John's first few weeks as Sherlock's guardian were touch and go- he spent more time then not crouched outside of Mycoft's manor, prepared to alert the government official by subtle means whenever his wayward younger brother decided to make a bid for freedom. Sherlock attempted to escape on four separate occasions, the last time being the most creative involving six hundred pipe cleaners and an impromptu fire alarm.

Still, by the end of the week, Sherlock was in no state to do much of anything, let alone break out of one of the most secure houses in Europe. Even from his place on the edge of the grounds John heard his charge's agonized battle with his painful withdrawal symptoms. As a doctor, John had seen many similar cases, and he knew the stages Sherlock would pass through before he was fully clean. He also knew that as well-meaning as Mycroft Holmes might be, no one would be able to break Sherlock's addiction but Sherlock.

Unfortunately, the genius had no such plans. Sherlock craved stimulation, and the drugs certainly supplied it. John had only known the man for a few days and it was obvious to the guardian that Sherlock needed something to keep his mind from spinning out of control and tearing itself apart from sheer boredom. So on the eighth day, when he knew that Sherlock would be too miserable to try anything, but far enough into the withdrawal process that he was out of any immediate danger, John Watson made a trip to Scotland Yard.

"Hullo Mike," he said, greeting his heavyset doctor friend with a smile. Mike Stamford had become a guardian angel within twenty years of John, and the two men had been assigned to twin brothers in Vietnam. Stamford was a reliable, friendly chap, and John enjoyed meeting up every so often.

His old friend cried out in surprise and clasped John's shoulder with a meaty hand.

"Well, I'll be! John Watson! Last I heard you were stationed in Afghanistan with a boy getting shot at. What brings you here?" Stamford asked, and John did his best to remain docile, shrugging as nonchalantly as he was able to.

"He got shot."

Stamford grimaced. "Sorry."

"Yes, well, he was a good soldier. Much braver than either of us," The angel replied, giving his friend a wry grin. John wasn't the only one to take the so-called coward's way out. He continued.

"I've been reassigned."

"Already? You'd think the afterlife would be more of a picnic, wouldn't you? Well, if this bit is limbo, then I'm interested what heaven will actually be like," Stamford said, and John snorted.

"I'll see soon enough—this is my last assignment before they pass me on to whatever's next," he replied, doing his best to be offhand about the news. Of course, Stamford saw right through the act, and gave his friend a hearty slap on the back.

"Well congratulations! I can't believe it's finally happening," he replied, smiling hugely, his eyes crinkling behind thick spectacles. When John didn't elaborate further, Stamford realized there was more to the impromptu visit then merely catching up on their non-lives.

"So what brings you to my neck of the woods? Is this about your new assignment?" he asked, and John inclined his head in response.

"Yeah. He's in a bad state right now, but when he's better I was wondering if there was any way you could influence your chap to hire him or something," John suggested, not exactly sure if Mike's charge— Lestrade, John thought his name was—had any sort of pull when it came to providing jobs for genius ex-cocaine addicts, but it was worth a shot. Mike whistled through his teeth, seemingly deep in thought as he pondered the odd request, and John's heart sank a bit.

"Well, that depends on a few things. Greg's incredibly practical. He'd never hire someone just for the hell of it. What is different about your bloke that makes him so special?"

"He's bloody brilliant," John asserted, thinking about the intensity of Sherlock's stare as he accurately guessed half of John's life story, even on the brink of overdose-induced death. "He can see more about people from a quick glance then I could after spending a month with them." John frowned and continued. "Of course, his brain is almost more than he can handle sometimes, and he's completely impossible to deal with. It wouldn't be a matter of Sherlock being useful to the Yard so much as the Yard being able to stand working with him."

Despite himself, Mike was intrigued.

"Really? Greg's in charge of some of the most aggravating individuals on the force and it doesn't seem to bother him much. No matter how much of an arse this Sherlock character is, my boy can handle him," the angel said with pride.

Something deep down inside of John broke a bit at his friend's tone— if Greg Lestrade was anything like Mike had portrayed him, then the yarder was a man in a hazardous line of work, work made all the more dangerous by his dogged determination to do the right thing.

Attachment was a precarious thing when you were dealing with such fragile lives. For Mike's sake, John hoped that the DI wouldn't meet the same unhappy fate as many of his predecessors. Instead of killing the mood and reminding Mike about the importance of rule number three, John cleared his throat and let a devious smile light up his face.

"Sherlock might give him a run for his money," he said, hoping the old teacher would take the bait.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Is that a challenge?" Mike asked, his eyebrows up near his hairline and his face breaking into a huge grin.

"Only if you think your detective can't deal with my genius," John replied casually.

"Give me two weeks," Mike demanded, "and then send Sherlock to a crime scene. I can't make any promises, but if he's as good as you say he is, Lestrade will hire him."

#~#~#~#~#~#~#

True to his word, Mike planted the idea of a crime-solving genius in a few of Lestrade's coworkers. Within three weeks, and after Sherlock's quick solution to one particularly spectacular case involving a dastardly convoluted inheritance scheme, the DI offered Sherlock a full-time job. "We could use a mind like yours on the force," he said.

John grinned with self-satisfaction. He loved it when a plan came together.

"Absolutely not," the genius replied with a sniff of aristocratic disdain. "You can't be serious."

John almost groaned aloud from where he stood hidden behind a cab. Infuriating son of a...

"Sure I am. You were born to solve crimes," Lestrade said with a shrug. "If you keep clean and at least try to tone down the insults, you could be a proud employee of Scotland Yard."

Sherlock looked as affronted as if someone had said something particularly derogatory about his grandmother.

"Hardly. Being constantly surrounded by idiots, having to take whatever mediocre case that came my way, doing paperwork," Sherlock snarled, "all of it sounds like a fate worse than death. Dull."

A lesser man would have balked at the insult, but the DI was made of sterner stuff: he merely smiled. "Fine then. But that means that you'll miss out on all the interesting murders," he said in the tone of a parent temping a child with sweets.

"Which is why I am going to be a consulting detective," Sherlock replied, as if the answer was incredibly simple.

This statement caught everyone off guard, including John.

"A what?"

"Do keep up inspector. I am going to be a consulting detective. As such, I am someone you call in whenever the Yard is out of its depth on a case."

The condescending, "which is always," went unsaid, but Lestrade knew it hung silently in the air. Lestrade also knew that he would not say no to Sherlock's demands after seeing him in action. The small part of the yarder that balked at the thought of working with the demanding genius was largely overruled by the possibility of quickly closed cases and the lives that would undoubtedly be saved. Still, the older man refused to give in so quickly.

"There's no such profession," Lestrade countered, and the genius rolled his eyes.

"There is now," replied Sherlock Holmes, and with an abrupt face that made his coat flare out dramatically, he sauntered off into the darkness.

A/N: Welp, there's part three. (The whole story feels very dry, but hopefully I'll be able to remedy that soon.) The plan is to have some dialogue between John and Sherlock next chapter, so… something to look forward to! Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far! If you have any suggestions or thoughts, please let me know. Also, I'm thinking about writing a one-shot that gives a little bit of background for John and my AU. Yes? No? For goodness sake, stop rambling?