The Guy at The Restaurant

Sherlock whistled cheerfully, cleaning out a specimen jar in the kitchen of the flat. He put the jar in the cupboard, and took off his goggles. Another successful experiment, he thought. Now he had just one more thing to do: Get John to realize his true feelings for him. John had broken it off with Mary a month ago, telling her he was gay. She took it very well, and she now helped John shop for decent clothing. Sherlock, of course had been ecstatic, and had concluded that John must have feelings for him. He had waited for a month, but nothing. John went out every couple of nights, and came back looking sweaty, slightly misdressed, and smelling of cheap cologne. He hated it. Once, John wandered in wearing his boxers on the outside of his trousers. Sherlock was furious and disappointed inside, but he tried to remain supportive and indifferent on the outside.

Then, one night, Sherlock broke. John was heading towards the door, and Sherlock stopped him. "Watson, where are you going?"

"Just popping out to the pub."

Sherlock knew John was lying. The man was wearing a suit. Sherlock tried to put on a disinterested smile. "That's nice." He could almost hear John's sigh of relief as the door shut. As soon as the front door closed, Sherlock sprang up and grabbed his coat, and a pair of sunglasses. True, it was night time, but he had a mission. He ran down the steps, nearly knocking Mrs. Hudson down on the way out. He stepped out on to the street and glimpsed John walking briskly around the corner. He followed him discreetly for about five blocks, until John went into a fancy bistro. Sherlock's eyes widened with curiosity and he crouched behind some of the fancy bistro's shrubbery. He watched John walk to a table. Sitting at it was... Lestrade? Sherlock sighed. That's a relief, probably just meeting to discuss how to keep me on a short leash. Sherlock was about to get up and leave when he noticed Lestrade get up and kiss John on the cheek. He crouched down again. That was definitely not a business meeting type of welcome. He stared intently at the pair of men. John sat down across from the Lestrade and the two commenced staring googly eyed at each other. Sherlock felt nauseous. He had to stop this. He sprang out of the bushes, frightening an old lady half to death, and rushed into the restaurant. The hostess tried to stop him, but he marched past her ,to John's table. John looked up to find a disheveled and unhappy Sherlock staring down. A twig fell out of Sherlock's mussed hair and into John's wine.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

"I'm having dinner."

"I can see that. But may I ask why you're having a romantic dinner with George?" Sherlock pointed to Lestrade.

Lestrade coughed. "It's Greg."

"Don't try to fool me, I know your name is George."

John sighed in frustration. "It is Greg, actually."

"Likely story. Why are you going out with George?"

"It's still Greg; because we hit it off."

"How?"

"He's a nice guy."

Sherlock sighed. "I can be nice too, John."

John rolled his eyes. "I know Sherlock, I know. But I'm dating George..Greg, damn it Sherlock, now i'm saying it!"

Lestrade sat at the table uncomfortably folding his napkin and staring at the floor. Sherlock grabbed John's arm and pulled him up from the table. Lestrade got up to protest, but John put up his free hand. "It's fine, Greg, this will just take a minute."

Lestrade slowly sat down and recommenced folding his napkin nervously. Sherlock led John to the coat closet.

"What is the matter with you tonight Sherlock? You have never cared who I dated until today."

Sherlock didn't answer. He pushed John up against the wall. John was about to yell in protest but Sherlock silenced him by kissing him fiercely. John was bewildered and Sherlock ran his hands down John's body and stopped at his belt. Sherlock undid the belt and then the button on John's trousers. They fell to the floor, leaving John in a pair of blue striped boxers. John was still shocked and confused and made no move to stop Sherlock. Sherlock pulled down John's boxers and started sucking on his cock. John moaned with pleasure and grabbed the edge of a coat rack to brace himself. The coat rack tipped over and coats went all over the floor with a clatter. John didn't care and neither did Sherlock. He continued giving John a blowjob and John groaned and grabbed at Sherlock's raven curls. John came in Sherlock's mouth and he swallowed. He got up and kissed John again, more gently this time. Sherlock pulled away and smiled. "See, I can be very nice."

John tried to speak, but his voice cracked. "Yes, I can see that."

"That was just the prelude. If we go back to Baker street right now, you can experience everything I've wanted to do to you for months. " John got dressed and grabbed his coat from the pile on the floor. The two men stepped out of the coat closet and met forty pairs of judgmental eyes. John looked away with embarrassment, but Sherlock beamed and strutted towards the door, stopping by Lestrade's table. "Tough luck George. See you at the next murder?" Lestrade didn't make eye contact and vaguely nodded. Sherlock gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and with a guilty glance from John, they left. Lestrade ordered a bottle of Smirnoff and put his head down on the table. This was going to be a long night.