John opened the flat door to see Sherlock laid out on the sofa, one hand thrown behind his head and the other trailing on the floor. John wasn't sure what he would have thought if he hadn't seen with his own eyes earlier but right now it looked obvious what he and Geg had been doing. Sherlock was stretching and gently wriggling like a cat in a sunbeam, looking more relaxed that John had ever seen him and almost as pleased with himself as he did when solving a particularly brilliant murder.

John dropped his keys down on the kitchen table.

"Good day then?"

"Oh yes, after you left Lestrade and I had sex. For hours. He's very good."

Even after living with him for months now Sherlock could still shock John into silence with his disregard for any level of basic politeness. John goldfished in silence for a few long seconds, grasping the enormity of Sherlock's social malfunctioning, before he could speak again.

"Sherlock I really don't need to know."

"But I thought you'd be interested? After last night..."

John held his hand to stop him.

"No Sherlock, whatever you think happened didn't happen."

Sherlock looked perplexed. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it. John was about to call him on it but then realised that if even Sherlock didn't think what he was about to say was appropriate he really didn't want to hear it. John went back into the kitchen and started mechanically making tea. Well, at least he wasn't going to have to lie and pretend he didn't know they'd had sex. That was good right? John flipped the kettle on and reached up to grab the teabags. Also, the good thing about a lack of social niceties, he remembered, was that it cut both ways.

After a few minutes he walked back into the living room to find Sherlock hadn't moved. Still basking in the residual hormones flowing around his body. John put the tea by Sherlock's trailing hand and sat down in his seat. He squirmed in his chair for a few minutes trying to get comfortable, then picked up the oncology magazine he'd been reading from the floor and idly paged through it. He picked up his tea (just the right temperature now) and sipped it slowly watching Sherlock. Then grabbed his laptop and started booting it up, before abandoning it on the floor.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Whatever it is you're not saying."

"What do you mean whatever..."

"Oh for God's sake John, you've been on the verge of saying something for the last fifteen minutes. I can hear it, it's distracting. What is it?"

"It's nothing."

Sherlock gave a dramatic sigh

"Fine, it's just, I was wondering... do you think you and Greg... erm..."

"Erm what John?"

"I just mean, was it just a one night thing?"

"It was in the afternoon"

"I know I know, I don't mean that, I mean... was it just, you know, as friends, for stress relief?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow "I'm friends with you John and I don't sleep with you"

"I just mean do you think you're going to be seeing him again?"

"I see him all the time at crime scenes..."

"You're being deliberately obtuse!"

"No I'm not! Just ask what you want to ask!"

John groaned "Fine, Sherlock, do you think you will be having sex with Greg again, in the future."

Sherlock grinned "Oh I do think so..."

He tipped his head back onto the sofa cushion and closed his eyes. "Regularly, I hope."

Well, that was it then. John looked at Sherlock sprawled out on the sofa. No matter the revelations of the past two days he wasn't attracted to Sherlock (how could anyone that arrogant be attractive...) but he knew that Sherlock was good looking. Gorgeous even. The pale skin and the dark hair, his tall, slim body. John looked down at his slightly pudgy waist despairingly then back up to Sherlock's razor sharp cheekbones and rich pink lips. If Greg had Sherlock Holmes on a plate what possible interest could he have in ordinary looking little John Watson. Even if he hadn't already turned him down flat. He'd just have to forget about it.

"John?"

"What?"

"You're staring..."

"Sorry! Sorry, I was thinking about something else"

"About Greg?"

"What? No, why would I be?"

Sherlock paused. Even he, with his limited knowledge and, to be frank, interest, in social conventions agreed with Greg that the discussion they had had about Greg and John's contretemps last night would be seen as "a bit not good" by the very private John. But John was making it so hard. He could almost feel John imagining Greg's hands all over him, his flesh tickled under the scrutiny. But what could he say? John had denied that anything had happened last night. Perhaps the direct approach would work.

"I could tell you what he did if you like?"

"Jesus, Sherlock, no thank you."

Right, the direct approach clearly not yielding positive results. Perhaps he could appeal to John's desire to make other's happy.

"But John I want to tell you."

"Don't care, way more information than I need. Go on Loose Women or something"

Sherlock was concerned he was getting out of his conversational depth here. He was pretty sure there was at least one cultural reference in there he'd missed, which could be vital, and John was getting more and more annoyed. His time with Greg this afternoon had certainly been enlightening but he still didn't understand why sex made everyone so, well, angry. John was annoyed with Greg for trying to sleep with him (even though John wanted to), Greg was annoyed that John didn't want to sleep with him (even though Sherlock had explained it wasn't true), they were both annoyed at Sherlock for just talking about it. Why was something so fun so complicated? Whatever the cause, he didn't want to upset John. He tried to steer back to safer ground.

"Well the offers always there..."

"That's it, I'm going to my room."

Sherlock looked after John as the door slam and thumping steps shook the house. Clearly he needed to study the phenomenon further.

Text SH to GL: Further data req'd. Suggest Thursday 8pm? Have been conducting desk based research and would like to confirm with practical experiment.

Text GL to SH: Is that you talking dirty? Because it sort of works for you.

Text SH to GL: Irrelevant. Meet at yours. I have sourced supplies.

Text: GL To SH: Dear God Sherlock, what you do to me. Yes, Thursday at 8, see you then.