John cursed when the door slammed shut behind him. He hadn't meant to be that rough with it, but it was just the day he had having an effect on him. If he was to hear one more sneeze, or encounter another paranoid mother all because of her child coughing, he would probably explode.
Not to mention he was hungry, tired, and his shoulder ached.
Today was just not his day.
"Bad day." Sherlock acknowledged, watching John from the kitchen door with an arched eyebrow. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and he had what looked liked a handprint of flour on the front.
"Great deduction." John grumbled and threw his coat over the back of the couch. He flopped down onto the couch and kicked his shoes off, perfectly content to just not move for the rest of the evening. "Put the kettle on, will you?"
"No need." Greg poked his head out from around the door and held up John's cup. "Nearly done here."
John noted that he was wearing an apron, red and dusted with flour. Actually, now that he was sitting down, John noticed flour all over Greg, and some in Sherlock's hair. And there was a mouthwatering aroma wafting in from the kitchen.
"What are you two up to?" John asked, going to stand up. He was pushed back down again by Sherlock, who pecked his forehead.
"You'll see. Relax, John. Here," Sherlock reached behind him to pull forward the suede pouffe. "Put your feet up."
John hesitated for a moment before letting Sherlock manhandle him into a comfortable position. Sherlock joined Greg in the kitchen (after warning John to stay put) and returned a moment later with Greg in tow, the older of the two carrying a tray.
Greg set the tray down on the table and pulled it closer to the couch. "We figured that since you weren't back by five you were having a long day. And you look stressed."
John snorted, though the greater part of his annoyance had subsided a bit. "You could say that."
Greg sat down next to him and pulled him into a hug. John relaxed, wrapping his arms around the DI's torso, and let his body sag. Yes, he had had a bloody awful day and so what if he was actually craving this attention.
Sherlock cleared his throat. When John looked up again, the younger man was holding out a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits.
"Thanks, love. What are these?"
"Oat cookies." Sherlock smiled, sitting on the other side of John. "I made them."
"Excuse you! I did all the hard work. All you did was mix the ingredients together.
Sherlock sniffed and held his chin high, muttering something about mixing being the most important part. Trust him to be proud of his mixing skills.
John laughed, tipping his head back against the couch, and wrapped his free arm around Sherlock's waist. "Thank you both. I needed this." He grinned and leaned up to give Sherlock a small kiss.
"Don't I get one too?" Greg grinned and tilted John's chin up to meet his mouth. "Now, eat your cookies and drink your tea. I'm going for a shower." He gestured down to his flour-caked body. He gave the pair a wink and disappeared up the stairs (though not before giving John just one more kiss.)
"Oh god... There, oh yes, Sherlock."
Sherlock's fingers worked out the knots on John's back, slipping between his shoulderblades and then over the plains of his shoulders, before traveling down to the small of his back. He was straddling the backs of John's thighs.
"Mf, you're good at this." John groaned, lifting his head from the pillow to breathe. He turned his head in time to see Greg stroll in from his shower, steam still rising from his skin and a small towel wrapped around his waist. He watched as a single bead of water ran down his chest and stomach and then disappeared into his bellybutton.
Greg raised his eyebrows at the two of them.
"So that's what you two are up to." The DI smirked and padded over to perch on the edge of the bed.
"John's very tense." Sherlock murmured. Greg tried not to look at how his hips rolled up into John every time he rubbed upwards. "I thought I'd get him started on the relaxation thing."
"Relaxation - ah - thing?" John opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - and looked back between Sherlock and Greg. Sherlock chuckled and Greg grinned, leaning over to give John a soft kiss. John opened his mouth and Greg took full advantage of that, waiting for Sherlock to slide off the doctor before pulling him up onto his knees. The bed dipped behind John and he felt warm hands slide around his waist.
"Should we tell him, Sherlock?"
"Nah." Sherlock let one of his hands slide lower over John's abdomen, while the other reached over and tugged at Greg's towel. "Let's show him instead."