A/N: Being a little cheeky here, but just wondering if anyone reading along would be willing to give some feedback in the form of a review? There seem to be quite a few followers, but I'm always interested to know what you like/don't like so I can develop my writing :-) Two more chapters after this one I think.
Sherlock rang up to Greg's flat and waited impatiently shifting from foot to foot for him to join him on the street. When he did he wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed their lips together in a lingering kiss breathing in the spicy scent of his aftershave and reveling in holding all that man close.
"Hmm, if you continue kissing me like that I may just drag you straight upstairs. I like this affectionate you." Greg grinned. "Where are we going anyway?"
"It's a surprise, and I really hope you're going to enjoy it. You look gorgeous by the way."
Greg laughed out loud at the unaccustomed compliment falling from Sherlock's lips.
"Who's been getting you to practice being nice?"
"Molly," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Actually she suggested the venue for our evening tonight, so if you hate it, it's her fault. I've never dated so I have no idea what it involves."
"Never? Not even with...?"
"Nope. It wasn't something that ever had a place in my life."
"Well it's generally just two people who enjoy each other's company doing stuff together. There's often kissing involved. And I guess if you get on really well it can end in hot sex if both parties are up for it."
"We don't seem to have much trouble in that department."
Sherlock let him go reluctantly before the temptation to move directly to the hot sex part of the evening grew too great. For all he'd known Greg for years he'd realized he didn't know a great deal about him, and Molly said dating was about getting to know the person so you had something to talk about when you weren't having sex. They had spent the afternoon trying to figure out something Greg would like to do that Sherlock would find bearable too. Molly had finally given him a five minute lecture on 'compromise being the key to a successful relationship' and had insisted he take her two tickets to a club that played live music because she 'wasn't lucky enough to have a hot guy desperate to spend time with her and he better not screw it up!' Molly Hooper could be shockingly bossy at times.
Sherlock hailed a cab without any trouble and ten minutes later they pulled up outside a battered silver door sandwiched between a bank and a designer clothes shop. A heavily muscled bouncer in black dress trousers and a tight black t-shirt stood guard at the entrance, alert but chatting to a blue-haired girl sitting in the ticket booth. The black painted sign read 'What Lies Beneath'. Greg raised a questioning eyebrow and Sherlock grinned, handing over the tickets and leading the way down the stairs into the noisy gloom.
Greg was impressed by the venue in all its shabbiness. Every available scrap of wall was plastered with band posters from every genre of music he could imagine, and some that even he had never heard of in spite of his extensive record collection. The room was much larger than he had expected from the understated entrance on the street, and even boasted a reasonable sized stage at one end where a band were running through some last minute sound checks before their performance, though they had to compete with the music blaring from the DJ's sound system for the moment.
"Wow, how did I not know about this place? The only things to make it perfect would be a carpet so sticky it rips your shoes off as you walk and a thick fog of smoke."
"Health and safety did for the smoke. If you need a cigarette there's a yard out back apparently."
They bought drinks - a couple each so they didn't have to battle their way back to the bar too soon - then took up a spot near the edge of the crowd in front of the stage. Sherlock found himself watching Greg who was eagerly watching everything that was going on around him, eyes flicking from the stage, to the dance floor and roaming over the walls, with his huge beaming smile.
"I love it, and that's before the band!"
He leaned in and pecked him on the cheek, startling Sherlock so much he almost spilled his beer. He looked around, worried they might have attracted negative attention, but no one seemed to be remotely interested in them since the band were taking to the stage. They played for an hour and were actually very good, although their style of music wasn't much to his taste. Greg nodded along though and even sang a couple of songs that he explained - yelling in Sherlock's ear - were covers of one of his favorite bands. When they finished the crowd went wild, applauding and cheering like they were headlining Wembley Stadium not a little rock club in the depths of London.
They didn't stay long after the band finished being more inclined to eat than dance. A few hundred yards along the road they found the Indian restaurant Molly had also recommended and tumbled inside, chatting and laughing. Sherlock was surprising himself at how easy and natural it felt being with Greg outside a work context, though obviously the four pints of beer he'd consumed had a relaxing effect. He wasn't drunk but he certainly felt mellow and happy. They were the only customers as it was still early. They ordered lamb madras for Greg, chicken biryani for him and tucked into the pile of poppadums and pickles, crunching noisily while they waited for their meals.
"This is quite a good second date."
"Yes, but we do this all the time with other people like John. You drink beer with him and I go to food places with him. And sometimes I even do it with Molly!" Sherlock giggled.
Greg snorted a laugh. "You have never done it with Molly!"
"Food Greg, I have done food with Molly, don't be childish." He scolded but he was laughing.
"So what's your point? What makes it a date?"
"Exactly!"
"We could hold hands like we did in Durham?" Greg gripped Sherlock's wrist in a poor imitation of the detective's pulse-taking technique. "But don't get me beaten up this time. Does this feel like a date now?"
"Feels a bit dumb. And the waiters think we're drunk. Perhaps we should behave or we'll get evicted before we eat and I'm starving!"
Later in the taxi back to Baker Street Greg slid his arm around Sherlock so they could kiss. He stroked the tip of his tongue teasingly over his lover's lower lip tasting garlic, chilli and Sherlock, and it was delicious. Sherlock's lips parted, allowing him inside to caress the edges of his teeth and the smooth underside of his top lip, and then his fingers were sliding up Greg's back trying to pull him closer. A sharp rap on the partition from the driver brought them abruptly back to reality. "None of that!" He griped, glaring at them in his rear view mirror.
Greg giggled "I guess this makes it a date."
