Gregson took one look at Jones and knew.

"It's your turn."

Jones snorted at the assertion but did not look up from the note he was writing.

"Must be absolutely miserable for the two of you, you're both about as sociable as an oyster." Gregson continued, as if he hadn't been entirely on edge for an entire day before-and after-being forced to have dinner with Lestrade.

Jones rolled his eyes as he finished his note and folded the sheet of paper in half. Flagging down a fresh-faced constable Gregson was not certain he had met yet, Jones handed off the note with orders to "See that Mrs. Jones gets that immediately," followed by his address.

The boy took off, and Gregson raised an eyebrow. "Letting the Mrs. know you won't be home for dinner?" The other man favored him with a smile that was downright malicious.

"Abigail will never let me hear the end of it if I don't let her know we are invited to the Lestrades' for dinner as soon as possible," he said.

Gregson stared. Jones offered him another smile, this one smug. Not usually the least bit interested in sharing his personal life with anyone at work, he had nonetheless decided to make an exception, just this once, namely because Gregson had been doing this for years, hoping to get some sort of rise out of him.

Frankly, Jones was tired of the man being a menace to work with for two days straight and then turning around and taunting him for receiving the very same invitation not long after.

"Abigail is always included in the invitation." Jones clarified.

"Bet that takes some of the pressure off." Gregson grumbled, trying to decide whether or not to be jealous.

"Most of it, actually." Jones agreed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork I need to start on. I have plans for this evening."