Chapter Text
It wasn’t long after the whirlwind of meeting Sherlock and moving into Baker Street that John became swept away by Sherlock. There was a connection between them that neither man had experience with, as if they were meant to be here, in this moment of time, together. Sherlock wasn’t a spiritual person, at all, the concept of fate and destiny seemed arbitrary and unlikely. But John was different than the others. He couldn’t figure out how; he was ordinary just like anyone else.
Months after meeting this ‘madman,’ he found himself with a lapful of consulting detective more often than not. It had been gradual changes. A hand on the shoulder shifted to a reassuring grip to the back of the neck. Space between them diminished until there wasn’t space between them and embraces were shared with little thought. Embraces became long hugs that ended in forehead kisses. At some point, this became cuddling while fingers traced patterns along clothed skin.
When they shared their first, soft, slow kiss, they decided it was time to talk and establish boundaries.
“So, kissing is okay,” John verified. They were sprawled out in what used to be Sherlock’s bed but had become ‘their’ bed. Sherlock hummed with a slight nod against John’s right shoulder. He felt John’s fingers caress his cheek and tilted his face upward for another kiss.
“Here?” John murmured against his lips. Sherlock smiled and nodded as best he could. “Annnd here?” John pressed a kiss to his forehead. Another nod. “And here?” John dropped down to his cheek then his jawline without waiting for an answer. “Here?” His voice lowered even further and Sherlock could feel hot breath against his neck. Somewhat chapped lips pressed against a spot just under his jawline while John nuzzled the spot behind Sherlock’s ear.
“That tickles. But yes.”
John kept nuzzling until Sherlock pushed him back, unable to keep from giggling any longer.
“Sex is out.”
“You don’t like sex? No, I suppose not, just transport and all.”
“It’s not that. It’s overwhelming, too much sensory input. A lot of repetitive motions. I get bored before orgasm much of the time.”
“Much of the time?”
“Mh. Masturbation would be fine. I understand you need to do so more than I do. I have no problem, ah, helping out, if that is something you would be interested in. But I have no desire for that offer to be reciprocated.”
“It’s fine. We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Is touching okay? Or should I do less of that?” John shifted his hand from Sherlock’s waist to the middle of his back.
“No, I like this. It’s hard to explain. Arousal just makes contact overwhelming, I suppose.”
John nodded as if he understood. “So, you do get aroused?”
“Occasionally, yes. Certain things are pleasing.”
John looked at him with a grin.
“Shut up,” Sherlock muttered. John pressed several kisses to soft lips until Sherlock’s frown dissolved. Sherlock slipped a hand under the hem of John’s shirt, untucked his vest, and slid a hand to the small of his back. He held their bodies close, even as John gasped softly, reddening slightly. His half-hard cock responded against Sherlock’s abdomen.
“It’s odd. There are certain spots that normally aren’t erogenous zones, but when you’re aroused, they certainly seem like it,” Sherlock murmured with a bit of a smile. Teasing John would be a good way to ease into things, perhaps allow John to get comfortable with the idea arousal wasn’t bad, not for him, but it didn’t need to be two-sided, like he was previously used to in relationships.
John looked curious. As Sherlock slotted a thigh between John’s, his flush darkened, this time more from arousal than embarrassment. Sherlock reached a hand up to John’s face and slowly brushed his thumbpad over his lower lip. John had an urge to pull the digit in between his lips, but resisted. His hips bucked against Sherlock’s hip before he could stop himself as Sherlock’s hand slid along his cheek. Eventually long fingers curled around the back of his ear and a thumb rubbed slow circles against his earlobe.
“Wow,” John murmured. “That is—that’s not normal.” He tried keeping his attention towards not dry humping Sherlock, but his fingers against just his ear made this much more difficult than John thought it would be.
“The human body is odd, so intricate. So many weaknesses,” Sherlock commented with a chuckle. With another slow stroke of his fingers from John’s earlobe to the now-scarlet tip, John moaned and thrust fully against Sherlock’s body. There was a certain thrill, Sherlock found, to controlling John like this.
Sherlock trailed his fingers down John’s arm, seemingly sensitising skin as he merely touched it. He wrapped his hand around John’s fingers and brought his wrist up to press soft, dry kisses to the blue veins barely visible under his skin. The touch tickled at first, as evident by John’s breathless giggle. However, when Sherlock parted his lips and mouthed gently at the skin, the warm breath and wet lips made John shiver.
