A/N: A little bit of same-sex flirting, just a warning in case you're not comfy with that kind of thing... all pretty tame really. Bands and songs referenced are also favourites, but sadly I own nothing to do with them, or Sherlock. Please review.
Sherlock had moved so he could watch Greg chatting to the dark-haired man at the bar. He deduced that it must be the male suspect Greg had told him about, and that his friend had decided to begin flirting already because he'd casually touched the man no less than four times during the course of their smiling conversation. He was younger than Greg, around forty, works out, but not to build muscle. Attractive, and clearly very interested in the policeman. He watched Greg purchase two more beers and wend his way back to him.
"Our suspect I presume? Or one of them at least," he asked in a low tone. Greg nodded. "Who was that you were talking to?" He demanded loudly, startling Greg who took a moment to realise this was part of their act. Sherlock's convincing irritated tone and the sharp glances he cast towards Joe, who was now laughing beside Beth at the bar made Greg uneasy for real.
"Oh, um... Some guy called Joe. We were just chatting. He was nice."
Sherlock swallowed down most of his bottle of beer, a feat Greg would never have imagined he was capable, and scowled at his imaginary boyfriend. "Drink up, I want to dance." The DJ was mixing Bronski Beat and Frankie Goes To Hollywood, and it seemed to be a hit with the crowd. They braved the press of bodies on the dance floor to claim a tiny amount of space as their own. It was difficult to do more than bob in one spot without an elbow or backside thrusting into their personal space, so it wasn't long before Sherlock grew frustrated.
"Too crowded," he muttered, grabbing Greg's arm and pressing through the throng to the edge of the dance floor once more. Greg could only follow unable to wrest his forearm from Sherlock's tight grip. He hauled him to the bar and herded Greg with his body to the far end where the coloured lights didn't quite banish the shadows. A barman paused from washing glasses to serve them more lager, and then discreetly left them to it.
"So, the guy called Joe is our man, and the woman beside him is his partner?"
"Yes." Greg yelped as the other man grabbed him in a passionate clinch. "Sherlock! For god's sake give me some warning before you…"
"Stare into my eyes!" The detective commanded, and Greg found himself pinned into the corner by Sherlock's body. The detective was gazing somewhere over Greg's left shoulder rather than into his eyes, and a slight shift of Greg's head revealed a mirror behind them.
"What are you doing?" He hissed through gritted teeth somewhere near Sherlock's lace-covered collar bone. With every shaky breath he inhaled more of the detective's unique scent which was bewildering and too damn good. A moment later Sherlock stepped away and handed Greg his drink as though nothing had occurred.
"The woman went to dance again," he said by way of explanation.
They finished their bottles quickly and in silence, Greg trying not to flinch when Sherlock moved behind him and slid his arm around his stomach, pulling him back to lean against his chest. Sherlock dipped his head close to Greg's ear. "You're too tense, relax! No one will believe we're lovers if you jump every time I touch you. Even if I am an obnoxious possessive git..." Greg forced some if the tension from his shoulders and leaned against the detective. "Much better," whispered Sherlock against his neck. Christ. Greg closed his eyes for a moment, suppressing a moan. Sherlock wouldn't have a clue that that particular spot on his neck was so damn sensitive... Blood started to rush towards parts it had no business being at this moment, forcing Greg to pull away from the detective abruptly and march away to the Gents without a word or backwards glance. Sherlock stared after him in confusion and was about to follow when he felt a touch on his arm.
"Trouble in Paradise, sweetie? Leave him to stew, come dance with me," the red-haired woman drawled, trailing her fingers down his forearm. He watched their progress down the black canvas until they ghosted over the back of his pale hand. Reflexively he curled his long fingers around hers and allowed her to pull him onto the dance floor, the pulsing pop beat of Heaven 17's 'Temptation' finally filtering into his brain.
Mary and John were still dancing nearby, relishing their first night out as a couple since the birth of their daughter. Mary tugged on John's sleeve, manoeuvring her husband until they were both in a position to watch the detective and his female partner on the dance floor. Sherlock turned out to be a fabulous dancer, and the woman matched him perfectly, jigging and writhing around him as the music morphed from one up-tempo beat to another. John hadn't been able to imagine the man in this sort of setting, but just as he seemed to fit the outfit, the whole 80s dance theme seemed to perfectly fit him.
"How does he even know this music? He would've only been a little kid when it was out," John yelled over the song.
"Older brother's influence?" Mary called back.
"Really? Can't see this being Mycroft's scene, can you?" They both laughed at the thought of the stuffy, elegant man, dancing to electric pop music. The music changed to a slower track and John put his hands on his wife's hips, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips. "I love this record. Probably a mood-killer but I bought it for my first girlfriend."
"Feels Like Heaven? I remember kissing my best friend at the school disco when it was on."
John's step faltered. "Your best friend was a boy... Right?" Mary grinned and winked. "Bloody hell, Mary Watson, there are some of your mysteries that I don't mind uncovering! That is so..."
"Sexy?"
"Mmmm!" He kissed her again with rather more heat than was appropriate for the dance floor. "Want to find a quiet corner and have a snog?" He laughed.
"Maybe later... I'm not fourteen anymore. And we're supposed to be assisting in an experiment remember?"
They looked across at Sherlock who was now dancing closely with the woman with the wild red hair. He whispered something in her ear and she threw back her head laughing in genuine delight. "He's doing fine without us."
"Yes, but maybe Greg could do with some support?" She nodded to where their friend was leaning against the wall, a beer in each hand, eyes glued to Sherlock and the woman, an odd look on his face. "You do realise this little experiment of yours could backfire don't you? I think our friend may care about the outcome a little more than he's letting on." They watched as Sherlock and Greg exchanged a glance before Sherlock deliberately turned the woman away from him and pressed himself closer still. The girl giggled, writhing against him. Greg looked sick.
"Bloody hell," muttered John. "Is he flirting to make Greg jealous? I thought the plan was the other way around?"
"If he flirts like that much harder that girl will come away pregnant," quipped Mary, then seeing John's face she quickly apologised. "Come on, I think Greg needs distracting. Oh!"
She stopped dead, John crashing into her back as she realised Greg was talking animatedly with a very attractive dark haired man. The younger man was leaning in close, his hand resting lightly on Greg's shoulder. They watched the couple on the dance floor for a moment and laughed together. The younger man touched Greg's face, one finger tracing the silver-haired man's jaw.
"Do you know the couple Greg was going to ask to do a bit of flirting?" Mary asked.
"No, why? Greg thought it better I didn't so I couldn't give the game away."
"Just wondered..."
