Yay! After nine months of asking, pleading, begging, bribing, cajoling and plainly annoying my very patient beta (who had the great heart to go through the lengthy editing process no less than three times for this one!), I have a new story to publish. Any mistakes will be all mine, as I can't really ask for a fourth reading...

I was called out when the characters were not behaving like themselves, when I didn't give them enough credit, or when the story simply didn't work. I had to trim a lot of the "fat" and almost had to delete the entire beginning. But I'm happy with the way it turned out, and I hope you will too. There are twenty one chapters and I'll do my best to publish one a day, as usual. Enjoy!

And the disclaimer, no, sadly not mine. Otherwise Season 3 would've been a Johnlock-fest. Darn.

1. Hmmm

'Shut up, John.'

'I didn't say anything!'

'You're thinking. It's so loud it's annoying.'

'Well, do you want to talk ab-'

'No!'

'But-'

'No!'

'Wh-'

'No!'

And Sherlock turned and flagged a cab, declaring the conversation over.

...

- Half an hour earlier -

After fending off three women with too much perfume, too much makeup, too much cleavage, too much alcohol in their system and too little intelligence, the whole of the party was finally steering clear out of his way.

He regretted once again having succumbed to John and Sarah's pleas. She had invited them for her New Year's Eve party. John had argued it would be a nice thing to do; for his part, to show her they could remain friends. And for Sherlock, it would do well to keep on her good graces, given how much work John missed because of him. Sherlock pointed out that John merely wanted to meet new women now that he was solo again, and this was just a feeble excuse. John then threatened to throw away his experiment, so he had relented. He wished Sarah owned a gun.

Perhaps I could try cursive next time, to make it challenging, he sighed.

Sherlock was standing by the window, staring outside, when he saw Sarah's reflection on the glass. Seeing new friends arriving, she jumped up and down, waving happily. Sherlock's eyes naturally went to the door where four people were removing their coats. He had already read everyone in the party, so he'd welcome some distraction, even if it would only take him three minutes, tops. Hmpf, probably two.

Sherlock felt a shockwave sweep inside his body when his eyes fell upon one of the new arrivals. He turned around for an undistorted look.

...

John was aware that Sherlock was most likely sulking alone in a corner somewhere. He wanted to keep him company and make sure he didn't insult too many people, but kept getting distracted. Sarah had introduced him to some of her girlfriends and he just had had a fun and flirty banter with Annie. She's really cute.

He turned to check on Sherlock and his brow furrowed.

Sherlock looked even stiffer than usual, almost an angry look to him, as he intently stared at the new arrivals. This was serious. An old enemy? Someone he sent to jail? John looked at the door; there were four men in the hallway, in their thirties. One had a shaved head and retro looking spectacles. The second man was so skinny he rivalled Sherlock, looking frail enough to be broken in half by anyone merely shaking his hand. The third one was quite the opposite, overweight, with a belly that hung over his belt. The fourth...

The fourth one had clearly spotted Sherlock and had gone pale, a stunned look on his face, his lips agape.

Frowning, John looked back at Sherlock, who seemed to have gone even paler than usual. John looked at the new arrivals again. As the man's companions were introducing him to Sarah, he turned to face her with a dazzling smile. They shook hands and chatted for a while. As soon as he could, he moved towards Sherlock, eyes wide, mouth open.

John went to the table to ostensibly refill his drink, but in reality to get a clear view of where Sherlock stood. He was curious, who's that man? Why is Sherlock - what? - upset? That worried John. The hair on his nape stood up. I'd better keep an eye on them, in case there's trouble. Sherlock's head had shifted slightly backwards, as if to create more distance between them, now that the stranger approached.

The man was handsome, had light blond hair, blue eyes, a cleft chin, a bit taller than Sherlock, medium build. He had freckles and was tanned as someone who spends a lot of time outdoors in the sun. He was well dressed in a manner that spoke of old money, elegant and confident. Just like Sherlock. As they stood facing each other, John couldn't see the stranger's face.

Sherlock spoke little and remained impassive. He pointedly kept his hands in his pockets. The man kept on talking.

After twenty minutes or so, the stranger put his hand on Sherlock's chest, as if pleading. John made a small involuntary jerk, ready to run to his aid, but was halted by the reaction that the touch caused.

Sherlock was taken by surprise, his cool demeanour shattered. He tilted his chin up, gasping slightly, lips parting. It took him a few seconds to recover. Then he reverted to his impassive mode, the only thing off being a slight flush on his cheeks. He said something and the hand fell off his chest, as the stranger's shoulders and head drooped.

