Four faces were aglow from the light of the television screen. Lestrade bent over to insert a disk into the console.
"Sorry about the mess. The wife's gone to stay with her sister for awhile."
"P.E. teacher," Sherlock replied.
"Yeah, alright. Well she's not here so the place is..."
"Fine, it's all fine," John interjected, glaring over at Sherlock.
"This is a game?" Sherlock asked.
"You're joking, right?" Lestrade said. "It's a video game. Don't tell me you've never played a video game!"
John pushed the wheel and Wii remote into Sherlock's hands.
"It's easy. As easy as driving. You'll do fine," John assured him.
Five minutes later Lestrade was laughing so hard he was crying. Even Molly giggled as Sherlock became more and more flustered.
"Don't shake the wheel there, you'll keep falling off the edge. There he goes again!" Lestrade held his sides, fighting the mirth trying to escape him. "My ribs hurt I'm laughing so hard."
"Confound this thing! This is nothing like driving John. It's a game specifically designed to infuriate anyone playing it."
"Let's play something else. Before Sherlock throws the remote at the telly," John suggested.
"There's more?" Sherlock asked, appalled.
"There's a sports game. Table tennis, ten pin bowling, that sort of thing," John said.
"I love bowling!" Molly said, then immediately covered her mouth like she'd spit out something offensive.
"No how, Molls. You aided and abetted a known consulting detective," John said.
"Actually I'd love to see Sherlock try and bowl," Lestrade said. He sat on the sofa next to Molly, one arm casually draped on her shoulder. Molly glanced at Lestrade and gave him a weak smile.
"I'll go first. So you can see how it's done," John said.
Five minutes later no one was laughing. Sherlock's first roll had been a gutter ball and John had expected another outburst. Instead those shrewd eyes catalouged every motion John made as he got strike after strike. Sherlock hadn't missed a pin since.
Sherlock threw his virtual ball and ten pins neatly folded down again.
"Right, done with this then," Lestrade said, grabbing the remote and nunchuck from Sherlock's hand. "Let's get pissed instead."
"I have to work tomorrow," Molly said. She stood up and Lestrade removed his arm from the back of the sofa and sighed.
"Next week?" he asked.
"At my flat," Molly volunteered.
"Text me the address," Lestrade said as he walked her to the door.
Molly nodded and hurried out. Sherlock watched her until she disappeared from view.
"We have to get going too. Thanks Greg. See you next week."