John sat staring at the now cold cup of tea in his hands. After the incident... well after he'd see..., fine fine fine after he'd come all over his hand he'd dived back down the corridor, quickly washed his hands in the kitchen sink and then thrown himself out of the flat and down towards the cafe round the corner to wait until his normal arrival time back from the surgery. He'd been sitting there for half an hour and so far hadn't even come close to processing what he'd seen. All he could do was keep replaying it in his head. He kept coming back, of all things, to Greg's hands on Sherlock's hips, strong tanned fingers digging into soft creamy white flesh.
One question he kept coming back to was whether it was it a one off? He didn't think it had happened before, Sherlock had no boundaries about things like this and he wouldn't have though Greg would make a move on him if he were sleeping with Sherlock. But was it going to happen again? Was it just sex or the start of a relationship? John couldn't imagine Sherlock being anybody's boyfriend but if he was capable of it with anyone it would have to be someone like Greg who, whatever Sherlock said, he respected and whose opinion he valued. He certainly couldn't imagine Sherlock succumb to mere bodily urges, there had to be something more to it. John felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. What if they did start seeing each other? What if he'd have to sit like a lemon on his chair while they curled up on the sofa and watched movies? John remembered who he was talking about and chuckled to himself, whatever happened he couldn't imagine Sherlock cuddling on the sofa. But even given Sherlock's less than conventional social styles having to watch them together as a couple would be excruciating. If he'd only been braver, if he's only come to his senses and seen what a great offer he'd been made. John sighed and looked at his watch. It was time to go home.