Then someone shouted:

'Hey everyone! It's five till midnight! Everyone get their glasses and coats and head to the roof to watch the fireworks!'

Sarah's neighbours down the street always set off fireworks on New Year's Eve, so going to the roof had become a tradition in her parties, she had explained to him a week ago. She took his arm and John was swept upstairs with the crowd. He hesitated briefly, but Sherlock didn't seem to be in immediate danger. The stranger was not showing any anger or aggression. Yet, he decided not to linger upstairs too much.

Once the fireworks started, he looked around, but couldn't see Sherlock (or the stranger) anywhere. He exchanged a hug with Sarah and joined in clinking glasses with many of the other guests, who were all singing and cheering.

The air outside was cold enough and soon people started heading back to the warmth of the flat. Relieved, John saw Sherlock and the stranger still talking by the window. Sherlock still had his hands in his pockets but the flush in his cheeks had deepened.

Sarah's friend Annie touched his arm and gave him a hug, wishing him a Happy New Year. All John could see (and smell) in those seconds were brown curls, soft, fragrant and luxuriously long, the way he liked. They exchanged the usual pleasantries.

'John?'

Sherlock's voice always cut through any noise, even when he spoke quietly. John was so attuned to him he would've heard him even during the fireworks. He immediately turned, while Annie scurried away, embarrassed by Sherlock's scathing remarks to her earlier in the evening.

'Victor, this is John Watson. John, Victor Trevor.'

Victor had an astonished look on his face and Sherlock was definitely blushing by now. John politely shook his hand, baffled by their behaviour, looking from one to the other, his forehead crinkling. Not enemies then, I guess.

'So... Sherlock tells me you're sharing a flat now?'

'Hm? Oh, yes. We've been at the flat for almost two years now.'

'Well, um, congratulations,' Victor said, as he unconsciously looked him up from head to toe.

John didn't like that. Not only because of the assumption that they were a couple, but also the jab on his physical appearance. He raised his chin. Who the hell do you think you are?

But Victor didn't see the defiant look directed at him. He turned away saying, 'Sherlock, I'm very happy for you. I truly am. You deserve all the happiness in the world.' He looked back at John with a small smile. 'I'm glad you found someone. Well John, Happy New Year!'

John really didn't like that. He shot Sherlock a glare, annoyed that he hadn't corrected this man's assumption that they were together.

But then John saw something on the familiar face that he had never seen before. Sherlock looked nervous, unsure of himself, and had just given him a pleading look. It only lasted a second, but John had seen it. Seeing him so vulnerable made his annoyance fizzle out and he immediately forgave Sherlock. With the ghost of a smile, he returned a look that said I'm here for you. Anything you need.

Relieved, Sherlock gave a small smile and stepped to his side to face Victor, cupping John's shoulder.

Once he looked back at Victor, he became aware of what their wordless exchange must have looked like to him. He interpreted it as John being clearly jealous and furious, "you never told me about him!" Sherlock had looked "anguished and apologetic", so John forgave him. But to Victor, this easiness with which Sherlock had touched John, that was new. He knew Sherlock usually didn't care for touching others or being touched. Even with Victor, in the beginning, it had been a calculated effort. This easiness was surprising and told volumes of the kind of relationship they had. Victor inhaled deeply but contained himself and let the air out discreetly.

Up until now Sherlock hadn't noticed how natural it felt to touch John. He filed that away to puzzle over at a later time. 'Well, it was good to see you, Victor. But John and I need to go now.'

'Yes, of course. I understand.'

'Goodbye, Victor.'

'Goodbye, Sherlock,' and they stared at each other, a sense of finality clear in their polite words. Then, remembering John's presence, 'John, nice to meet you. Don't let him run away. Take good care of him.'

'I always do,' he answered a bit frostily. As if he needed to tell me that!

They turned, but Victor called, 'And Sherlock?'

Both men did a half turn, so Victor added, 'I'm glad I could finally talk to you.' He smiled in an attempt to hide his sadness. 'It was good to see you.'

John looked at Sherlock, expecting him to reply. But after a second, he only gave Victor a brief nod and turned away again.

A/note: how could any Johnlock writer not end up with a story that mentions Victor? This is my version of him for you. Please review and let me know what you think. We learn more about him tomorrow. Stay tuned!