‘When did it happen?’ Greg asks, appearing next to John as he's refilling his and Sherlock’s glasses with punch.
‘When did what happen?’
Greg laughs at John’s feeble attempt at feigned ignorance and nods towards Sherlock, who is leaning against the back wall, gaze fixed on John. ‘You and him. I may not be up to his observational standards but I’m not blind.’
If it were any other of the Yarders doing the asking John would tell them to piss off, but this is Greg.
‘Christmas Day, actually. Apparently we’re a pair of walking clichés.’
Greg gives a snort of laughter, then tilts his head. It’s a clear request for elaboration but John doesn’t rise to it. Except to allow a small (and probably smug, he knows he feels smug), smile to creep onto his face.
‘Well, it took you long enough! No,’ he says quickly, as John starts to frown, ‘seriously, congratulations to you both. I’m really pleased for you.’ His expression is entirely sincere but then a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes and he adds; ‘Although I suppose I should have guessed the date.’
John doesn’t bother to hide his confusion. ‘Why?’
Greg smirks, already chuckling. ‘Because it’s what you do at Christmas, isn’t it? Pull a cracker!’