Sherlock and John very rarely paid any attention to any of the comments made by people about them being together. Sherlock tries to ignore them completely, and John just shrugs them off. But John had heard one very specific comment about a pool going around Scotland Yard; a pool that's to see how long it takes for them to finally see what other people see.

John had told Sherlock about it, but he merely scoffed at them with his own comment of, "Don't they realize that we're just very close friends? Morons."

John, however, was interested to know more about said pool. Thus, he found himself calling Lestrade.

His phone rang and rang, until finally, it picked up.

"John? You hardly ever call me unless something is wrong with Sherlock. Has something happened?"

"No, no, he's fine. I heard that there was a pool going around? About me and Sherlock, I mean."

"Oh, you heard about that?"

"Yeah. I was wondering - how much is in it?"

"It's getting close to three thousand pounds."

"What, seriously? That much going for us?"

"Erm," cough, "Yeah, it, erm, started a few months after you two met."

"How much did you put in, then?"

"More than I should have, really. I'm starting to regret it now."

"Why's that?"

"Because now I can't afford to get my bloody car fixed."

"Ah, well, I'm sorry to hear about that."

"Yeah. Did you need anything else? I have to get to work soon."

"Hm? Oh, no, that was it. Thanks, Greg."

He hung up the phone, set it down, then went to knock on Sherlock's door.

"Hey, Sherlock, are you still in there?"

"I never left, John."

"Well, can I come in?"

"I don't know, can you?"

John sighed and rolled his eyes. "May I come in?"

"Yes."

He opened the door and walked in. Sherlock sat on his bed, legs crossed and hands clasped together under his chin. John stood next to his bed. "Can - May I sit down?"

Sherlock nodded once, and so John sat.

"So, I just talked to Greg."

"Who?"

John sighed. Again.

"Lestrade."

"Ah."

"Yeah. I called him about the pool going. I was a little curious about it, and I found something out."

"I'm sure you're about to tell me, so I won't bother asking."

John rolled his eyes. Again.

"They have about three thousand pounds going for us. They started it a few months after we first met."

"Where are you going with this?"

"How would you like to help Lestrade? He wouldn't know that we did it, but he told me he's having trouble with money right now. If we can find out the date. then we can put on a show for them, and Lestrade could win the money."

Sherlock looked at John. "You mean to pretend as if we are dating?"

"Well, I dunno, something of the sort. A little hand holding at the Yard, or something to convince them."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, thinking it over.

"And you say this is to help Lestrade?"

"Yes."

" ... Alright."

"Alright, then. I'll just call Mycroft and ask him if he knows anything about it."

His phone rang and rang until Mycroft answered.

"Why, hello, Doctor Watson."

"Hello, Mycroft. You wouldn't happen to know anything about the pool going around Scotland Yard about Sherlock and I, would you?"

"Ah, yes. I would."

"Has Lestrade told you what date he's betting on for it to happen?"

"The day after Sherlock's birthday."

"That's only a week away."

"He bets on it every year. Each year he bets, the money goes up, and should he win, I'd say he would be quite relieved."

"You already know our plan, don't you?"

"Yes. I will not mention it to Gregory. Tell Sherlock that he is a good man for doing this. As are you, Doctor Watson."

"Yeah, will do. Thanks, Mycroft."

He hung up.

"Why the day after my birthday? What significance does that particular day hold?"

"I'm not sure, but your brother said he bets on it each year."

"Yes, well. How are we going to convince them? I doubt a little ... hand holding ... will do much."

John shrugged and set about to cleaning the living room. He knew how they could convince them, but he didn't want to bring it up should Sherlock change his mind. Sherlock, however, saw John waver.

"Tell me."

John looked over his shoulder at him. "You won't like it. At least, I don't think you will."

"Tell me."

John sighed.

"We could ... practice ... kissing. In private, here, and then one kiss in public should seal the deal."

Sherlock looked at him for a moment, considering it, before he looked away, mumbling under his breath.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said I've never been kissed before. I wouldn't know how to kiss, or even practice kissing."

