John followed Sherlock into the basement game room, adjusting his deep red tie self-consciously. "D'you think this is nice enough? Why did your bloody brother invite us to his damned gentleman's club anyway?"
Sherlock smiled appraisingly. He'd finally managed to convince John to buy a properly tailored suit, and it was much more flattering to his broad shoulders and surprisingly trim waist than that horrid brown thing he'd owned up until that point. It was an incredibly deep charcoal grey that managed to bring out John's eyes, and the tie matched Sherlock's new shirt perfectly.
"John, you look absolutely delectable in that outfit. I am sorely tempted to throw you over the table and fuck you senseless. I'm even debating getting one of the cues involved in an entirely inappropriate way." John flushed, the combination of embarrassment and arousal tinting his cheeks nearly to match the tie his lover had wound between his fingers. Sherlock leaned over, causing John to lean back against the edge of the table. Their lips met in a furious kiss and Sherlock's hands were about to creep down into John's finely cut trousers when they heard some pointedly heavy footfalls on the stairs.
"John, Sherlock... Dare I ask what you're getting up to down here?"
"Honestly, Mycroft. What an asinine question. We're quite obviously playing billiards."