Dinner for four, or more?

Note: no beta for this one, as it is still a gift for my dear beta Salllzy! Chapter one uploaded wrong, so if you have just tuned in, no worries. If you see this to read the second chapter as you have done the first. Please go back to one.

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Upon entering the lavish restaurant that Mycroft had chosen, John was happy that he had followed Sherlock's advice – now that had been a kicker to have the consulting detective advise him on clothing – and he had accepted the dress shirt that Sherlock had handed him in his size with a new jacket to boot. This one had no patches or anything as he usually wore. In the beginning of their weird friendship he would have refused such gifts, but the Holmeses were rich enough on their own to afford a gift like this for him.

It said enough that the younger Holmes didn't need to work, to stay alive for the bare necessities. Although John usually handed the money parts from 'their business'. Just to be safe. With Harry's money in the mix next to his income from the practise; he hadn't been strapped for cash, and that was a welcome feeling.

It was a posh restaurant, and he kind of felt out of place. John could adapt easily, that was not what worried him. He also knew that Harry and Mycroft could easily afford such restaurants, but there had been times during his education when he had been surrounded by snobs from wealthy families. In those days it was a sport to show how rich you were and all the things you owned and could do. He hadn't been able to do that.

John came from a middle-class family where his father worked hard to give his son and daughter the best education possible and his mother worked on the side doing laundry for people in the area to earn a few penny's while she made a real home for them. They had never lacked for anything, but neither had he had the extreme luxury to which the Holmeses were accustomed.

Meeting Harry in his bespoke suits - as gorgeous as he was in those -, John had initially feared he was dating out of his league. It had been more than a relief to find out that Harry preferred to wear John's clothing if he could. Given the choice, Harry himself would have preferred to wear clothes that were in a worse state of repair than the whole of John's wardrobe, but John had tried to steer his partner away from those choices. He did enjoy his partner in a good suit. Call it his secret fancy, but it tickled him in a good way.

Harry himself liked to laugh it off, but he was quick to explain that he had only found out later in life that he had inherited money from his parents. The man was glad that his greedy aunt and uncle had never known about it, and that was probably the most he ever said about it. The rest John had guessed from offhanded remarks here and there. Mostly Hermione would drop some lines here and there, while she berated Harry for one thing or another. Even John would take a breather from those dressing downs.

Harry had inherited the titles he got nowadays, and even more money, land and houses when his godfather died. Also a topic they barely spoke about, which John understood. He wouldn't be comfortable talking about something like that if he was handed some mighty real-estate right now.

The raven-haired man had promised to take him to these houses eventually, but those outings always seemed to fail one way or another. Having once gone through the accounts looking for an expense at one time and seen the addresses of the estates listed, proof was not what John needed. It was an indication of Harry's preference for a simple life. At first he had not wanted Harry to contribute to the apartment he still shared with Sherlock, but the man had quickly put that aside.

There were few moments in their relationship when Harry's smile disappeared from his face, but this instance had been one of them. Green eyes had looked him straight in the eye, and while John had muttered something about expenses and life, Harry shook his head.

"Listen to me very carefully, John, because I hate to talk about money, especially with someone that I love as much as I love you," he said.

To prove his point, he had briefly kissed him on the lips. John adored it when Harry did that. It was something sweet and soft, unnecessary but very welcome at those moments.

"I make more than enough money in a few days to keep us afloat with our comparatively easy lifestyle for a whole year. I wouldn't even mind if you cut back on your work, because I know you're almost burnt out again, but I'll never force you to do anything or not to do anything. Just let me take care of things, just like you take care of that tired head of mine every day."

Another kiss, but this time on the top of his nose.

"You don't know how much I need you in my life, and how much I rely on you, so I'd hate for you to break down over such trivialities as money or expenses that I pay."

John could only agree when it was brought in such a way. Harry had more trauma in his left little finger than Sherlock and John combined, and a part of their relationship had revolved around that. Harry felt guilty about this, but John had never seen it that way. It was obvious to him that if you cared about someone, or were in love with someone, you took care of their psyche.

So he had dropped the argument. Sometimes one would give more than the other, and they never compared notes on that. You should only give as much as you could.

"Ah, Harry," Mycroft now stood next to the table, and they grasped hands in a familiar fashion before the older Holmes turned his attention to John. A small glance over his whole body, and a nod after meant that he approved or perhaps he was happy with whatever he had deduced. The Holmes's could be like that.

