John had retreated to the kitchen, using the excuse of being a good husband to get away from the crowd. Mary had chosen the warm yellow tones of the kitchen, arguing it would help mimic sunshine during long London winters. John just felt blinded by the glow. But then again, he'd spent a large part of this evening feeling blindsided.

John heard footsteps behind him as Victor entered the kitchen, laden with dinnerware. John accepted the plates and placed them in the sink with a nod and an abrupt thanks. He hoped Victor would take the hint, but the man lingered.

"It was very kind of you to invite me into your home on such short notice."

"Mary had invited Sherlock. He was free to bring whomever he liked." John knew he was being rude, and he hated himself for it. Victor had shown himself to be a gracious guest, which John should appreciate as a host. He'd also shown himself to be affectionate and comfortable with Sherlock, which John should appreciate for the rarity in his friend's life.

"May I help with the dishes?"

Leave it to Sherlock to find the perfect man. John sighed, his tension clear in the set of his shoulders. "Thank you. Of course. I'll wash, you dry."

"Sounds good." Victor leaned against the counter, waiting for some plates to arrive in the drying rack. "I'm glad to have a chance to meet you. I'd followed Sherlock's exploits in the media and on your blog, of course. You had some great adventures together."

John smiled reluctantly. "We have."

"Some of them were so fantastic I thought they had to be fake."

Oh, you have no idea. "Every word is true except the parts where I had to lie."

The two men shared polite laughter at John's joke.

"Anyway, you're a wonderful blogger. Will you be writing up any more cases?"

John heard the real question behind Victor's words. Are you still a big part of Sherlock's life? He wished he knew the answer. "There are a few old ones I should still get around to, and I'm hoping there will be more cases in the future."

Victor twisted the dish towel in his hands, turning more directly to John. "I'm going to be honest with you. From your blog entries, I always thought the two of you were together."

John never understood why the assertion of togetherness always cut so deeply. "Why would you think that?"

"Your affection was so obvious, and he even took the time to comment. That's practically a declaration of love for the Sherlock I remember."

Declaration of love, right. Certainly didn't send me any declarations while he pretended to be dead for two years. John's hands stilled over the sink. "We were never a couple. I'm not gay."

"I know that now." Victor continued drying the dishes. "I read you got married to a woman, so I pinged him over email and promised myself I'd look him up the next time I was in London."

"First contact since uni?"

"Oh, yeah. You know how intimidating he can be. I had the biggest crush on Sherlock at uni, all aloof and intense and utterly in a league of his own." Victor smiled at the recollection. "I asked him out a few times, but he rather made it clear he wasn't interested in relationships back then."

"Not surprised."

"I took hope from the fact that he rejected me more gently than the others."

John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I am flattered by your interest…

"If you've read the papers, you know his last relationship was with a woman."

"That chick Janine? It was all a lie."

John turned to Victor. "I saw them together."

"I'm sure you did. But Sherlock was stringing her along for a case…"

"He was." John agreed. He'd seen how far Sherlock was willing to go to solve a case. Get engaged. Jump off a building.

"… and she sold her fabrications to the media to at least get money out of the farce. None of those stories were true."

"Seemed pretty convincing to me." John could still see Janine: clothed only in Sherlock's shirt, perched on his lap, kissing him in the doorway of his home. A queasy feeling in his stomach, John closed his eyes against the memories.

Victor noticed his distress. He started to reach out to John, but drew back, seeming to realize the touch of a stranger would not be appreciated. "John, trust me, Sherlock never had sex with her. He said he could barely allow her to kiss him. Not his area, you know?"

Not my area, John remembered. But then there was the Woman and Janine and never, ever a man brought home to Baker Street.

John was embarrassed to have Victor witness his confusion. "I must admit, I suspected at first, but I did not know he was gay." John held up a hand. "Not that I have a problem with that. It's all fine with me."

Victor merely responded with a friendly smile. John observed him as he continued to work. He was meticulous while drying the china, gentle with the crystal stemware. He was obviously from a wealthy background, yet he did not appear incongruous in the bright homey kitchen, even in his impeccably tailored dark suit. Victor was tall, confident, intelligent, elegant, attractive… a perfect match for Sherlock. And John resented him for it.

"But he never brought home a man when we lived together." And he surely never looked at me. Not that I would have wanted him to. I'm not that way…

"That's interesting." Victor said. "Don't you wonder why?"

No, I really don't. John took a deep breath and said, "Look, Sherlock's my best friend, so please be careful with him. I know he's a big boy, and it isn't my place to say anything, but I don't want Sherlock to get hurt. Ever."

Victor chuckled under his breath and shook his head in disbelief. Staring shrewdly at John, who felt greatly exposed to his gaze, Victor said, "A bit late for that, don't you think?"