SUMMER OF SHERLOCK: Entry No. 13
Username: she_burns1
Type of work: Fic
Category: Gen
Title: Pub Night II: The Return of Pub Night
Prompt(s) used: Any; the longest day of the year
Rating: R
Word count: 8,987
Warnings: alcohol, mentions of sex, language, humor - yes, humor!
Notes/Acknowledgments: This is a sequel. I intended it to be something you could read separate but I am afraid it will probably make more sense if you read the first Pub Night! Keep your eyes peeled for a joke plucked straight from ‘Community’ (though I assure you all the rest are my own) and feel free to suspend your disbelief at a pub that has far too many facets of fun to be real. Not beta or brit!picked and pretty damned crackish.
“Why on earth did I agree to this again?”
“You agreed because we still have communication problems.” Lestrade told Anderson firmly but then softened the blow with a smile that bordered on cheeky, “And it’s my birthday!”
Lestrade and Anderson sat in the same booth of the pub that they had sat in the last time they had all been gathered together. All of them being Lestrade, Anderson, Sally, John and Sherlock (with the late addition of one Molly Hooper). The exact same group was meeting once again this very evening and Anderson, being the first to arrive, looked exceedingly uncomfortable, “I don’t see why these…issues…couldn’t have been discussed in a more civilized place.”
Lestrade shrugged, “Worked well enough last time.”
Anderson scoffed at the very idea and Lestrade shook his head, “No, really. We’ve all worked a bit more cohesively since Saint Patrick’s Day. Sure, there have been some - ah - alterations in…relationships since then, but overall I’d say that things have improved. Or at least, they had improved until, well,” Lestrade paused and cleared his throat, avoiding Anderson’s eyes, “some of those relationships went, uh, south.”
Something in Anderon’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say a word. Instead he eyed the entrance to the pub and shifted where he sat, “So…she is coming then?”
Lestrade nodded, “Yes. She is.”
Anderson let out a heavy breath, “I don’t think this is…”
His words died off as Sally entered. She scanned the entirety of the pub then, seeing Lestrade and Anderson, she threw back her shoulders and walked over, head held high and when she approached them she spoke directly to Lestrade first, voice warm, “Evening, sir, happy birthday!”
“Thank you, Sally.”
She then regarded Anderson and her voice dipped several degrees, “Hello.”
“Sally…” Anderson started but she cut him off, eyes back on Lestrade, returning to her friendlier persona, “Any good gifts so far?”
“None yet, save for O’Donnell and Dimmock vowing to keep on top of things again so that I can enjoy an evening off. Both of ‘em gave me a little pocket change, told me to take a drink in their stead.”
Sally grinned and bobbed her head, “As well they should. I imagine I’ll do very much the same. Couldn’t think of a proper gift for you past a pint.”
Lestrade chuckled and polished off his current drink, “Wonder what that says about me.”
“Well, I may have arranged one special surprise for you.”
“Oh?”
Sally beamed, “Got O’Donnell’s sister, the lady that runs this pub, to get some bloke to set up karaoke tonight.”
Lestrade burst out laughing, “No, you didn’t!”
“Oh yes, and I very much look forward to your serenade as does someone else I brought with me.”
Molly walked over looking quite bashful as she approached the table, “Hi, sorry, would have been here earlier but I had to pay the cabbie.”
Sally rolled her eyes, “I offered but she can be surprisingly stubborn.”
Lestrade rose to his feet and approached Molly, putting his hands gently on her shoulders, “Yeah, that’s my girl.”
Molly blushed before she gave him a quick kiss, “Happy birthday.”
“Is that your idea of a birthday kiss, Molly-Wobbles?” he asked against her hair as he drew her closer and she gently batted at him, “Don’t call me that! Not-not in front of your friends!”
“Hey! I resent that! I’m your friend too, Molly.” Sally chuckled. Molly ducked her head, “Yes, yes, sorry, right.”
“And what I am?” Anderson asked. Sally’s eyes shot daggers at him, “A parasite.”
Anderson was about to object when Lestrade drew away from Molly, “Ah, yes, now, see…this is what we need to talk about tonight. There’s this…issue between the two of you that has been interfering with our teamwork as a whole and communication is, in many ways, the backbone of our jobs.”
Sally shook her head, “Lord, I need a drink before you start going off on one of your lectures.”