“Sherlock.” John swallowed to avoid sounding so…stimulated. “Sherlock, this is cruel,” he tried to sound as if he were joking but the forced laugh was breathless and almost turned into a groan as Sherlock took two of his fingers into his mouth. “Christ.” John’s eyes closed. He could not picture that mouth somewhere it will never be. Sherlock’s nose crinkled. John tasted a bit like antiseptic. Even still, he pulled off teasingly slow and began pressing open-mouth kisses to John’s neck to replace the bad taste of his fingers.
“Why are you doing this?” John certainly didn’t whimper, but it could hardly be classified as anything but.
“Because you like it.” Sherlock shifted his leg between John’s and felt him respond with a thrust. “I don’t mind it,” he added after a moment. “I like seeing you like this.”
About five minutes later, Sherlock sat cross-legged beside John, who was laid out on his back with a hand grasping either the bed sheets or Sherlock’s shirt. He had just gotten into a quick rhythm, John’s hand on top of his around John’s cock, when Mrs. Hudson came into their flat yelling something about having leftovers from dinner she thought the boys might appreciate. Before John knew it, the space next to him was empty and the hand he had been encompassing was gone, leaving just cold air in the wake. Sherlock had stopped after opening his bedroom door, closed it, and turned back to John.
“Not good,” he seemed to tell himself as he slowly returned to the bed. John couldn’t help but smile for some reason.
“Go on. I’ll be there in a minute, yeah?” John shamelessly resumed stroking himself. Sherlock bit his lip, unsure, before John nodded. He bent down to give John a quick kiss but let it become a messy, open-mouthed kiss that had John keening in appreciation.
Sherlock wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt and met Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen, where she was still uncovering dishes. She seemed to pause for a moment when she looked at him. He hadn’t thought about how dishevelled he may have appeared.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, dear. You get so little sleep as it is.”
Sherlock waved his hand dismissively as he yawned.
“Is John in?”
“He’ll be out shortly, I imagine. He does so love your cooking.” He took a couple of plates out of the cabinet and took the closest seat after washing his hands. Mrs. Hudson finished setting out the dishes and gave him a couple soft pats on his head on her way out.
That was a rare occasion. John mostly kept his sexual desires to himself, spending more time in the shower or in his own room. Sherlock didn’t tease him like he had that night. They didn’t talk about it anymore.
Sherlock wasn’t oblivious, though. He could see John looking at other people, males and females. Sherlock wasn’t exactly jealous; he knew John wouldn’t actually cheat. Well, he knew John wouldn’t be stupid enough to think he could get away with it under Sherlock’s observation.
It wasn’t bad when it was strangers or people in passing. But Sherlock wouldn’t forget the day John gave Detective Inspector Lestrade that look, that look he gave those in passing. He’d bite his bottom lip and look up through his blonde lashes, almost coy. He’d gave Sherlock that look a lot one night when they were a bit more than tipsy. He found it adorable.
“Lestrade?” Sherlock looked over at John in disbelief before he could stop himself. John caught himself, looked confused for a moment, then excused himself. Sherlock turned his focus back on the two bodies in front of him. It was suspected to be a murder-suicide.
“Where’s John? Wasn’t he just here?”
“Not feeling well. He’s outside.”
Lestrade nodded.
Almost four hours later, the three of them were chasing down the suspect. Sherlock hadn’t expected Lestrade to keep up, but he was keeping pace with John just a couple strides behind Sherlock. He couldn’t waste time analysing them together at that moment, but he could hear both sets of rapid footsteps. Maybe this would be better—
Gunfire ended his thought process on that topic. A few moments later, Sherlock had tackled the man to the pavement while Lestrade pulled his arms behind his back. John watched both men grin at each other, high on adrenaline.
Fuck. He wanted both of them. At that moment, he knew exactly what he’d be thinking about for half an hour while he showered later. Worse yet, Sherlock would know.
He was anxiously swaying from foot to other foot when Lestrade and Sherlock appeared before him, still breathless, while the man—the cousin who would have gained favour for killing the girl, the boyfriend had just shown up at the wrong time—was carried away. John felt warm.
“I don’t have much paperwork to fill out for this one. Thanks for keeping me in the loop this time ‘round,” Lestrade said to Sherlock, still grinning. Sherlock nodded. It wouldn’t happen again soon. “So, what do you say to a drink?” he directed this question more towards John. He expected Sherlock to have left already.
