That time I wrote a drabble where Sally and Anderson bet on John's sexuality. Based on an anon Tumblr request.

"Ten pounds, shall we?"

"Fifty," Anderson says, raising the stakes. Sally Donovan raises her eyebrow.

"You're going to lose that fifty," she says. "John Hamish Watson is gay as a window."

"Somehow, I don't think so," Anderson snorts. "Forgive me if I don't believe you." He slides a strand of greasy hair out of his face. "If he were gay, we'd know by now. You know how Sherlock Holmes is about keeping secrets."

"Gay." Sally maintains.

"Straight."

"As a window."

"As an arrow."

"Fine, fifty pounds it is," Donovan says, and then she and Anderson shake on it.

And then they set to studying, looking for any proof they can find of the ex-military doctor's sexuality, each wanting to best the other. It's in their natures to want to beat each other, and oh, they are trying hard.

"Hey, Greg and a few other guys are going down to Hanna after work tonight," Anderson says to John when they meet by chance in the halls of Scotland Yard.

John turns to look at him strangely. "Hanna is a strip club."

"Exactly," Anderson says, grinning in a way that's supposed to be suggestive. "So? You going?"

"No, thanks," John shrugs, already turning away. "Not really my thing."

"Shit," Anderson swears when he thinks he's out of earshot.

The game continues through the day and for most of the next. Both Donovan and Anderson drop in on the conference between Lestrade, John, and Sherlock Holmes, in an effort to overhear or observe something that will give one of them triumph over the other, once and for all.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock, who has not spoken to Lestrade or John in quite some time, is staring curiously at Donovan, who is not-so-subtly inspecting John's hands for…some sort of proof, though she's not sure what she'll find.

"Oh, um, nothing."

"You should know better than to try to trick me," Sherlock grins. "Ah, Anderson, so you're in on it too." For Anderson had shifted when Sherlock first began to speak. "Obviously John is the subject of your visit, since you've been eyeing him up and down since you walked in, and oh, there's your money purse, Agent Donovan. Don't usually have that on you, do you, unless you were hoping for something to put into it? A bet, then, and a steep one. What the hell kind of subject could John provide for a bet?"

Lestrade looks as if all he needs is popcorn, as he watches the verbal sparring match between the three. John looks utterly confused.

"Oh, alright, let's just do it now!" Anderson says, rolling his eyes and tossing up his hands, angry at having been found out by Sherlock Holmes.

"Don't bother, I know what you're going to ask," says Sherlock casually.

"What are they going to ask?" Lestrade and John say together.

"They're going to ask," says Sherlock in a long-suffering, none-of-you-will-ever-understand-my-brain tone, "whether John is gay or not."

John turns red, splutters. Even Anderson shows a slight tinge of pink around the cheeks.

"I am right, aren't I?" asks Sherlock. Donovan nods. "Oh, good. I do love to be right. Really, Anderson, if you're going to ask John to a strip club, you should be a bit more subtle about it; it's written all over your face why you wanted him there."

"Oh, that's enough!" Donovan finally bursts out. "Just…answer the question, and then we can all go back to our normal lives. Okay?"

Everyone turns towards the still reddening John. Everyone except for Sherlock.

"You don't need him to answer," he says, bored. "It's plain, you know, plain to see."

"Well, please enlighten us, then," Anderson snaps.

"Fine, fine," Sherlock says, waving a hand. "Fond of jumpers, the telly he watches, the fact that he organizes his socks by color, not to mention he's a remarkably good cook when he wants to be…"

"None of that tells us anything! Those are stereotypes."

One more long sigh. "Alright, then," Sherlock Holmes says, crossing the room to John. "There's also the fact that he lets me do this, on occasion."

And in full view of Sally Donovan, Anderson, Lestrade, and several office techs working busily outside the office, he leans down and presses his lips to John's, snogging him firmly in the middle of Scotland Yard.

"Fifty pounds, then, is it?" Donovan says lightly, holding out a hand towards Anderson, who is suddenly looking sour.

"As a window," she says triumphantly, tucking her winnings into her purse.

Well, that was fun. Tell me what you think!