'Television'
Ianto was perched on the edge of his sofa, glass of merlot gently swirling in one hand and his eyes firmly fixed on his television screen. Jack was slumped next to him, thoroughly regretting his decision to let Ianto deicide what they did after work.
"When I said what we did was up to you" he nuzzled gently against his lover's ear, "this wasn't quite what I had in mind."
Ianto swatted him away without letting his eyes leave the screen. "Yes well," he muttered "that would be what differentiates you from Sherlock. You had your head in your trousers. Sherlock would have DEDUCED that all I wanted was to catch up on his program, by his amazing mind powers."
Jack pouted.
"Come on, I'm definitely the Sherlock in this outfit. You're the Watson."
He succeeded in deferring Ianto's attention from the television set but instead of the reaction he was hoping to induce he found himself on the end of a fairly frightening glare.
"How so?"
"Well," Jack grinned "a trusty sidekick, good at the paperwork, pretty decent shot, lots of sizzling sexual tension with the snazzy star who just happens to have a swishy trenchcoat? I'm so Sherlock."
"I'm facing away from you, not maintaining eye contact with anything but the television. My shoulders are arched away from you and even though you're leaning into me I'm not responding. You're pouting at me but I'm in my sleeping clothes and I've still got my comms on. And, you haven't done any of the paperwork I asked you to sort so I could archive it. Do you know what you can rationalise from that, jack?"
The captain shrugged.
"You're getting nothing tonight. I'm making you do the paperwork. And I'm holding your sex life in my hands. I'm so Sherlock."
Jack looked at him in mock horror.
Ianto smirked.
"And anyway, Sherlock so has the hots for Moriarty…"
