AN: Here you go guys! I know it was a bit of a wait but it's finally here! We get to know when Sherlock swore in public. I did write this rather quickly, but I'm happy with it :) I've proof-read this, but if you see any spelling errors please tell me! I always seem to miss something. I hope you like it! If you guys have any ideas for a better title, I'm happy to listen :)

WARNING: Mild swearing, nothing too big.

Blaspheme!

"Sherlock?"

"Sherlock"

"Sherlock!"

"What? What on earth could be so impossibly important that you have to interrupt my work?"

Sherlock was scowling at John with his teeth bared, but he paid it no attention. His eyes flicked down casually to the paper in his hands and back up to Sherlock in the kitchen who was now watching him like a hawk. Sherlock had been in another one of his moods, only falling silent when he started doing obscene things with a scalpel to something John didn't even want to know about. It looked like he was fiddling with some type of rat, but it was far too large and furry to be one. John shuddered and redirected his gaze to his flat-mate. He was perched on his chair like a vulture on a branch and his knuckles were turning white with the grip he held on the table. John clicked his tongue thoughtfully and rested his paper against his knees. Sherlock huffed out an impatient breath. After a few seconds of careful consideration John asked,

"You remember a while ago you said that sometimes swear words just…slipped out?" Sherlock stiffened in his seat and John suppressed the urge to grin. Sherlock replied tersely,

"Yes, of course I remember. Why wouldn't I remember?"

John ignored the chance to berate him about the whole solar system fiasco and he tried to stay on track. The question he had had been burning in his brain since Sherlock first mentioned the whole swearing incident. He had mentioned about two months ago how he started to notice himself swearing more often and he blamed it on John. John glowered at his nearly full 'No Cussy Cussy Jar' on the mantel piece and an even harder at Sherlock's empty one, neatly labeled 'The B*tch's Jar'. The sod hadn't even sworn once since he mentioned it and John was bursting to hear something. Witnessing Sherlock Holmes, possibly the most cultured man on earth (besides Mycroft or the Queen) do something as human and basic as swear was number one on John's wish list. He fought another urge to grin. Cracking up now wouldn't help get the information Sherlock clearly didn't want to divulge.

"Yeah, yeah, you have a big brain and an even bigger head," he folded up his paper and chucked it down onto the table in front of him. He stood up and made himself comfortable in 'his' armchair. Sherlock turned to face him more, still slightly apprehensive. "But what I want to know is when you've actually sworn in public. Back then you said it with a sort of embarrassed face. It's clear there was a story to tell and I'd like to know what it is."

Sherlock could tell by the inflection of John's voice and the way he crossed his arms, he wasn't going to give up without a fair fight. Sherlock looked longingly at the creature on his desk; the mess of it was all over the table. John wouldn't be happy at all. He calculated the chance of him talking his way out of the conversation but he couldn't see any good results. When they had first moved in together, John was easily susceptible to Sherlock's tricks, but he had grown immune to them over time.

"Well?" John tapped his foot on the floor impatiently and nodded his head towards the couch. Sherlock heaved a dramatic sigh, peeled off his white gloves and plodded over to the couch. He flopped down heavily and stared at the ceiling. He could already feel his face heat up and he hoped John couldn't tell. He was always so annoyingly perceptive about those sorts of things. John realized with a frustrated grunt that Sherlock wasn't going to start the conversation. So he began asking questions, hoping to gather some information.

"How long ago was it?" Sherlock just sniffed and said nothing so John tried again,

"Was it in front of the Yard?"

"Was Anderson there?"

"What did you say?"

John continued to bombard Sherlock with questions and digs and jibes, trying to get him to talk, but Sherlock-being the stubborn bastard that he was, said nothing. John threw up his hands in frustration and nearly shouted,

"Fine! Okay, I get it! You don't want to talk! You could have just said that before and saved us both a lot of time." John stood up, ignoring the twinge in his leg and shuffled into the kitchen for a cup of tea. He was grumpy at Sherlock for being so childish. Out of pure habit, he began making a cup for Sherlock as well. He was dumping the tea bags into the mug when he heard Sherlock say quietly,

"It was just before Christmas, a few months ago."

John poked his head out into the living room. Sherlock had sat up on the couch and had his head in his hands. If John hadn't known the context, he would have thought that Sherlock had been told terrible news. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and if John didn't know any better, he would have thought that Sherlock was blushing. It was hard to tell though; his face was shielded by a thick layer of drooping hair. John abandoned the tea and knelt down in front of Sherlock.

"Okay, well what happened then?" Sherlock took a deep shuddering breath. John wasn't quite sure what was happening. He was acting as if he was recounting a harrowing experience. Rather than feel sympathy for his friend, he felt like he had the upper hand for once. John smiled a little too sweetly and said,

"Come on, Sherlock," he cooed, "it's okay, you can tell me."

Sherlock took another deep breath, stretching his shirt around his bony frame. John placed a hand on his knee comfortingly. Sherlock looked up with an anxious but determined face.

"Okay, I'll tell you." John wasn't sure what he was in for.

AN: Sorry to end it here! But the next chapter's going to be a flashback and it will be kinda long. Best to make it a separate chapter. I hope you liked it! Don't forget to review!