Couple 1
On a regular day, Greg gets home before Mycroft. Today was no exception. He walks through his front door at 6:32 PM and stretches. Greg always stretches when he steps through his front door. He breaths in and realizes his smells like sweat. He gets to his room and sets out a new set of clothes and sets off to his bathroom.
While he's in the shower, Mycroft arrives. Mycroft can hear the shower running and sees Greg's clean clothes on the bed. He goes to the bed; he strokes his hand over Greg's soft shirt; he goes to the bathroom.
"Hey, I didn't hear you come in," Greg says to Mycroft.
"I just got here," Mycroft splashes water over his face. "How was your day?"
"Fine. Had another lovely encounter with your brother."
"Oh, of course."
"He called me an idiot seventeen times."
Mycroft refrains from saying, 'Then maybe you shouldn't act like an idiot,' like he would to anybody. Instead, he says, "An idiot knows idiots when he sees one." Which, really isn't much better, but Greg knows the point of that comment is that Sherlock's the idiot.
"How was yours?" Greg asks, turning the water off.
"It was fine. Nothing eventful."
"Good." Greg wraps a towel around his waist and goes to the sink, where Mycroft is loosening his tie. Greg runs his fingers through his hair. "I think I need a haircut," he says.
"Don't be absurd. It's fine."
"I think I want to consider dyeing it, what do you think?"
Mycroft stops to stare at Greg, "Are you insane?"
"What?"
Mycroft forcefully runs his fingers through Greg's hair and lightly pulls, "I love the gray."
"Yeah? Well, you're lucky. Your hair's still dark."
Mycroft pulls Greg's head to him and kisses Greg. Greg smiles and pushes the kiss deeper. Their bodies fully meet in a hug as deep as their kiss.
"Mmm," Greg pulls away, "Sorry, I'm getting you all wet."
"That's all right, I'm going to change anyway." Mycroft kisses Greg again.
"Could you wear that black sweater Sherlock gave you for Christmas? It's in the closet."
"Could you not mention my annoying little brother while we're making out?"
"My pleasure."
"I missed you today, you know that?"
"I do, you sent me about fifteen text messages."
"It was ten."
"Big difference."
"Oh, you like it, Detective Inspector."
"Yes, yes I do."
Sometimes small talk comes easy between Greg and Mycroft, sometimes it's not so easy. But today all that needs to be conveyed is the feelings.
Couple 2
Sherlock talks a lot. A hell of a lot. We all know that. But the one person that knows that most is Doctor John Watson. He listens a lot. A hell of a lot. And he's good at it. And he loves it. You know why? Because a certain consulting detective can certainly exhaust himself into a coma from talking so damn much.
So John? He just lets Sherlock talk away.
"What did you do today, Sherlock?"
"Well, I had to go across town to a scene with Lestrade and he's ever so idiotic and dull and sonot you. Take it as a compliment, please," Sherlock took a sip of his tea, "Mycroft wouldn't stop texting him. It was very annoying and distracting because Greg won't set his phone to vibrate, which is much more practical when Mycroft texts him ten timesin less than one hour-"
"I can't imagine who else does that," John says, but Sherlock ignores him.
"It was a really fun case, actually. A woman killed her husband and actually tried to blame it on the dog. Could you imagine? How absurd. The murder weapon was the side of the coffee table. This was very strategically placed, obviously. The carpet tracks indicated it had been moved that very morning. The bone he tripped on, also strategically placed. Not by the dog."
"Mmmm," John mumbles.
"Then, I had lunch."
"Did you?"
"I had a ham sandwich. I made it myself. Not as good as you make it, of course. You make them very well, John, often I wonder how you do it. You're like magic John, a little man of magic."
"Little?"
Sherlock actually pays attention to John this time, "Well, not in some places." Sherlock winks at John. John winks back. "After lunch I went to Bart's to pick up new fingers from Molly."
"You were at Bart's this afternoon? I was at Bart's this afternoon."
"You were?"
"Yes, when were you there?"
"Around two."
"How did I not run into you?"
"I was in and out."
"Oh."