“Sounds like fun—“ Sherlock sounded much too pleasant.
“No, I don’t think so—“ John said at the same time. They looked at each other in confusion.
“Fun?” John asked in disbelief.
“No?” Sherlock asked in a similar tone.
Lestrade looked on in amusement.
“We’ll join you in a moment,” Sherlock told Lestrade while John kept looking at him. When Lestrade didn’t walk away, Sherlock prompted, “A moment.”
“Right,” Lestrade left them without looking back. Sherlock pulled John away from the other people around them with a hand to John’s upper arm.
“Listen, I don’t know—“ John started.
“You can, if you want—“ Sherlock said, simultaneously. They took a settling breath. “It’s fine,” Sherlock said before John could interrupt. “It happens. I understand. Kind of,” Sherlock looked unsure for a moment. “I’m sure he’d be interested, too.”
John blinked. “Are you suggesting I leave you for Lestrade?” he asked incredulously.
“What? No. Of course not,” Sherlock responded in that tone that suggested John had said something idiotic.
“Then who gives a damn whether he’s interested?”
“Because I know you’ll come back to me,” Sherlock swallowed. He was about eighty-nine percent sure John wouldn’t leave him for Lestrade.
“I’m not—I won’t—I can’t possibly—“
Sherlock blinked while John continued stuttering.
“I’m not going to have casual hook-ups with Greg.”
“Not until we find out if his desires are reciprocated, anyhow.”
“Sherlock, that’s not what I meant.” John sighed in exasperation. “You see nothing wrong with this.”
“It would solve the rather huge problem that we don’t address.”
“I’m fine without sex.”
“No, you’re not. You get short with me,” Sherlock stuck his lower lip out, pouting for just a moment. “Eventually it’ll go beyond that and you’ll get really upset, not necessarily at me, but you’ll take it out on me. This way, everyone’s happy.”
“Almost everyone. I wouldn’t feel good about doing that to you.”
“Doing what to me? I want very little part in the way of sex. If you can get that from someone else, ofcourseI’llbepresent—“ Sherlock added quickly, quietly, in hopes of getting it passed John, “then what is the problem? You get your needs met and I get—“
“Hold on. Hold on. You’ll be present? As in, in the room, doing nothing but watching?”
“Well, I’d assumed you’d be using my room anyway. Lestrade shares a flat with another man since his wife made him move out. I don’t think he’d take kindly to…this.” Sherlock gestured between the two of them. “Besides, the less people know, the better. You don’t like others knowing about your personal life.”
John placed his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and just closed his eyes. “Stop. Talking.” John breathed a few deep breaths in the quiet that followed. He could practically feel the excitement just under Sherlock’s clothes and skin. The adrenaline high hadn’t faded yet.
“We’re going to join Greg for drinks, like we said we would. If you feel the need to bring this up to him, at least let him get four drinks down first, yeah?” John really should have known giving Sherlock any sort of permission meant he was going to do it. “And if, if he is amenable to your conditions, we will see,” John emphasised this point with a look, “if things can work out.” John saw Sherlock’s expression and felt the need to add, “Please don’t get your hopes up, love. And we are definitely talking more about this when we get home later. As in, why it’s not good to try and set your boyfriend up with your…”
They both looked a bit unsure of what to consider Lestrade and Sherlock’s relationship.
“Well, you shouldn’t be trying to set your boyfriend up with anyone, really,” John said with another sigh. Sherlock just grinned, took his hand, and lead them back towards the street, where they could catch a cab to the pub.
Sherlock waited quite impatiently for Greg to finish his fourth drink—finally! John had left the table to get a round of shots, leaving Sherlock to broach the topic with Greg not-so-delicately.
“Do you want to have sex with John?”
Greg blinked. How else do you respond to such a question? “He’s an attractive man, sure. You’ve no reason to be jealous, though. He’s clearly in love with you.”
Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. “I know. That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Sherlock, what is the point of this?”
“I merely want to know if you wish to have sex with John.”
John returned to a quiet, somewhat tense atmosphere with a confused, slightly apprehensive Greg and a frustrated Sherlock. Greg immediately reached for a shot glass.
“What’d he say?” John fell back into his seat while Greg reached for another shot.
