"I'm going to the store!" John semi-shouted to Sherlock, who was sitting on his usual chair, from the kitchen. There was absolutely nothing in the refrigerator-except for a few severed ears and a tongue, as usual.
"Don't forget to pick up some milk!"
As John was crossing living room of the flat to get to the door, he noticed a manilla folder on the coffee table. He was used to seeing folders and stacks of paper pertaining to suspects, but this one caught John's eye. This one was different.
"Sherlock," he said, pausing by the table. He picked up the folder and started opening it. "Why do you have Lestrade's file?"
Sherlock, without looking up at John, replied, "It was for a case."
"What case?"
"Lestrade was accused of stealing someone's watch, and I solved the case. That's what I do. I solve cases."
"That sounds a bit-"
"Trivial, I know," said Sherlock, "but Lestrade insisted that I prove his innocence. He was on the other side of London when it happened. Couldn't have been him."
"Then what are you still doing with the folder?"
"The case was this morning," said Sherlock with an exasperated sigh, "and I haven't returned the file to the police station yet."
John casually leafed through the folder, hardly even paying attention, but stopped when he saw a photograph of Lestrade that was taken about fifteen years earlier.
"Huh," John commented, "It's weird to see Lestrade this young when I've only known him for a short while." Sherlock didn't respond, but John did not expect him to; he was more talking to himself than to his flatmate. "He was quite handsome when he was younger."
"John, I thought you liked women," Sherlock remarked.
"I do like women," John replied.
"Then why did you say he was handsome?"
"Because he was a handsome young lad, that's all."
"But how can you comment on Lestrade's physical appearance in such a way if you are attracted to women?"
"I never said I find him attractive! He had a nice… jawline and… haircut. That's it."
"Are you saying he's deteriorated over the years?"
"Ye-no! His jawline is perfectly fine right now!"
"You still think he's attractive, then."
"Sherlock, I am not attracted to Greg!"
"Greg?" Sherlock asked, obviously confused. "Who is Greg?"
"Sherlock! Greg is his first name. It even says it on the bloody folder!"
"Oh, you mean Lestrade." John put the folder, open to the picture of Lestrade's younger self, on the table. Sherlock sat up and looked at it. "I guess you're right. He could be viewed as aesthetically pleasing in the sense of his jawline and haircut."
John knew exactly what to say. Trying to hide his smirk, he said, "So you think he's attractive."
"No, John, I'm just saying that if I were a woman-"
"You're attracted to him?" John now had a big smile on his face, impossible to cover up. Sherlock looked up and saw this.
"John, I know what you're trying to do here."
"Oh, was it that obvious?"
"I do not appreciate sarcasm. You started it anyway. It's not my fault that you try to date women to hide your attraction to men."
"Sherlock… I am not gay!"
At this point, Mrs. Hudson, who had coincidentally heard none of the conversation, walked in with a plate of biscuits for the two men. As she entered the kitchen, she noticed the photograph on the coffee table.
"Oh, who is this? He's handsome!" She leaned in close to Sherlock, thinking that John couldn't hear her. "Did you finally find John a boyfriend?"
John heard all of this and exclaimed in frustration, "That's it. I'm going to the store!"