"Hello, you must be Sherlock, I'm David, nice to meet you."
Sherlock rarely swore, even in his own internal monologue. In general he considered swearing to be a sign of a poor vocabulary, but oh dear fucking God. He had miscalculated. Grossly miscalculated. David was, well, christ-on-a-bike entirely, irrevocably, undeniably gorgeous. And looking at him with a slightly confused expression.
"Oh yes, of course. Come inside."
Sherlock let him walk up the stairs to the flat first. That was a mistake. By the time they reached the top he was nearly drooling. Sherlock had always understood the impact of a well cut suit but those jeans, though they weren't that tight, hung on David's slim hips and hugged his arse beautifully.
"David!"
"Hi you, good day?"
"Not bad, I see you met Sherlock."
"Yes, I did..."
David looked at Sherlock and smiled. Oh that was pretty.
"Erm, a drink perhaps?"
"Oh lovely, what do you have?"
John laughed "The choice is normally tea, coffee and embalming fluid"
"Glad I bought this then" smiled David, handing over a bottle of red wine to John. Sherlock swiftly intercepted it.
"Don't worry, I'll open it- you two sit down."
Sherlock scurried into the kitchen and pulled out his mobile. Normally he preferred to text but time was of the essence, he rang Greg on his mobile. Damn, straight to voicemail, he must already be on the underground. "It's Sherlock. I, erm, I made a mistake, John's here, and David's with him. Don't come round, I'll text you later."
Sherlock fumbled around the drawers for a corkscrew, he couldn't find one anywhere. This was just another example of why John should have agreed to his alphabetisation plan. After a few moments John came in.
"You have absolutely no idea where the corkscrew is do you."
"As I have suggested we could move to a much more efficient filing..."
"Don't want to hear it. I'll sort it out you can go in and speak to David."
The trepidation must have shown on his face
"What's the matter? I thought you wanted to meet him. He won't bite."
Sherlock shook himself. He was worrying unnecessarily. David may be pretty but he surely wouldn't be as interesting or intelligent as Greg- on of the few people at Scotland Yard who was actually worth speaking to. And now he had an opportunity go and confirm that.
"So, David, what do you do when you're not babysitting?"
David smiled a slightly lopsided smile but gave no other response to the jibe.
"Oh, bit of this bit of that. I like art, I went to the Turner exhibition at the Tate last weekend."
"I didn't think that was open yet."
"It is to members, it was the preview weekend."
Oh. well, everyone has one hobby, it doesn't make them interesting.
"Were you planning to see it too then? Do you like Turner?"
"Who doesn't like Turner?"
"I don't know, some people find it a bit, well, oppressive, belittling. I suppose you like the drama though..."
David's eye's were twinkling.
"Of course, not the drama so much but the intensity..."
When John came in a few minutes later with an opened bottle of wine and some glasses he'd in the end had to borrow from Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock was leaning forward in his chair gesturing wildly.
"But of course you can't compare them I don't know how..."
"Sherlock, Sherlock, you're preaching to the choir, the big galleries do like trying to theme everything..."
John smiled. Halle-fucking-lujah. He could leave David in a room with Sherlock for several minutes without anyone ending up in tears or storming off never to be seen again. Something that he'd never achieved with any of his girlfriends.
The doorbell rang. Sherlock's head pinged round to it with a look that John could only describe as trepidation. John placed the glasses on the table. "I'll get it"
"No, no, don't worry let me."
"Sherlock, don't worry, I'm halfway there already."
John was. As soon as he'd seen that look on Sherlock's face he'd been determined to get to the door first. He pulled it open. Greg was standing there in fitted trousers and a soft blue shirt, unbuttoned at least one button further than it normally was and clutching a bottle of wine. The look on his face slipped from frankly lascivious to shocked as he realised it was John at the door.
"Oh, John, I... sorry, Sherlock invited me."
John sighed. Sherlock showing an interest in human relationships? How had he fallen for that one. "Of course he did, come on in." He started walking through the kitchen with Greg in tow. He was almost glad at the blinding rage he was feeling towards Sherlock right now, as it was dampening the shrill note of panic at the thought of having to maintain a calm front with Greg and David in the same room. The walked into the living room.
"Greg, you remember David don't you?"
Greg's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Oh, er... yes, of course, how are you doing?"
"Not too bad at all, not a professional visit I hope?"
"Oh, erm, no, I came to see Sherlock."
David caught John's eye and smiled. John almost sighed in relief. David understood. He understood and he found it amusing. Oh thank God. How had he managed to find someone that smart and that patient?
"Oh I'm terribly sorry, there must have been some mistake. We wouldn't want to spoil your night in with your boyfriend. Here, have the wine- a gift. John and I will head out."
John felt that warm feeling in his stomach again. Masterfully played...
"Boyfriend? Sherlock's not my boyfriend, Sherlock- what have you been saying?"
John had the oddest sensation of feeling his own jaw hanging open. He was sure he should do something about it, but for the life of him he couldn't think what.
"Nothing! I didn't say anything. John just assumed!"
Oh he had done hadn't he? All Sherlock had said was...
"And you didn't correct him?"
"It didn't seem important!"
"Enough!"
John was surprised at himself. "Greg, David, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted. D'you mind if I speak to Sherlock alone for a moment please?"
"I don't want to."
"You don't have a choice Sherlock. Kitchen. Now."