9. The dinner

'Hey, Sherlock. Did you move at all since I left?'

'Hm?'

'Never mind.' Sherlock turned and John seemed relaxed and happy. His eyebrows seemed a bit lighter after the whole afternoon in the sun. 'I'm sorry you missed such a beautiful Summer day. It was just perfect! Shame really, to spend the day indoors.'

'Well, John, I don't do parties, much less the kind that requires lying under the sun like a sea lion. I was perfectly fine looking into this file.'

'Any leads?'

'A few ideas, so far.'

'Good! I'm glad you've enjoyed yourself then. I'll go shower now and we can start getting ready for dinner.' Surprisingly, John started to undress, undoing the top two buttons and pulling his shirt from behind his neck, taking it off in one sweep over his head. This is something he would have never done at the flat. Standing only a few feet away, his skin smelled of sun, chlorine and sun cream. He irradiated warmth, being a strong presence in the room, a pulling force that made all converge to him. When John removed his trousers facing away from Sherlock, the shorts snapped slightly at the waist, enough to show just how much of a difference an afternoon under the sun did for John. He already had a tan line.

Heading towards the bathroom, John called out 'Oh, and I asked Brian, he said it was good of you to bring your tuxedo. His bride's family is quite formal and they insisted in this being a fancy event.' He closed the door to finish undressing. Sherlock heard the shower, then he caught a glimpse of himself on the mirror in front of him. He was surprised to see his own cheeks so flushed, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

Maybe it was seeing him shirtless at such close range earlier. Maybe it was the night he had a glimpse of John's sexual life. But today, in those small beach shorts, he seemed to exude sex. Maybe that's what women saw in him.

…..

One of the reasons for his choice in swimming costume had been pride. He didn't want his mates to think he had let himself go, all flabby and soft once out of the Army. In fact, he had doubled his exercising efforts in the past month. He wanted to look good in bathers, he admitted to himself, embarrassedly. But the main reason was, he bought those because of Marisa. She had helped him with shopping for clothes for the events of this weekend. She had insisted that he should get pieces that actually showed his physique. When it came to the swimming attire, he had gone straight for the longer and loose ones, but she had chosen these for him, saying he'd look great in them. Given the enthusiastic session that followed that shopping trip, he had been looking forward to four days on the beach with her. He was counting on the small shorts to keep her interested. His jaw had dropped once she had shown what she'd be wearing on the beach. He wasn't sure it was legal. But it certainly would've kept him interested.

John only realised he had undressed in front of Sherlock a bit late. Having spent the afternoon with his mates brought back that familiar freedom in respect to his body. When showers and sleeping quarters were always collective, any hang ups about one's own nudity quickly dissipated. That was partly why he had known being shirtless in front of his mates wouldn't be a problem. He usually felt shy in front of Sherlock, but this time he completely forgot himself. Once he became aware of what he had done, he didn't look back and headed straight to the bathroom as fast as he could without actually running.

…..

John came out of the bathroom wearing his stripped gown. 'Your turn, if you need to shower and shave.'

'Hm? Oh. Right.' Sherlock quickly grabbed what he needed and locked himself in the bathroom, keeping mostly his back towards John. He was still unsettled. John's shorts were hanging to dry in the extra towel rack inside the shower; he had washed them, apparently. He was showering and staring at them when John knocked on the door. 'Sherlock? I'll be down at the lobby. Some of the guys are in this hotel too and we'll just be catching up some more. All right?'

'Fine. I'll join you in twenty five minutes.'

Once he heard the bedroom door close, he took care of himself.

….

When Sherlock reached the lobby, the dreadful evening started. John's mates that were staying at the same hotel were some of the rowdier ones. They were teasing John when he got there, recalling his TC conquests. Introductions made, Sherlock made sure to start heading outside, to get into a cab and away from them. Unfortunately, two of the mates joined them, which made for an irritating ride. Sherlock retreated into his mind to ignore his discomfort. John had warned everybody at the pool party about how eccentric his flatmate was. So they accepted his behaviour and fully ignored it.

At the restaurant, there was a separate banquet room reserved for the wedding party. This was a smaller group than the party scheduled for tomorrow. This one was for the Army friends of the groom and their guests. Dinner would be served in half an hour, while the guests had drinks, hors d'oeuvres and a chance to mingle. Sherlock was surprised to see John in a decent new attire. New trousers, shirt, jacket, even shoes. Not just decent. He looked good. Quite attractive, actually. Handsome, even. They fitted him much better than his usual clothes. Having used sun cream he wasn't sunburned, but his nose and the top of his cheekbones were slightly red from the afternoon sun.

'Sherlock, come meet some of my friends. This is Gwen...'

Ah, the red headed one. I was right. He nodded, but became aware of her appraising look.

'...This is Max...'

The sun cream fellow. Who stared deeply into Sherlock's eyes.

'… This is Terry...'

The blond woman. That's why I didn't know who she was. I saw emails from a Terry and thought it was a man. Stupid, always something! She had a frank smile. He could immediately tell why John liked her.

