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“He asked you to go for drinks with him.” Sherlock's voice broke the near silence in the flat as John sat typing away their latest case.
“What?” the confusion was obvious in his reply.
“Lestrade. After we wrapped up the case, he invited you for drinks. The date was tonight. You should go.”
John stopped what he was doing to look over at Sherlock, surprised to see him actually watching him, eyes just waiting to meet his own when he looked up.
“Well, yes, he did invite me, but since when have you ever taken an interest in me dati- Date? No, it wasn't a date. Couldn't have been. He's married, I've seen the ring.”
Sherlock gave a heavy sigh, moving to close John's laptop as he sat on the table next to it. “Used to be married. Wears the ring because he's sworn off other women and that's easier than just turning them down.”
John looked up at his flatmate, looking for answers in the ever changing eyes. “So, sworn off women, but still interested in men, but just for sex?” It was strange to ask Sherlock about relationships, and what people wanted in them, but he was offering advice, even encouraging something. But what was he encouraging? Did he want John to get a fuck-buddy, or something more?
“No. He's interested in a relationship, again, wears the ring because it's easier than turning down all the guys just looking for a quick shag. He's asked you because he's hopeful, he'll probably explain his reasons to you himself later.”
The way Sherlock spoke about it, John couldn't help but feel like there was something more, some other reason for Sherlock knowing all this about the detective inspector. “Sherlock. Why do you know this? You delete the unimportant, yet keep the details about Lestrade's courting? How did you even find it out?”
A pained look crossed Sherlock's face as he turned away, eyes growing distant for a moment, almost as if he had to compose himself. “He asked me, once. He and I, we tried to be- But I couldn't be what he needed. You can, and he can be what you need, so grab your jacket and go already, there's a cab that'll be here any minute, I don't want you late.”
John was speachless for a moment, mind full of questions, and it must have been obvious by the look on his face, because Sherlock was standing with a huff, grabbing his jacket, and throwing it at him. “Go already, John! I don't want to have to do something like dissecting toes just to get you to go.”
John nodded at last, moving in a rush, before it occurred to him. “Wait, cab? How's it pa-”
“Card, over phone. OUT.”
At that, John gave a nod, heading down the stairs, nearly running into Mrs. Hudson coming up the stairs with tea. “I've been banished for the night, Mrs. Hudson, keep an eye on him?”
“Of course I will, dear.” she said with a smile. “And you have a good night, enjoy yourself!”
- - -
When John arrived at the bar, Greg was already seated at a booth, still drink-less, and looking more nervous than Molly asking if Sherlock wanted coffee. It brought a small smile to his face as he walked over, knowing that this man was human, this man could and did get nervous waiting for people. It was such a welcome change of pace from living with the man that knew your thoughts before you thought them.
“Lestrade!” he called, waving an arm to catch the other man's eye. His grin grew when he saw the smile on Greg's face from seeing him as he made his way over to sit next to him. “Sorry I'm late, got caught up in my blog, and it was Sherlock of all people who reminded me I had to come tonight.” He laughed a little, doing his best not to study the reaction, detail it out like Sherlock was always doing to him.
“Greg, please, John. No need to be formal away from the yard.” Greg gestured to a waitress, who immediately turned to fill up two pints. “I hope you don't mind my regular, they know me here, and kind of expect it from my company..”
“Not a problem, Greg. You know what's good here, least I can do is drink it.”
The grins were infectious tonight, and by the time the third round of drinks arrived, both were doubled over laughing. “-and then, you would not believe this, wait, you live with him, of course you'd believe it! And then he turned and left, both Anderson and Donovan just standing there, speechless!”
“No way! He actually, that's almost touching him. Are you sure it was actually Sherlock?”
“Yup. Pants him. And everyone found out he wears dinosaur boxers. Fucking dinosaurs. I mean, really?”
“That is rich. And Donovan still sleeps with him? When he's married, and wears dinosaur boxers? She has some taste.” John took another long drink from his pint, nearly draining it.
“Yes, well, there's no accounting for taste in anyone. Take me, for example.” Greg gestured to himself with a sigh, only the slightest of wry smiles on his lips.
“Oh, come on now, I'm not that bad, am I?” John gave a wink with his pout, trying to make it clear he was trying to joke, poke run, rather than seriously asking.
“Well, before you there was Sherlock, so that can be case and point for me.” The man before him grinned, draining his own pint, eyes daring John to do something, which he did, though it might not have been what he was expecting. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Greg's damp lips, licking his own as he pulled back.
“Sherlock means bad taste? Suppose we're both in the same boat there, then.” he leaned in for another soft kiss. “But I have to say he definitely has good taste, if he tried with you. Gave you a glowing recommendation.”
Greg laughed into yet another languid kiss, glad there were multiple pint glasses on the table. Doing this in his regular bar with no signs of intoxication could be deadly for a blokes reputation for good behavior and lack of PDA. “He gave you a good review too, before insisting I set this up. Which I take it you don't mind?”
There was just a hint of worry in that voice which John wanted to kiss away again. It was so insecure, almost pained behind the joking facade. “No. Sherlock can play matchmaker between us two all he wants. This is the best damn date I've had since moving back to London. Though that might be-” he paused for another kiss before pulling farther back, “-because he hasn't insisted on inserting himself through more than just texts. Well, as far as I can tell.”
“Oh good. I rather like the bride he picked for me.” There was a wicked smirk on Greg's face as he pressed forward to kiss John with force, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth to nibble gently and earn himself a moan from his sweet lips.
“Can't say I much mind that. Though the way you say it, often have fantasies of someone in a white dress?” there was the sound of a smirk in his voice, even as he turned away with a blush.
“I might... I'll tell you after the next date, how's that?” Greg's voice held an answering smile that made John turn to grin at him.
“Perfect.”