could smell, feel, see was garbage. He could also see Sherlock standing in the middle of filthy puddle covered in dirt, sticky and stinking - oh John just had smelled it- substances. John stood as far away as he could from Sherlock because whenever he came around he smacked John's back, ruffled his hair like a parent would do when child scores a goal in football or simply left his filthy hand lingering on small of his back. Scotland Yarders around him were quite familiar with their body language by now but John surely wasn't. He tried to shrug off the touches and smiled awkwardly when a new yarder looked at them questioningly.

By now, John too was covered in garbage, all thanks to the run they had along the alley way chasing a supposed murderer. The man had escaped and now they were back where the crime had taken place. The end of a dark, filthy alley. John was provided with food, water and other sanitisation he needed during the case by Lestrade and usual hours to investigate being in the afternoon, he had plenty of time to catch up on sleep as his nights usually were spent listening to his flatmate ranting on about anything. Anything.

"This is a very delicate case and I cannot afford to take risks," Lestrade had said. Sherlock, once he entered the scene, drunk high on adrenaline, left John alone and proceeded with deductions, monologues, insults to yarders; the usual. John took notes of things that might be useful for the case or for Sherlock to ridicule his intellect. Either ways, it was enough to keep him busy.

The case involved a 38 year old businessman- exactly the age of John's- murdered brutally with what seemed like a sharp instrument like knife which was not found anywhere near the crime scene. The man was found at the end of an alley in sitting position, his back resting against wall. His eyes were open quite horrifyingly. The victim, Jack Sean, was a successful businessman who was supposed to be on the flight to Moscow when he was murdered. Jack is rather a good looking man, John thought. Tall, strong built, blue eyes and soft but strong features. If John were gay then definitely Jack would be the man he would hit on in bar. But he is not. He likes women. Period.

"Here's your coffee, Mr. Watson" a young man from forensic, Michael, said.

"John, please." John took hold of the plastic cup and continued watching Sherlock hopping around in excitement.

"So… How long have you been together?" John looked at him questioningly. "You and Sherlock, that is" Michael spoke looking at his shoes as if there is Mona Lisa dancing.

"No, he isn't.. my boyfriend" John had difficulty saying the last word. He had an idea where this conversation was heading and how it was going to end. Michael eyes shot up to meet John's as if Dancing Mona Lisa no longer held any interest for him.

"He is not? Wow. But the media-"

"The media is full of lies" John said cutting him off. Michael considered it for a moment.

"John, I know this is utterly unprofessional but would you like to have coffee sometime?" John looked at the cup he was holding and back at Michael "Outside the crime scene, I mean" Michael released long held breath.

"I am sorry, Michael, but I'm not gay" John said smiling sympathetically.

Michael stared at him for full one minute, not understanding a word he heard.

"Oh- oh- yeah right. Of course." He stammered as he finally found his voice. He scratched his head in embarrassment.

"No worries." John touched Michael's arm with his free hand and smiled. No matter how many times he gets asked out by guys, it always ends up in awkwardness like this.

"But you two look quite close, like boyfriends" Michael said after recovering from awkward agony.

"Do we?"

"Oh yeah, I mean, my gay-radar is not usually wrong" John laughed heartily. "I am sorry again for making you uncomfortable"

"Don't worry about it, Michael. Happens" John replied with a wink.

They stood in silence for some time.

"Fuck, I am going to miss tonight's game again" John said glancing at his watch.

"I haven't watched TV in a week. I missed Manchester's play last Sunday" He said kicking at dirt.

"Sherlock doesn't let me watch telly, you know that?"

"Yeah, I read your blog." Michael laughed. "Listen would you like to meet up for a game sometime in this week? I hardly have anyone around and watching game alone is kind of boring"

"I'd like that" John smiled lightly. He heard Lestrade's rough voice shouting for Michael.

"Here's my number. Call me or leave me a text. We'll arrange something" He hurriedly typed his number on mobile John offered him and jogged to where Lestrade was shouting. John saved the number and pocketed the phone. Michael has a nice bum, he thought. In a manly way, of course. Not that he likes men's bums. He likes women's. Only women's. Period.

"Got yourself a date, I see?" Sherlock said in John's ears, dangerously close. John startled and before he recovered, Sherlock had his hand in John's pocket and was pulling out John's phone.

"What- what are you doing? There are people around us" John said trying to get Sherlock's hands off him.

"So?" Sherlock was typing frantically in John's phone.

"They think we are together, Sherlock. And we are not"

"But you do love the attention, John, don't you?"

"Attention? What-"

"Michael, John. You were checking him out. His bum to be precise." John glared at him. "The lingering hand on his arm, wink, angle of your knees… Would you like me to go on?"

"No, I wasn't checking him out" John took a step back, defiance filled his voice.

Sherlock didn't acknowledge John's words and continued typing.

"That is my phone."

"Oh really?" Still typing.

"Sherlock, give it back to me!" When Sherlock didn't, John launched himself on Sherlock, hands desperately trying to reach the phone. Sherlock effortlessly held the phone above John's hands' reach and looked down at John, smirking. He is enjoying.

"Oh get a room, you two" Sally said with disgust. John distanced himself from Sherlock, threatening him with one last look and started to walk away. He heard Sherlock saying something to Sally but John didn't care. Sherlock was an annoying bastard.

That night when John finally got hands on the phone, he read what Sherlock had typed and sent unfortunately.

TO: Michael Johnson

John is not gay. He is bisexual. And clearly you are not the type he is looking for. He likes danger and you despise it. So better cancel whatever you have planned this week because I need John for some important work.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. :3 Would you like me to write the next chapter? Please review. :)