Strawberrypatty prompted: Secret Relationship "covert" flirting
So because the last post I looked at on tumblr before answering this prompt featured something about goats, I had to incorporate Goat Yoga into this light T rated ficlet. It's set after Sherlock's return in TRF. Hope you like it! (P.S. Not sure how Salstrade managed to sneak in there, esp. since Sally's yoga partner was originally Anderson, but there you have it.)
"Is he…is he…flirting with her?"
"He who?" Greg craned his neck to see what Sally was talking about, grunting a bit as the goat on his back shifted its weight to his shoulders.
"The freak," Sally said, nodding toward Sherlock, although there was no real rancor in her voice. The two of them had come to a tentative detente in their verbal sparring since his return from the dead, but sometimes he still managed to get her go…uh, to piss her the hell off.
Like right now. He was currently lying half underneath Molly Hooper, her back arched and both hands and feet planted on the yoga mat in the classic "Downward Facing Dog" position above him. Her face was only inches from Sherlock's, and something he'd said made her face flush red.
"Nah," Greg said dismissively after studying the scene for a moment. "He's just pissed her off, look, she's hiss-yelling something at him. I think it's the goat," he added as his own goat stepped nimbly off his back and ambled over to nudge Sally in the shoulder. "The one chewing on the corner of Sherlock's mat. Must have dragged him under her or something."
Sally snorted. "Poor Molly, then. At least he isn't actually flirting with her, getting her hopes up after being such a dick to her all these years."
"Even if he were," Greg pointed out as he grunted himself into a human pretzel doing some pose Sally couldn't immediately identify - which, incidentally, showed off exactly how amazingly bendy the Boss was, "we are at a couple's 'Goat Yoga' retreat, posing as married couples so we can find out–"
"How the owner is smuggling his drugs into the UK, yes," Sally interrupted hastily, doing her level best to get her mind back on the case and off of, well, Greg's bendiness. "Back to work." She lay flat on the mat and easily moved into the basic Plough position. If her arse was, incidentally, right in front of Greg's eyes and thus showing off how taut and sleek it was, well, that was just how it happened to work out.
"Look at them," Molly whispered, nodding over at Lestrade and Donovan, working as partners several rows away. "Getting into the whole fake married couple thing, aren't they? Looks like they're proper flirting over there!"
"As long as it keeps them from noticing that we're not faking it here," Sherlock mumbled in response as he ogled Molly's cleavage from his continued position half underneath her. When she glared down at him, he gestured smugly at the goat that had taken position on his mid-section, settling itself into position for what looked like a nice, long, nap, legs folded beneath it and head on his chest. "Sorry, can't move - and, oops! Now you can't either!" he continued brightly as another goat nimbly hopped up onto her raised derriere. He smirked up at her. "Guess we're stuck with each other, Molly Hooper!"
"Guess we are," she grumbled - but with a fond smile on her lips. "Guess we are."