A/N: This is a sequel to my first Sherloki story: "In WAY over your head" if you haven't read it, please do or this will make no sense. Please Read and review, it reall helps me out!

John was worried. About Sherlock; surprise, surprise. He'd been acting…off for the last month, paranoid, looking over his shoulder every few minutes and such. Then something had happened about a week ago and he had now swung the complete other direction, floating about in his dressing gown and smiling at odd moments. It was almost as if Sherlock was happy with something other than a crime scene. In a word, it was weird.

It had been Mrs. Hudson that first brought it to his attention the day after whatever it was happened, when John brought Sherlock his usual shopping.

"Oh John," She'd said as he closed the front door with his elbow, hands full of plastic bags "I'm so sorry!"

"Mrs. Hudson, what's happened?" John was thoroughly confused.

"Well, it was just the other day –it must've been, I remember because my sister called. I don't know why she allows that man to come round, he's nothing but trouble-"

"Mrs. Hudson." John interrupted her as gently as possible.

"Oh yes, of course, dearie." Being reminded who she was talking to and what about, she lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially. "Well you've noticed how Sherlock has been acting a touch more strangely than usual? Yes, the other day I heard some rather odd noises coming from the flat and I'm afraid Sherlock must have himself a new boyfriend."

John closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He had given up trying to tell Mrs. Hudson that Sherlock and he were never together, just good friends. Wait, noises? What kind of noises? Surely not…

"What do you mean noises?" John asked, not realizing he had started whispering too.

Mrs. Hudson waffled for a moment "Oh, well, I, um, I suppose you would call them, ah, rather suggestive. Lord knows it's none of my business but it seemed almost like they were trying to make it my business what with the volume-"

"Okay!" John had to raise his voice a bit louder than he had intended to cut off what, he was sure, would have been too much information. He swiftly climbed the stairs to get away from anything else she had to say.

The door to the flat was open, as always. John strode in and stopped dead. Sherlock was on the couch but not in his usual 'thinking position', oh no. He was laying on his stomach, watching his computer screen that was propped up on the armrest farthest from the door with his head phones on and kicking his legs almost absentmindedly like some sort of horrendous, 6 foot tall, teenaged girl! Amazingly, that wasn't the worst part! Sherlock was giggling, that's right, giggling at what looked like footage of a natural disaster. John was so shocked at Sherlock that it took him upwards of two minutes to recognize the news reports.

"That's New York two years ago."

The screen froze "Yes it is, John."

"But you said it was all fake and not worth your time."

"I did."

John waited for a moment or two, then, realizing that he wouldn't get any more out of his former flat mate, he pressed on. "If you said it was all fake why are you watching those old reports?"

"Some new evidence as to the validity of these reports has reached me and if this, if it is indeed genuine, event has truly transpired it has an incredible impact on the planet and life as we know it."

"Huh." And with that John started putting away the groceries. Then, attempting to sound as casual as possible "Mrs. Hudson thinks you have a new boyfriend, by the way."

"She would think that, wouldn't she?" Sherlock answered lazily.

"So you haven't then?" John cringed as it came out, he hadn't really meant to ask.

"Well… I wouldn't label him a boyfriend as we aren't in a committed, monogamous relationship. I-John? John! Stop crushing my biscuits!"

"What? What did you just say?"

"I told you to stop crushing my biscuits! Is that some sort of euphemism that I am unaware of?"

"No, Sherlock. The bit about the not-boyfriend that you apparently have?" John finally turned around and looked Sherlock square in the eye.

"Yes, I have one. Now really John! They are going to be all crumbs if you continue!"

"How did I not know about this? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It only began yesterday! Also, you've never been interested in my sex life, why start now?"

"Because I assumed you didn't have one!"

"I am 37 years old! What? Did you think that I had just over looked this area-oh John! You did!" Sherlock looked almost affronted that John had thought he had just dismissed anything when it came to scientific inquiry.

"Oh so now it's my fault? Look, Sherlock, you never dated-"

"And I'm not 'dating' now, I'm just fucking."

That definitely shut John up. He made several efforts to speak before he saw Sherlock's smug grin.

"You just said that so I'd leave you alone."

"Yes, but it is also the truth, so that's double points to me." Sherlock, sensing the conversation was coming to a close he turned and headed to his chair to read the paper.

John finished mechanically putting away the groceries then leaned against the door frame of the living room. "Are you going to tell me his name? Will I ever meet him?"

"No and no." Sherlock answered not looking up from the obituaries.

"So in other words: I won't like him."

Sherlock's dark chocolate chuckle preempted the dip of the newspaper. "Oh you would absolutely loathe him. He's very bad for me in all the best ways."

John stood out on the street the next minute feeling like he needed a shower, since when was Sherlock having sex? That shouldn't even be a sentence that exists! But he also found himself completely obsessed with finding out who this mystery guy is and destroying him, and he knew just the two people to help him.

Sherlock smiled brightly into his paper. He hadn't intended for John to find out quite so soon but he had to admit that John knowing was going to make the next few weeks very interesting.

"You can come out now, darling." Sherlock called softly.

"Oh dear, that was a little cruel of you." Loki's voice answered from near Sherlock's left knee. The paper crinkled revealing a Cheshire grin underneath, that was soon buried in the apex of Sherlock's legs.

Groaning loudly, Sherlock wove his fingers into dark locks "You talk too much for a dead man."

"So do you." the quiet reply was joined by the sound of a fine trouser zip.

A/N: REVIEW PLEASE! :D