"Dr. Watson, John, I'm glad you were able to join us on such a short notice. With Eggsy's job –" John always loved how Mycroft still seemed to pause, probably trying to not show the cringe in his facial expression just a bit before using his companions nickname – "it's often not easy to plan such an ordeal as this. He will be here shortly, if I believe his last text."

"Don't worry, Mycroft," Harry laughed, "John and I are more than familiar with a crazy schedule. We're patient if we need to."

John and Harry took their seats, and within a matter of seconds a waiter was at their table to serve them. John felt Harry's hand land reassuringly on his left thigh, and he looked aside with a slight smile on his face. It didn't take long before there were drinks in front of them, and the conversation seemed to flow without any trouble. Not something John had expected of Mycroft, but the man seemed more relaxed than John thought possible in conversation with Harry, and John didn't mind to just relax into the atmosphere.

It wasn't long before Mycroft looked up, and a rare, soft smile graced his features as a striking younger man came walking towards them with a certain haste. Eggsy was absolutely nothing that John had expected that would turn up. Eggsy, as the nickname failed to suggest, was a hunk of muscle tucked into an expensive suit, with a big, jovial smile on his face, dark blonde hair kept neatly in place by hair products, just a few hairs falling through to give him the proper 'model' look.

If anyone had asked the good doctor beforehand if he knew what Mycroft would arrive with, it would not have been this Herculean figure, which would have dwarfed James Bond - played by Daniel Craig himself. Eggsy was not necessarily tall, but he was wide and imposing. John was almost afraid he had stared at Eggsy too long, hoping Harry would forgive him, but he now understood the comments Mycroft had once made to Harry when Eggsy had been on a seduction mission. He also understood why this particular agent would be assigned to those missions.

There was a sparkle visible in the man's blue-green eyes, as he looked towards Mycroft. John knew that look, it was the same one that he gave Harry, and he had been on the receiving end of those as well. It was a certain adoration. A knowing that only that special partner in front of you could accept you the way you were, and you suddenly became a person of greed. Like you would never share that other person with anybody.

"Hello darling," Eggsy greeted his partner first and got away with a cheeky kiss on the lips, after the turned around and smiled at them. "Hel'lo, I'm Gary Unwin, but please just call me Eggsy."

"John Watson," John offered his hand first, as he knew Harry would always let him take point in new conversations. Both ex-soldiers shook hands with a firm gesture to it, and deemed each other worthy. The calluses on Eggsy's hands were still visible to the eye, and John realised why Sherlock wasn't here. He would have had a field day with someone like Eggsy. Because the man showed everything and nothing. All at once. Just like his Harry did.

"Ah, the doctor, it's an honour!" Eggsy commented friendly without any judgement.

"Harry Black," Harry now offered, but Eggsy seemed to halt just a second before he took the delegate's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. I should thank you for your service." The name was out of him before he knew it.

And then the table went silent, as Eggsy realised his mistake, but Harry only smiled.

"I do believe that I owe you just as much."

"Yea', well. Terrorists are a crazy bunch." The youngest man in the group shrugged as an offered apology that Harry seemed to accept within seconds. "Innit." His accent changed within seconds, the posh English voice gone with the wind.

"Something like that, yes." Harry smiled, but one look towards Mycroft made that man stay silent.

Few words were spoken, but Mycroft glanced over at John, and noticed that the doctor had noticed Eggsy's slip up. Harry just shrugged, and bend over towards John's ear as he whispered: "the other name I told you about. You remember, right?" John nodded, as he flushed over Harry's soft breath close to a sensitive spot at his neck.

Not in a restaurant John, not here, the man chided himself in his thoughts, as he tried to concentrate on that what Mycroft was explaining to Eggsy, while the man just sat down like he owned the restaurant as he called – albeit very gentlemanly – the waiter over. He ordered a drink for himself and another for Mycroft without batting an eye, as he asked for the menu of the day for all of them. A gentleman indeed.

"Ya' should have seen her face, Harry!" Eggsy and Harry had taken to each other like a duck to water, and were swapping war stories apparently, as Mycroft listened with a soft smile on his face, and John just went along for the ride. He was a quiet man, who didn't need all the fuss if it wasn't there.

"I thought Anthea hated me, but it seemed she's befriended Rox. I believe that's even more scary." Eggsy snickered, and Harry shook his head.

"We should introduce them to Hermione, then you'll have a field day I promise."

"That's asking for trouble," John spoke up, and he grinned. "Hermione is like a hurricane, and I fear that even the best spies would be bested by her."