Several other introductions later, Sherlock had given up remembering their names. Not that he couldn't, he just had no interest. Many showed interest in him, seeing that they followed John's blog and had many questions about their cases. He started to resent it, feeling like a circus attraction, so he started reading them out loud to their faces. John pulled him away, saying they should go find their seats.

'Sherlock, please!' he hissed.

'What? They were annoying.'

'Yes, I know. But please just let it be, all right? Stop reading people and blurting their secrets out loud. We'll be seating with Max, Terry and their guests, so please promise me you won't do that to them. Please? Sherlock?'

Sherlock huffed. This was really a bad idea... What possessed me to think I could stand this?

As it turned out, Max and Terry were quite pleasant, not rowdy like the others. They were smart and the conversation was intelligent enough to make the dinner tolerable. The bride and groom did their rounds around the tables, greeting all guests, shaking hands, hugging, et cetera. Brian seemed like a nice guy, if perhaps a bit dim, and his bride was pretty, perfect and shallow. John seemed to be very happy for them.

Terry was also a doctor, so John and her were pretty close, having shared so many experiences and worked many hours together. She was a bit of a tomboy, her blond hair was tied back in a low ponytail, the little bit of make-up she wore emphasised her hazel eyes. She had brought her sister as her guest and one could tell the family resemblance. The sister's name was Jeanie and she was very pretty, with strawberry blond hair and similar hazel eyes. She was a chemist and worked at a research centre. Sherlock took the opportunity to ask her about her suppliers. He had been having trouble finding some of his more unusual material. John was seated next to her so they talked animatedly, as she had heard many stories about him through her sister. Terry told many fun stories about John, which pleased Sherlock. He enjoyed hearing about John's life before they had met. He wished he had known him then and these stories gave him a taste of it. Jeannie had a similar personality to her sister, always joking and laughing. Predictably, John flirted with Jeanie and she reciprocated. Sherlock noticed some of the guys were smirking in John's direction, making comments in hushed voices.

Interestingly enough, Max was a sniper. Upon close inspection, one could see that under the polite smile, there was steel. A coiled violence, ready to be unleashed. John was somewhat like that, in a more tamed degree. And just like John, Max too, could remain inscrutable. Sherlock could tell his background, that he was single and lived solely for the Army at the moment, but nothing more interesting. Max looked as solid as a brick wall, despite being quite svelte. The fact that he was a sniper fascinated Sherlock. He asked more questions than Max was comfortable or allowed to discuss, but he was genial enough and charming when he couldn't or didn't want to answer. He rarely smiled, and usually sported a frown. His lips in repose curled up at the ends, and his blue eyes were big, hooded and slanted down, giving him an air of sleepiness. Occasionally Terry's stories would make him laugh and the smile was wide, the right side pulling higher than the left, lighting up his face, lifting the cloud that hung over it.

His guest was a pretty brunette named Melanie. She had relatives in town, so she was visiting with them, instead of staying with Max. Clearly she was not Max's girlfriend, but a close friend, judging by the intimacy with which they treated each other. She was an archeologist, which also contributed to an interesting conversation. John loved archeology and told her it had been one of his passions as a boy, almost his career choice. Sherlock hadn't known that. Interesting!

'Let me guess, Indiana Jones?' Melanie laughed and the whole table joined her. Only Sherlock remained puzzled.

Despite all the teasing, Terry and John seemed to be just that, good friends. He treated her almost as if she were his little sister. Then Sherlock remembered Gwen. Casting a discrete look, he noticed that now and then she would cast a glance towards John. No wonder all the others were teasing John about her. She does fancy him. John caught him looking at Gwen and frowned, surprised.

Funny how all the couples in this table are not couples at all, Sherlock realised.

Once the dinner was over, the others started to round their buddies to go to a pub. To Sherlock's relief, John declined, saying he was tired after being the whole day in the sun.

'TC, civilian life made you soft. Since when a bit of sun makes you tired?'

'Yeah, you were in the desert for three tours, for Christ's sake!'

'Oh, come on, TC!'

Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera. Mercifully, Terry grabbed John's arm and announced he had previously agreed to go have coffee with her and her sister at their hotel, which won a collective 'Oooooh!' from the guys. Gwen looked disappointed.

After they were left alone, John thanked her. 'I mean, I love these guys but they can be a bit too much.'

'I know!' she said. 'But seriously, would all of you like to go for a coffee? There's a charming little cafe' just across the street from our hotel.'

Sherlock was still a bit curious about the sniper, so he agreed. He felt a little better with the smaller group. They didn't keep them too long. The sisters were also tired from their trip, as they had come from much farther. An hour later they said their goodbyes and parted. Sherlock and John's hotel was within walking distance from the cafe' so they strolled lazily back. Max and Melanie took a cab. His hotel was only a bit further down the beach, but he wanted to drop her off at her relatives first. He knew them and wanted to say hello.