John just stared in shock for a moment.

"Right. Well, if you're not adverse to the idea, I could teach you? It would help to, erm, convince them?"

Sherlock shifted nervously in his chair. "A-alright."

"Do you want to start now, or?"

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

John made his way over to Sherlock's chair and stood in front of him. Leaning down, John placed his hands on either side of Sherlock's face, tilting his head just a bit.

Lips touched. Silence ensued. Breathing became a problem.

"Oh," Sherlock breathed at last. "So that's what it's like?"

John pulled away and sat in his own chair. "Hm?"

"I never knew kissing someone could - " he stopped himself. He thought he was talking to himself before he remembered John was there.

"Could what?"

Sherlock looked up at John shyly.

"N-nothing," he got up from his chair and went to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He had a lot to think about.

The kiss was soft. Warm. Fantastic.

Sherlock had always heard that kissing was wet and gross, which is why he avoided it. But with John - oh, with John - it felt wonderful.

Then Sherlock remembered they were just practicing. Faking. It probably meant nothing to John, but it had flicked some switch inside of Sherlock.

Sherlock raised a hand to his lips. He could still feel the ghost of the kiss. He sighed.

"Sherlock, are you ready? Today's the day, and we're supposed to meet everyone - "

"Yes John, I know."

"Well come on then, grumpy, or we'll be late and Greg won't win his bet."

Sherlock emerged from his room, dressed in his usual suit, along with his trusty coat and scarf.

"Hello, Lestrade," Sherlock greeted once they arrived at the bar of Lestrade's choosing. "Everyone else."

"Sherlock," Greg greeted back, then turned to look at John. "Hey, John. What'll you two have?"

"Sherlock will have a water, and I'll have a beer. Sherlock isn't allowed to have any after last time."

"What happened last time?" Greg asked.

"He slept for two days straight."

"I didn't mean to," Sherlock grumbled from beside him.

"I know that, love."

Greg was just about to fetch their drinks when he heard it. Everyone else at their table looked at him in shock, even Sherlock. He hadn't expected anything more than the practiced kiss from John.

"Did he just - "

"Did you just - "

"Are you two - "

John smirked. "Together? I'd say so."

Greg looked like he had just won the lottery - which, in a way, he had.

Donovan and Anderson didn't look quite convinced. This is it. This is where their plan would be put into action.

"Prove it."

Sherlock turned to look at John. John looked back at him and shrugged before pulling him down for a slow, sweet, gentle kiss.

"My god, you're not joking."

They pulled apart after a few seconds and set about to drinking their beverages and avoiding any talk of how and when it happened, just that it's finally happened.

When they arrived back at Baker Street, Sherlock immediately went and sat in his armchair. John did the same.

Sherlock was the first to speak.

"Do it again."

"I'm sorry?"

"Kiss me again and call me ... that - again."

"The night is over Sherlock, we don't have to pretend anymore?"

"I know that, but - " he sighed. "Never mind. Forget it."

"No, what is it?"

"I want you to kiss me again. I don't want to pretend. I don't like pretending. It hurts."

"Why does it hurt?"

"Because - because, when you kissed me, I felt something. I don't know what it was, I don't have enough data - but I felt something, John. Something I've never felt before, and you caused it, but you don't - you were just pretending, but me - " he shook his head. He doesn't know how else to explain how he feels.

John just stared at him. Sherlock was about to stand and go to his room, all hope lost, when John moved and kissed him like he did before.

They pulled apart and Sherlock looked up at John. He grabbed one of John's hands and placed it on his chest, under his own hand. His heart was beating faster than it possibly ever had.

"Do you feel that, John?" John nodded. "You caused that. No one else has ever done that to me. I like that. I like how you cause my heart to race, my breath to catch. You've always managed to silence my mind in one way or another before, but this - this kissing - John, I've never felt this way with anyone before. I don't know what to do with this information. I don't - "

John kissed him again. "So," he breathed. "No more pretending, then?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I very much like the real thing."

John grinned. "Me, too."