"Do you know if Anthea dates men or women?" Eggsy asked Mycroft with that wide, infectious smile. "Maybe we can set her up. Not with Rox, she only dates women for missions, but someone else?"

"As Anthea has never longed for those answers from me, I never asked her." Mycroft added to the conversation, but as he did, he noticed the sudden off expression on his partner's face who was staring at something that had caught his eye.

"Everything alright, my love?"

"Nah, not really." Eggsy looked towards his table companions. "Harry got any guns on ya? Mycroft?" Eggsy grabbed his umbrella with a tight grip as he pulled his glasses tightly on his nose. "We've got bogey's incoming."

"You have been hanging out with that cowboy too much," a voice behind him spoke up, and an elegant lady in the same fresh pressed suit stood next to him. "I believe Anthea is aromantic, to answer your question."

"Ah, hé Rox." Eggsy smiled at her with a wide one that showed all his teeth, like he expected her to show up unannounced like that. "These are John and Harry, John works with Sherlock, Mycroft's younger brother. He's the doctor. Harry is his husband. He's the MI7 bloke I told you about, right?"

Nobody commented on the fact that John and Harry weren't married, which gave John a giddy feeling altogether. He liked the idea that Harry could be his husband one day.

"I know. It is my pleasure, gentlemen." She handed Harry a package, who only briefly glanced at it, before he trusted it towards John with a certain indifference.

"I've got my own, John is a better shot than me anyways." The compliment didn't go unnoticed by the doctor, as he took the package from his 'husband'. John found a nice gunmetal version of a Beretta 92 FS with a wooden grip that the soldier in him appreciated, and he smiled softly. Two preloaded magazines were lying in the box. Another box with enough bullets for two magazines next to it.

He had been a damn good shot in the military, and he was glad to be recognised for it, so he went through all the safety briefings in his head, before cocking the gun and getting into his fighting mode. The doctor was used to it now, with people like Sherlock, Harry, and Mycroft around. Maybe he wanted to stay used to it; who knew.

A hand grenade flew through the air, which Eggsy easily deflected with his umbrella, prompting Rox - who John suspected was Agent Lancelot from the stories he had heard at the dinner table - to unfold her own umbrella to stop the first storm of bullets. It was an ingenious piece of engineering that he wouldn't mind checking out if possible. Lancelot adopted an attitude that John recognised from the army marksmen, while Eggsy stepped forward like a true breacher. In fancy dress. John felt a slight panic rise in him until Harry pushed up behind him and whispered, "The suits are bulletproof."

John was telling the truth when he said that at that moment he had a look in his eye like the man was stupid. "But yours isn't."

"I have other methods. Eggsy and I know each other, as you might have noticed, from work. Only I know him under a different name and vice versa. I know a bit about how they work."

John could only nod.

"Dr. Watson, I would feel more calm if you could stand by my side. You are better at keeping enemies at bay, while I will defend our close flank." Mycroft had the ability to make anything sound boring, and John was grateful for that. He might be ex-army, but that didn't mean that he wasn't shook by the gunshots that Lancelot and Eggsy were dealing with.

Then he realised that Harry wasn't there anymore, but he did hear his other half shout something angrily. Something like a laser seemed to come their way, and before both men knew it, there was an impenetrable wall before them that dissolved all incoming fire.

Then it all went quiet.

John swore that time seemed to freeze on them even though that was impossible, and the veteran was barely able to retell what happened at that very moment when Sherlock asked him afterwards. He didn't have an eidetic memory or a memory palace like the others did.

All he saw, was his handsome husband who fought with a vigour that he hadn't seen before. He knew Harry had quite the physique or fierceness in him that he had seen before when the younger man had protected him with only his word. There was a fire in the even paler face that John loved more than anything. There were flashes of light and it looked as if a laser show were being performed.

It was ultimate chaos, with a laser show, while the area surrounding him and Mycroft seemed to be bathed in pure silence. John literally heard nothing. It was so quiet you couldn't even hear the floor creaking or the wind blowing. It was that Mycroft remained calm, otherwise John would have felt the panic in his body earlier. Now it was the remnants of adrenaline that had bounced around his body like unwanted guests.

Shots were fired, deflected, shouted over, people cursed at each other, played games with each other, sneered at each other. It was the pure chaos of battle. Then he had a moment's fear that Harry had been hit by a bullet before he felt him disassociate. Only when he felt Harry's lips on his own did John realise the state of panic he was in. And that the battle had ended.

So much for dessert, he had been looking forward to dessert. Maybe with tea later on.