"These fingers, John? Perfect for my next experiment. The man had poor circulation, I was lucky to get them. I can't wait to start my experiments."
"Good."
"What did you do today, John?" Sherlock throws a hand up to stop John, "No, no, allow me. You were late to work, right? No, I didn't work that out, I did the math; you didn't leave me until ten after. You had a salad for lunch; I know that because you have a small smudge on your tie. That and your breath smells like lettuce. I hate that, John. You had a full day, you haven't sat much today. I'm sorry. Not many difficult patients, though, you're not grouchy or sad or angry. Actually, you're quite pleased today, did Sarah hit on you? That does it, she's getting a picture message next week—"
"You wouldn't dare, you awful man."
"I would."
John rolls his eyes, "What else did I do today, my lovely detective?"
"You came home. Was there more?"
"There was."
"What else did you do?"
"Well, I went to the store and bought you something."
"Yes?"
"Guess."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"No! Don't deduce. Guess."
"A new scarf?"
"No."
"A bottle of wine?"
"No."
"Socks?"
"Why would I buy you socks and make it a game?"
"I don't know the way your mind works, John. Just tell me."
John goes to the freezer and opens it, revealing an ice cream cake. Sherlock's eyes brighten with joy, he loves chocolate and ice cream and cake, it's all perfect. He goes to John and hugs him tight.
"Oh, you marvelous man." Sherlock kisses John's cheek, then lips.
"You're welcome."
There's no such thing as small talk in 221B, it's all long paragraphs until John finally finds something to shut his consulting detective up.
Couple 3
Jim and Sebastian hardly have any down time. It's all clients and work with them. And that's perfectly fine, do you think two men like James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran could act any differently? Well, maybe if they really tried.
They aren't a conventional couple by any means. There's Jim, who of course is our favorite consulting criminal, and there's his boyfriend Sebastian, who doesn't even like to be called, 'boyfriend'. Of course, that's better than what Doctor Watson once called him ('Moriarty's Errand Boy'). Anyway, Jim's boyfriend isn't conventional at all, he kills people for a living for goodness sakes.
So what's to say these two men have small talk like normal human beings? They don't, mind you. The most normal conversation they've had in a while was about poisonous snakes, and that's because Sebastian got so bored one day he watched the animal channel for six hours.
These men like to have conversations about things that interest them, and let's just say it's interesting to them.
"No, Jim, the best way to kill a man without your hands is with your skull."
"Your skull, Seb? No, no. No. No. What? No."
"Tell me, then. Tell me how to kill a man without your hands?"
"Well, there's this fancy contraption that was built in the 700's by the Chinese. You actually love it so much, it's practically glued to your hand. It's called a firearm, Seb—"
"No! No firearms. No hands, no firearms."
"Water? Drown them."
"In a fight, how would you get someone on the ground and out without your hands, a gun, or water."
"Let me think, I'd probably punch—"
"No hands!"
"Fine! Let's see, I'd kick them down, probably. Then kick their ribs and kidneys."
"So cliché."
"And you? What would you do?"
"Head-butt them."
"Head-buttthem?"
"Yeah, in the face or chest. Face would definitely get them down for the count, but chest would knock the wind out of them, rendering them light headed."
"Please, your head is not that hard."
"You want me to demonstrate?"
"No, thanks."
"Anyway, after that I'd kick them in each of the areas it really counts: kidney, ribs, anus—"
"You'd put your foot up their ass?"
"No, I'd put them in pain."
"You dirty man."
"That's not what I meant."
"Sure, Seb."
"You're practically asking me to demonstrate the perfect murder."
"I'm not saying anything. You said anus."
Sebastian stands and walks towards the kitchen.
"Speaking of—" Jim begins.
"Nope."
Jim shrugs, "Whatever. You're still wrong. My methods are better."
"I'd probably just use a gun."
"You said no guns!"
"I changed my mind. Why wouldn't I use a gun?"
"Have you ever done that, have you ever head-butted someone to death?"
"I mean, I didn't kill them. I did head-butt someone, though."
Jim smiles as Sebastian leaves the room. Oh, he's useful. He's really useful,Jim thinks.