“My…I-I don’t lecture!” Lestrade objected after her as she stalked off towards the bar but Molly, looking slightly chagrined, spoke up, “Oh, well, see…you-you kind of do. Give lectures, I mean. Not that I don’t find them lovely! Honestly! I find them endearing! But, you can…you know…go on a bit.”
Lestrade looked flummoxed, “Molly, what…how can you-?”
“You’ve…made them to me once or twice. You know, ‘bout leaving my stockings hung up in your shower or how you need to sleep on your side of the bed.”
“I’ve always slept on the left! It’s just…” Lestrade waved it off, “Never mind, never mind. She can have her drink.”
“Mm, think I’ll get one too, actually.” Molly said and gave Anderson a pitying look, “Um…do you want one as well? I can get it for you?”
“No, thank you.” Anderson sighed and his eyes drifted to Sally. She stood at the bar, drink in hand, laughing at something the man behind the counter said before she turned and caught him looking at her. Her gaze became glacial. Anderson looked away, instead turning his attention back to Lestrade, “Please tell me he’s not coming.”
“Who? Sherlock? Of course he’s coming.” Lestrade said as if Anderson should really know better, “He and John both.”
Anderson let out a sound of disgust, “Why?”
“Again, my birthday! I wanted them to come. John, in particular. Owes me a couple of quid on that last Manchester United game. Surprised he isn’t here, as a matter of fact. Should’ve shown up over ten minutes ago. Not like him to be late. Same for Sherlock. Though, I suppose, not being a murder Sherlock could be taking his time. But, again, John would have made sure that they - ah! Wait! Speak of the devil! There they are!” Lestrade said, his eyes picking them out as they walked through the front door and he motioned them over.
Anderson groaned, eyes on the ceiling, “Great. First you and Molly, now them. And they’re a million times worse, the love birds.”
Lestrade started to refute that but then thought better of it. After all, Anderson was right. It was a not-so-well-kept-secret that the world’s only consulting detective and his flatmate, the ex-army doctor, had finally moved well beyond friendship and into a vastly more intimate relationship. Lestrade himself had been witness to their very first kiss - as had Sally, Anderson, and Molly.
From there things had become interesting to say the least. There had long been much speculation and heated debate at the Yard as to how such a relationship would progress between the two fellows. The idea of kinky bedroom antics (Whips! Chains! Ropes!) were tossed about as well as the belief that no such relationship could be healthy much lessnormal. It was highly believed that, should such a thing ever happen between the two, it would not last long and indeed be engulfed in the hot flames of failure.
And then instead, much to everyone’s surprise, the unexpected happened.
Sherlock and John were in a relationship and they were happy. Blissfully so. Or, as defined by almost the entirety of the Yard, nauseatingly so. Oh, Sherlock was still Sherlock. He swooped down on crime scenes with the same biting remarks, brilliant observations, and little regard for others as always. And John was still John, following after him dutifully, offering gentle excuses and apologies, giving amiable assistance when needed and keeping his eyes out for any trouble.
But there were these moments now. Moments when they’d be caught standing too close together, hands casually lingering over shoulders and elbows, heads bowed near one another so they could surreptitiously whisper, giggle, lips covertly brushing ears.
And then there were the telltale glances, the moments where they would sneak off to do god-knows-what before returning to the scene of the crime slightly flushed and breathless, and then, worst of all, the occasional comment from one to the other that bordered on what had to be their version of sugar-coated compliments or, lord help them all, endearments.
It wouldn’t have even been so bad save for the fact that it happened all the time. Every crime scene, as a matter of fact, and yes, it did off set the brutality of some cases but that didn’t make it any less off putting. Or gag worthy.
The fact that they were so blantly head over heels for one another was oftentimes a bit too much. Even more so now to Anderson as they approached and he caught sight of them. He was unable to keep himself from sneering, “And what are you two on about?”
John’s head titled to one side, “Don’t know what you mean?”
“You’re both glowing!”
“Are we?” John asked innocently and Sherlock’s face kept twitching as if he was trying to fight off a smile. Anderson, undeterred, continued, “Yes! And why were you so late? Not that I care, but…”
Lestrade frowned; eyes narrowed as he looked from John to Sherlock and then back again. Suddenly his head reared back, “Christ! I don’t even have to be an observational genius to know you two were shagging before you came here!”