“He refuses to answer me,” Sherlock didn’t exactly pout but his lower lip did pop out a bit.
“If I say yes, what’re you going to do to me?” Greg asked as he added the second empty shot glass to the first.
“He’s trying to set you up with me,” John said calmly.
Greg blinked again. “Um, what?”
“He’s sexually attracted to you,” Sherlock huffed. Greg still seemed to be missing some connections.
“So, you want him to have sex with me, instead of you?”
“Yes,” Sherlock nodded. “If the feeling is reciprocated.”
“Why?”
“I don’t particularly care for the sexual part of a relationship. John clearly does. So, everyone wins.”
“Everyone wins? Sherlock, I just got out of a three-year marriage. I don’t want to jump right into a purely casual relationship.”
“It wouldn’t be a purely casual relationship. Actually, I think the correct term would be a polyamorous relationship.”
“I feel as though I should also mention Sherlock wants to be in the room while we’re, well, having sex,” John said with a sigh while Sherlock nodded as if it were obvious.
Greg reached for the third and last shot in front of John. “All right,” Greg said quietly, surprising himself.
“All right?” John leaned towards Greg to affirm. He, too, was in disbelief. Greg agreed way too easily.
Greg put his face in his hands for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. All right,” he said more confidently. Sherlock grinned while John continued looking at Greg.
“Are you sure?” John asked.
“No.”
“Maybe you should see if you are compatible, first,” Sherlock suggested. “A kiss should suffice, yes?”
Greg’s gaze dropped from John’s eyes to his lips. John unconsciously licked his lip. “Yeah, all right,” John agreed. Sherlock sipped his water. He had to admit there was a pang of jealousy as John initiated a chaste kiss. Greg placed a hand on John’s knee and John pushed him for more. Sherlock continued smiling nonetheless. It seemed as though this could work out.
“So, yes?” Sherlock set his glass down. John and Greg pulled away from one another, faces flushed in embarrassment, having gotten slightly carried away. They looked at each other, then at Sherlock. John nodded.
“Christ, I must be desperate,” Greg groaned. John patted Greg’s leg sympathetically. “Not tonight, okay? I need to go home.” Greg started gathering his coat from his chair. Sherlock stood to pull Greg’s coat on by the collar then turned Greg to face him. He froze in surprise as Sherlock’s lips touched his own.
“What’re you doing?” Greg murmured against Sherlock’s mouth.
“I was curious. Wanted to taste for myself.” Sherlock stepped back to let Greg go.
“Christ,” Greg whispered to himself as he turned and left. Sherlock took what had been Greg’s chair and sat close to John. John put an arm over Sherlock’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“You madman,” John said fondly with a grin.
Sherlock hummed as he leaned against John’s body.
It was a week before all parties involved were able to find a free night. They skipped the pub that night and went straight to Baker Street. Sherlock made them all tea while Greg and John got right into it, groping and kissing eagerly.
They didn’t pause or even take notice of Sherlock when he set the two mugs on the coffee table and took his to his chair. The only sounds in the room were coming from the two men on the sofa. Sherlock was tempted to reach for his violin.
Ultimately, it took Sherlock saying something to push them into the bedroom, completely ignoring the tea on the coffee table. Sherlock was almost certain they would have attempted to have sex on the sofa, leading to sex on the floor when one of them fell off the sofa, which would lead to some bruising and some sore muscles.
Upon entering his room, Sherlock pulled John into a kiss while Greg kept petting him. “Are you okay?” John had a hand on Sherlock’s arm and a hand on Greg’s hip behind him. Sherlock nodded. “Felt left out?”
Sherlock nodded with a sheepish smile.
“Don’t, love.” John cupped Sherlock’s face with both of his hands. He couldn’t stop the shiver with Greg mouthing the back of his neck and untucking the hem of his shirt and vest. Sherlock nuzzled into the other side of his neck for a moment then took his place in the only chair in his room.
John looked to make sure Sherlock wasn’t sulking, but Greg’s hand slipping into his trousers to stroke him from behind took his attention away. Sherlock enjoyed witnessing John’s resulting flush spread to his nose and tips of his ears until John turned back towards Greg.
Greg was hesitant about doing this with Sherlock just watching them. It felt oddly thrilling, on the other hand, to be on the end of that pale, piercing gaze of his. Sherlock’s full attention would be on them and what they were doing to each other. With John’s body underneath him, strong thighs around his own, pelvis to pelvis, Greg realised he may come to absolutely love this situation, if it were to continue.
