Hello people of the Sherlock Fandom. This is my very first fanfic and I'm rather nervous for it. I've seen the critiques that can be given and I've also seen the nice things that have been said. I can only hope you all like this.

Please read and review. I would love to know how much you like this. Enjoy y'all!

. . Anwynn. .

There were times when John Watson forgot that his flat-mate was a woman.

As surprising as this seems, it was true. Sherlock never complained about any womanly problem. She didn't behave very lady-like, what with her sharp mouth and harsh truth. It wasn't that she didn't look feminine, oh no, she looked very womanly. What with her dark hair falling in waves to her shoulders, always tied up or wound in a messy bun, a few strand always brushing the side of her face. It was just…she rarely talked to any women besides Sally Donovan. So John couldn't really be blamed for sometimes forgetting that she was the same as all women, no matter how high and mighty she might seem.

However, there were incidents, which jarred the army doctor and reminded him just how much of a woman Sherlock really was.

It was another normal day at the flat. Well, as normal as it could ever be in 221B anyways.

"Alright. I'm off to get some milk. Want me to get anything for you?" called John, toeing his shoes on and glancing at his flat-mate. The consulting detective was lying on the couch, dressed in her usual white nightie over which she wore her silk blue dressing gown. The dressing gown was loosely tied, accentuating her slender waist, and was half open, pooling on the floor.

"Hmmm…" Sherlock mused, tapping her fingertips together and studying the ceiling with interest. Her grey-blue-green – God, John didn't even know what colour they were- were moving across the ceiling, reading lines only she could see.

"Do you need anything?" the army doctor asked again, shifting slightly and glancing outside. It looked like it was about to rain. Again. God, why did it rain so much? The blond's thoughts were brought to a halt as Sherlock finally sat up, turning her head in his direction and looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?" asked John sheepishly. The detective let out a frustrated huff and rolled her eyes before speaking again.

"You know I hate to repeat myself John. I asked if you would be so kind as to pick up tampons. I've run out," said the female, giving a dismissive gesture, which marked the end of the conversation, before flopping back down. John stared at the woman in blank shock, just opening and closing his mouth for a few seconds. An indefinite time later he made a strangled sounding noise.

"T-tampons?" asked the older male, looking incredulous and still sounding rather choked. There was a sigh from the sofa and Sherlock sat up again, glaring at John.

"Yes, John. Tampons. I'm sure your hearing is perfectly fine," she replied scathingly. There was some silence.

"C-can't you bring them yourself?"

"No. As you can see, I'm quite busy thinking, something you should really do once in a while. It's a wonder your brain hasn't stagnated."

"Sherlock, tampons are for women-" here he was cut off again.

"Really? I hadn't noticed. How very observant of you." John continued undaunted.

"-and I am not a woman. Plus, I haven't shopped for tampons for ages. I can't possibly go there and buy them for you. Its awkward." There was another short silence in which both flat-mates stared at each other. And then…

"Tampax. Bring a couple of packets," said the dark-haired woman, this time completely dismissing John and ignoring his feeble protests.

John was sure he had never been in a situation this awkward since he was fourteen and Harry had sent him on a quest through the lingerie store. Though…this was considerably better than that one time when he and Sherlock had been in a Victoria's Secret for a case and one of the staff had insisted on getting Sherlock to buy a pair of lacy undergarments. The blond shuddered slightly. Yes. That had been horrible. Tantalizing too, but that is a whole other thing. The army doctor quickly walked to the self-checkout, trying to get his work done quickly so he could leave. There had been woman who had given him a strange look when he had picked up the box of Tampax. Of course Fate decided to meddle in John's life for having some entertainment. The machine wasn't working. It just wouldn't scan the packet. No matter how many times John would do it. The blond let out an irritated huff and tried again, but to no avail. Bloody machine. Why did this hav- whatever he was lamenting about was cut off as a brown-haired woman dressed in staff clothes made her way over, a big fake smile on her face.

"Hello. Are you alright there? Would you like some help?" she asked brightly, coming to a halt in front of John. The man glanced away and flushed slightly.

"No, I'm-" He broke off, trying the scanner one more time. Once again the words 'UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT IN BAGGING AREA' flashed in red across the screen. The woman raised an eyebrow, an 'aha!' look on her face before it vanished and she stepped forward.

"Let me help, mister. Um, what are you trying to scan?" the brunette asked, trying to keep the smug look off her face. Finally giving up, John gave her the packet. She glanced at it, flushed furiously, eyed him strangely, then scanned it, stammering out something that sounded like 'have a nice day'. John simply shoved everything into a bag and rushed out, flushing and avoiding gazes. He seemed to have forgotten that not everyone was like Sherlock. A black car followed him persistently on the road, not liking the fact that it was being ignored. John gave a sharp sigh and quickly got into the car, a bit surprised to find Mycroft sitting in the back. The Holmes opened his mouth to say something before John cut him off.

"Look, this can wait for later, Mycroft. I have to give something to your sister," with that he shoved the package of tampons in the other man's hands. To his credit, Mycroft didn't react that harshly. He merely jumped, blushed slightly, and gave the packet back to John.

"Ah. Of course. We're here anyways, Doctor Watson. I'll be drop-"

"Yeah, yeah. Brilliant. Thanks for the ride."

The blond hurried up the stairs, passing a hasty greeting to Mrs. Hudson before pounding up the stairs and throwing the door open. Sherlock looked up from the microscope she was sitting at and cocked an eyebrow.

"Next time you're getting them yourself," was the reply she got, along with the shopping bag tossed onto the counter and the box of tampons in her hand. The detective smirked, moving her attention back to the microscope.

"Of course John. But you didn't say anything about sanitary napkins."

So, how did you like it? Good? Bad? I hope you enjoyed it. Please drop a review and tell me if I should continue this series of one-shots or if I should stop writing all together.

. . Anwynn. .