A/N Sherlock, John and Lestrade are not mine.

The pub was bustling with activity and there was an air of anticipation. England were about to play a game which would guarantee them a place in the final but only if they won.

John had found himself being invited to watch the game with Lestrade and some of his friends. He'd only gone to drop some evidence back off at Scotland Yard when Lestrade had suggested he join them for a beer. Finding himself without an excuse not to and an actual desire to go, John had accepted the offer and was now sat with Michael and Gareth, at a table, in The Old Mill.

Michael and Gareth were old friends of Lestrade who were not in the police but were a lawyer and a plumber respectively. Michael had befriended Lestrade when the detective had had to take the stand himself during a case that had gone 'slightly wrong'. John wished he knew the details of that but decided not to question it after noting the rather pained expressions that crossed the men's faces. Gareth was simply Lestrade's neighbour. John found both men affable and he was enjoying being part of a 'gang' again even if it was only for this one night when the big football game was on.

John used to go out for drinks quite a bit before he joined the army. Had his own friends that he could rely on for a laugh and generally have a good evening with down the pub. Of course, that had all changed.

"Cheers," John said as Lestrade placed a pint down in front of him and returned to his seat at the table.

"Tough day, Greg?" Gareth asked noting the heavy sigh Lestrade let out as he sat.

"Huh? Oh...paperwork. Mountain of it," Lestrade responded.

"Too much of that these days," Michael said sympathetically.

"See, that's why I chose a more practical profession," Gareth said taking a sip of his pint.

"Funny, that's what I thought I'd signed on for," Lestrade stated. He nodded over to the TV Screen across the room, "Have they announced the team?"

"Not yet," Gareth said.

"So, John, Greg here tells us that as well as being a doctor, you work with Sherlock Holmes?" Michael questioned leaning on the table.

"Er...yeah, I help. Where I can." John was unsure of how to respond.

"You do more than that," Lestrade said quietly.

"Apparently he's a complete mad bloke." John interpreted the look Michael was giving him as accusatory which served only to confuse him. Before he'd had time to think of how to react he heard Lestrade;

"Don't start, Michael," It was a gentle but firm warning.

"Oh come on Greg, the other guys at the Yard are always..."

"You've never even met him, alright, so drop it."

"I don't want to meet..."

"Mick!" Lestrade cut him off and jerked his head slightly in John's direction hoping that Michael would stop talking before he went too far. John didn't miss the gesture and was thankful; he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. John wasn't stupid; he was aware that a vast amount of people didn't like Sherlock for one reason or another but he found that, over time, he grown less and less happy and impressed with people insulting the consulting detective in his presence. He'd snapped at Donovan the other week over her childish name-calling.

Michael appeared to get Lestrade's message as he lent back in his chair and offered a 'Sorry' to John. It wasn't sincere; he sounded like a child who had been forced to apologise but John nodded in acceptance anyway.

Any tension that may have followed was diffused by Gareth, whose attention had apparently left the table completely, "Oh bloody hell, they're playing Gerrard on the left again."

"What?" Michael turned his head to face the screen, "Ah, what are they doing that for?"

"He plays better in the centre." Gareth said as if he was pointing out something incredibly obvious.

Michael and Gareth continued to grumble over the team list and even started to argue with other people in the pub about the choices.

Lestrade took this moment to try and apologise properly on his friend's behalf, "Look, John, I'm sorry about Michael. He's..."

"Don't worry about it," John said and then he smirked slightly, "Perhaps, next time, you should invite Sherlock."

Lestrade snorted but he caught something in the other man's expression, "You're not serious?"

John held his glare for a second before breaking out into a grin, "No, I'm not serious. Bloody hell, I don't expect you to want to socialise with him as well."

Lestrade relaxed and took a sip of his pint, "What's he up to tonight then?"

John shook his head, "I've no idea. He took off with an Italian dictionary this afternoon."

"Hey, if you're lucky, he may have gone to Italy."

"Hmm. I wouldn't put it passed him. He'd somehow manage even without a passport," John laughed, "although, actually, I'd be pissed off if he has gone to Italy."

"What? Think of the peace and quiet," Lestrade argued.

"He drags me into some crap places; if he's taken off to Italy without me..."

"Fair enough," Lestrade conceded with a laugh.

The rest of the evening continued with no more talk of Sherlock but plenty of good banter and laughs even though England did the expected and lost the match. John returned to 221B slightly drunk but feeling good. His flatmate was slumped on the sofa asleep so he hadn't missed a trip abroad either. He wandered up to his bedroom hoping that he would get invited to other nights out down the pub...

He was invited to more but only two of those went by before Sherlock appeared...