“How do you want to do this?” Greg asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“Anything but penetration. Not yet,” John murmured as he nipped at Greg’s exposed neck. He pulled button after button loose until he was able to divest Greg of his shirt, followed by his vest. He began doing the same to his own shirt while Greg pulled their trousers open. They both groaned at the contact of their erections through their pants. John focused on removing his shirts while Greg squirmed out of the grip of his thighs to pull both his own and John’s trousers and pants off.
John looked utterly delectable. His face flush, pupils dilated, chest heaving with each breath. His legs were still spread from when Greg pulled away and both Greg and Sherlock were treated with a lovely view of John. John’s left hand drifted down until he was lazily stroking himself as he met Greg’s gaze.
“Fuck, you’re lovely,” Greg commented. His hands slid down the insides of John’s thighs, revelling in the muscle under his skin. In that moment, he knew what he wanted and that was those fucking fantastic thighs on either side of his head as he breathed John in. So, he did just that. He pressed kisses to the places his hands had just caressed while John continued his slow strokes. Greg brought a hand to grope John’s testicles while he nuzzled at the base of John’s cock, taking in the smell that was purely John Watson.
“Christ,” John moaned as Greg mouthed eagerly along the shaft of his cock. He tried to keep his legs open to avoid closing Greg in—he’d had claustrophobic partners before that reacted badly—but Greg encouraged the legs around his chest to press against him. As Greg let a knuckle press lightly against his perineum in slow circles, John let his thighs close tightly against Greg’s upper body. John thrust a hand into Greg’s hair and encouraged him to suck him down. Greg obliged him, much to John’s relief.
“Oh, yeah, that’s brilliant.” John huffed a breath out as he watched Greg’s mouth work around him, taking half his cock easily. On the upstroke, Greg sucked harder and swirled his tongue around the head in a way that had John arching off the bed.
Greg let John guide him initially. Slowly, he took more and more of John’s cock until he was deepthroating John and John gave up control. Greg happily sped up and let both hands drift up to John’s chest to thumb over each nipple.
John looked up towards Sherlock in the chair to just check on him. If, even for a moment, Sherlock did not find this acceptable, John would stop. However, Sherlock didn’t look upset, rather intrigued. Not so much interested as in aroused by the sight, but he seemed to be analysing something. Of-bloody-course he would. Human response in a sexual situation or something like that. John let his head fall back onto the pillow and arched into Greg’s mouth again. “Fucking—fuck. You’re brilliant at that.”
Greg let John’s cock fall from his lips with a lewd-sounding ‘pop.’ “Yeah?” he grinned. John pulled him back up to put their bodies flush against one another.
“Yeah,” John said breathlessly just before his mouth closed on Greg’s. John felt Greg thrust against him, his cock nestled into the crease where thigh met torso. “Oh, fuck. Sher—Sherlock.” John closed his eyes to focus on his words. Greg began mouthing at his neck again without pause.
Sherlock looked up. “Yes?” he prompted when John didn’t continue. For a moment both Sherlock and Greg thought John had let the name slip by accident.
“Would you…please…go get the, um, the lube I have in my…my drawer? Please?”
Sherlock got up, walked over to his own bedside table, and pulled the mostly full bottle he had. “Will this work?” he asked as he held it out.
Greg paused and allowed John to breathe in a shaky breath. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
“Thank you.” Greg sat up and gave Sherlock a grin. He leaned over to give Sherlock a soft kiss to the cheek and caressed his face before he really thought about it. Sherlock blinked in surprise. It was a long, slightly tense, and awkward moment before Sherlock turned away and Greg returned his attention to a smirking John.
Greg and John laid on their sides, facing each other. John had a leg over Greg’s waist and Greg had a leg pressed between John’s legs to get as close as possible. John spread a generous amount of lubricant between their two cocks and began slowly stroking them together. Greg’s hand soon joined his to fully encompass both of them as they thrust up into their hands. Greg pulled his hand away for a moment to coat a couple of his fingers on his other hand in lube and stroke them along John’s cleft. John eagerly thrust against Greg as he returned his hand to their cocks.
“Is this okay?” Greg asked, his voice a bit rough.
