New chapter :D

This basically wrote itself ... I loved imagining Sherlock's family reacting to an open display of affection.
Tell me what you think about it ;D

I hope you'll like the chapter.

„Dinner" was more like a banquet.
There was a long table in the middle of the room with Mrs. Holmes – Mummy – at the head of it. The other seats were taken by members of the Holmes family, John assumed.
They all shared some characteristics and you could see they were somehow related.

"Ah, Sherlock, John, finally. I was about to send Mycroft to fetch you."

Sherlock glared and John smiled nervously, thinking about what had caused their delay.

There were two chairs vacant next to Mummy's right side. Sherlock quickly took the one farther away and so John had to sit down next to Mummy – and across from Mycroft.

To his surprise, Sherlock openly took his hand on the table as soon as he had sat down, presenting it for everyone to see. It took him a few moments to remember their scheme.
Sherlock's hand was warm against his and he felt his heartbeat speeding up.
Oh please, please don't let Sherlock notice …

He quickly turned his gaze away from him in case his pupils had dilated, trying to act as if this was an usual occurrence - and met Mycroft's sceptical one. He had raised an eyebrow and was now folding his hands in front of him as if he was saying 'Well, this is interesting.'

John wasn't sure what Mycroft could read in his face and, not wanting to give away the deception, turned his head further to Mummy. She was beaming at them.

Then a girl down the table suddenly broke the silence that had followed on Sherlock's open display, "So Sherly's got himself a boyfriend. I'd never guessed that to happen."
The whole table stared at her.

"What?" She said. "Don't tell me you would have. We all know him."
She turned to John. "You're that John Watson guy, aren't you? The one with the blog. We all read it, it's hilarious.
But I really don't get how you can stand being around him all the time. Not even we can and we are his family."

John gaped at her, unable to answer. Here was this girl he didn't even know the name of asking him about his personal life. Before he could collect himself and say anything, she went on.

"I guess love really is blind," she smirked.

"Amice!" Mummy reprimanded her. So that's how she was called.
"I'm sorry, John, Amice is still quite young and at that age Holmes children don't seem to be able to hold back. Though you must be used to that, Sherlock never got over that stage."

"Mummy!"

John could feel the whole table repressing laughter.

One of the Holmes men spoke up. "So, John – It's alright to call you John, isn't it? You're part of the family now, after all. – How did you and Sherlock met? He isn't that sociable after all."

"Well," John began. At least this was something that he didn't have to make up. "It happened through a mutual friend. I had just come back to London from the army –"

"Oh, you were in the army?"

"Yes, as a doctor. But I got shot and was sent home. I was about to leave because I couldn't afford staying in London anymore when I met that mutual friend I mentioned. It was coincidence, really. He suggested finding a flat share and then he introduced me to Sherlock."

"And he didn't ... deduce you, like he always does?"

John chuckled. "Oh yes, he did. But I found it rather amazing, to be honest. Especially after he had explained how he did it."

"And that was enough to convince you to share a flat with him?"

"Oh no, I decided that after we chased a cab through half of – Wait a minute, didn't Amice just say you all read my blog? Shouldn't you know all that already?"

Sherlock squeezed his hand. Seemed he had done something right.

"You caught me. I was trying to get you to spill something about how Sherlock is when he's dating." The man grinned. "I see what you like about him, Sherlock. He isn't as ordinary as he looks."

Sherlock glared at him and the man made a soothing gesture. "Calm down, Sherlock. I won't get near him. He's completely yours."

John's heart fluttered. 'Yours'. Sherlock's. Somehow this possessiveness felt good.
He had never been into possessive relationships, but with Sherlock he could imagine himself liking it.
Damn John, remember this isn't real. This is an act for Sherlock's mother. (And apparently the rest of the family.)

Dinner came and Sherlock had to let go of John's hand which felt strangely cold now, as if being wrapped up in Sherlock's was its preferred state now.
It was strange seeing Sherlock eating without complaint.

The food was delicious and it was a nice break from the interrogation before.
Between the courses though, the questioning went on.
"Do you have a practice, John?" (No.)
"How is it to always be running after Sherlock?" (Quite exhausting, but I like it.)
"Tell me, John, is Sherlock still as chaotic as he was when he was younger? It must be hellish to share a flat with him." (I'm never bored.)

Or the more intimate ones, which made John blush and stutter for an answer (which thankfully just made them think he was just shy to be open about their relationship):
"When did you fall in love?" (No particular time, came slowly.)
"Where did you go on your first date?" (To a nice Italian restaurant, it's called Angelo's and it's our favourite one.)
"Who made the first step?" (I did. It was an accident, really, but it all ended well.)
John had especially trouble answering the last question, but the thought of their first kiss (the one in the cab) crossed his mind and that had saved him.

Sherlock stayed silent the whole time, taking John's hand in own when he wasn't eating.
It seemed he was talking with his body.
He kept looking at John, watching him and John could see the looks the other Holmeses gave them, a mixture of astonishment, happiness - and also, he noted surprisedly, jealousy.

Sometimes John would turn around to look back into Sherlock's eyes and under the (fake) loving gaze John could see the mirth. Sherlock's eyes were practically gleaming.

All in all the evening went much better than John had expected. The nervousness vanished and he felt good in his role as Sherlock's boyfriend.
The family (he still couldn't remember all the names) seemed to accept them and even cheer for them. It almost made him feel bad for misleading them.

When the dessert came, it became difficult for John.
From the corner of his eye he could see Sherlock eating in an almost pornographic manner.
The man might not want to eat, but when he did he loved sweets the most. It was obviously something he shared with his big brother, although he'd never admit it.

And now Sherlock was licking his spoon to get every crumb of the dessert and John felt his cheeks heating up.
Why did he have to remember now where Sherlock's tongue had been before? What it had done?

John, stop thinking about it. Think about something else.
Harry being drunk. Harry being drunk and vomiting.
Mycroft. Mycroft in underwear. Mycroft in underwear dancing around his umbrella.
Corpses.
Damn, it doesn't help!

He looked away, trying to get Sherlock out of his field of view, and met the gazes of the whole table.
They were smirking and John knew they were amused by the scene playing out in front of them.
The man from earlier (his name was Cuthbert) winked at him.

Then John could hear a moan from behind him. Oh my God.

Mummy grinned at his facial expression which must be something between arousal, embarrassment and panic.

Okay, time for a strategic withdrawal.

John turned around to Sherlock who had just put away his spoon (after that obscene moan).
He leaned closer to whisper in his ear, so loud that everybody could hear it, "That was really unfair, darling. I think you have to take responsibility for your actions."
Sherlock answered with a lustful look and got up, seemingly eager to follow his lover's demands.

"I'm sorry, but John and I still have some ... things to do. We'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight." He took John's hand, pulling him up and after him.

A cough.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John had to hide a smirk.
Then Sherlock let go of John's hand and went back to the table to give his mother a quick peck on the cheek. Before he could retreat though, she held him back and whispered (loud enough that even John who was standing at the door could hear it), "Enjoy yourself, dear."

Repressed chuckles. Sherlock blushed slightly (he's really a great actor, John thought) and went as fast as possible back to John, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room.
When the door behind them had closed, they could hear the laughter from inside.