“Yes. God, yes. In, in, please,” John didn’t beg, per se, but eagerly requested. Greg obliged him once again by gently massaging John to relax so he could slip his index finger into him. “Oh, Greg,” John murmured appreciatively. “That’s great. Perfect.”
“Could be better,” Greg responded. A few moments later, the tip of his finger brushed John’s prostate and John absolutely keened. “There we go,” Greg grinned and pressed a kiss to John’s parted lips.
Both men thrust erratically into their joined hands until John came first with a strained moan. Greg took his hand away, coated in John’s semen, and began stroking himself hard and fast until he came with a shudder.
While they were both still recovering from orgasm, Sherlock—clad in his pyjamas—forced his way between them to lay on his back. John rested his head on an outstretched arm while Greg cuddled up to his side and laid his head on Sherlock’s chest. He received a kiss to the top of his head before John got a soft kiss to the lips.
“Mhh, we should shower,” John said lazily. Greg sighed.
“In a minute.”
“Does this not bother you?” John turned his head towards Sherlock.
“No.”
“But we’re…” John held the hand covered in bodily fluids and lube.
Sherlock shrugged. “Sex is messy. You’ve just had sex. So, you’re messy. I wanted, er…to be included.”
“You wanted to cuddle, despite the mess,” John said with a chuckle. Sherlock huffed but didn’t deny it. Greg snuggled closer and felt Sherlock’s arm tighten around him for a moment, then Sherlock’s hand run along his back.
“You’re an odd one,” John said affectionately. Echoes of ‘freak’ nipped at Sherlock’s consciousness, but John snuggling into his other side kept it from bothering him.
“You love odd,” Sherlock murmured against the top of John’s head.
“I must. I love you, after all.”
Sherlock exhaled sharply. “Oh.”
John didn’t take offense. Sherlock wasn’t always the best at expressing or receiving such personal, emotional matters.
“Hey,” John murmured. Greg met his gaze. “I love you, too.” John smiled softly and pressed a kiss to Greg’s mouth.
“Um, you do?” Greg responded, flustered.
John nodded. “I understand it may not be mutual just yet, but hopefully we’ll get there.” He gave Greg another soft smile.
“I think I love you,” Sherlock said from above them. He was looking at John with that piercing gaze of his. John continued to smile.
“Yeah? You think so?” John teased.
“I don’t particularly know what constitutes ‘love.’ I like you, I like doing this with you. If we keep doing this, this cuddling thing, I’ll certainly love you at some point, dopamine and oxytocin dictate that. But I don’t know when—“ Sherlock was cut off by John’s lips on his own.
“It’s fine, Sherlock. ‘I think’ is enough for me. Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” John smeared his hand covered in drying lube and semen across Greg’s cheek so he couldn’t refuse.
“Menace,” Greg grumbled as he reluctantly pulled himself away from Sherlock’s warm body.
“Love you, too,” John called back over his shoulder.
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have done that,” Greg said as they left Sherlock alone in the bed.
In the time it took them to shower, Sherlock was able to change the sheets and have three mugs of tea set out on the table for them. John reappeared first in just underwear while Greg followed in his underwear and vest. John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips in gratitude.
“You’re probably hungry.” Sherlock looked around the kitchen. There wasn’t really anything that really constituted as food. “Well, we could call for takeaway.”
“I’m sure I can manage a simple meal.” Greg got up to start riffling through cabinets.
“You shouldn’t have to. You’re a guest,” Sherlock said.
“It isn’t a problem.” Greg patted Sherlock’s head as he walked behind his chair. Sherlock almost hummed in appreciation.
Greg had somehow found enough ingredients to make rice, chicken, and broccoli that turned out to be delicious. John did the few dishes while Greg cooked and Sherlock clung to one or the other.
“If he gets to be too much, just tell him,” John said to Greg as he watched Sherlock press himself to Greg’s back.
“Never.” Greg chuckled quietly. Sherlock grinned in John’s direction after pressing a kiss to the nape of Greg’s neck. He, then, put his chin on Greg’s shoulder and watched him stir the rice. “Are you always this affectionate?”
“Not always.” He pressed a kiss to Greg’s cheek.
“Hm, but when you do get into one of those moods, you tend to go all out,” John said.
“I suppose. Food smells delicious.” Sherlock nuzzled into Greg’s neck. Greg placed an arm over the two around his waist.
“Yeah?” Greg nuzzled back into the affectionate detective. Sherlock hummed in response.