Sherlock lost the fight with the smile on his face and it blossomed, large and almost frightening in its intensity, “Correct. Very well done, Detective Lestrade! You see, John can be quite…”
“Ah! Stop! Stop! I’m begging you! ‘S my birthday, alright!” Lestrade pleaded, hands raised in surrender and even John looked a little uncomfortable as he muttered, “Sherlock, remember our discussion about discretion?”
Sherlock scowled, “Why do you persist on making me repeat myself? I’ve told you subterfuge is idiotic. Everyone already knows.”
“And I’ve told you, discretion is not to be underrated.” John patted Sherlock’s elbow in a way that Lestrade had come to decipher as his way of giving Sherlock the equivalent of a peck on the lips before whispering something in his ear that he couldn’t quite catch save for a bit that sounded like ‘convince you again?’ and Sherlock’s pale complexion took on a little colour.
Yes, Anderson had well and truly nailed it, love birds indeed. He eyed the package Sherlock held and brightened considerably, “Did you bring me a present?”
“Ah, yes,” Sherlock handed the package to Lestrade, “There was some argument about this. John insisted that gift giving is an important, if not essential, part of this ridiculous social ritual. I objected but he,” Sherlock paused and the frightening smile from before returned in full force, “convinced me otherwise.”
Lestrade now held the gift gingerly, “This-this isn’t anything…untoward is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Lestrade looked it over suspiciously, shook it near his ear then, shrugging, ripped the wrapping off and opened the package. He peered inside and his eyebrows rose, “These are…badges…wait, hang on - these are my badges!”
Lestrade turned the package upside down and several badges spilled out on to the table. Sherlock nodded, “John told me the best gifts are personal.”
“Personal how? In that they’re already mine?” Lestrade muttered as he dug through the collection, “Always wondered how I could possibly lose these…knew I wasn’t that forgetful…”
“Not forgetful, no, merely unobservant.” Sherlock offered, “But then, that’s always been your problem.”
“According to you that’s everyone’s problem.”
“Quite.”
Lestrade breathed out loudly through his nose and put the badges back in the box before putting it down under the table near his feet, “Frankly I think my bigger problem is the pick pocketing bastard I occasionally keep company with. Lucky for him, I’m a big fan of his bleeding flatmate.”
“That flatmate being me?” John smiled and proffered some money in his direction, “Here’s what I owe you for the bet as well as a little extra for your birthday.”
“Thanks.” Lestrade took it and tucked it away, “You getting a drink?”
“Yeah, snagging Sherlock and myself a pint. Would you like me to grab you one as well? My treat?”
Lestrade was about to answer when Molly and Sally returned, Molly holding two glasses high, “Not necessary, John. I got Greg-Legs his drink.”
Lestrade’s embarrassment was evident, “Molly…don’t-don’t call me that in front of, you know,” he waved about the group but in particular pointed in Sherlock’s direction. Molly took her seat next to him with a sigh, “You started it.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” He murmured and kissed her cheek as she came closer, taking his drink from her. Sherlock eyed them with some interest and John went off in the direction of the bar. Once John was out of sight, Sherlock turned his full attention to both Sally and Anderson, “I have, in fact, come bearing more than one gift this evening. I have something for Anderson.”
Everyone looked appropriately horrified at this very idea but Sherlock did not react, instead clicking a few buttons on his phone before presenting it to Anderson, “If you press right here…”
Anderson looked at the phone as if it would bite him. Sherlock’s eyebrows rose, the look as challenging as it was innocuous, and, not wanting to appear intimidated, Anderson snatched the device away from him and pressed the emphasized keys. A video started to play on the tiny screen, the sounds tinny and it took Anderson a few minutes to even realize what he was seeing. When he did, his mouth dropped open, “This-this is a sex tape!”
“Not just any sex tape.” Sherlock looked terribly smug as he looked in Sally’s direction, “This one has a…particular star.”
Sally took the device from Anderson’s fingers in a flash, “No! No, you couldn’t have possibly!”
The last time they had all met together they had played a very revealing game of ‘I Never’ wherein it was discovered that Sally had made a sex tape. The others had asked to view it but she had responded with an adamant ‘no’. Apparently Sherlock had ignored this.
“How did you find this!” she cried, “This was ages ago!”
“It took some searching, yes, but in this era of technological advance...”
Lestrade and Molly couldn’t help but edge towards Sally, trying to sneak peeks over her shoulder. Sally’s face was taking on a rather unhealthy shade as she tossed the phone down on the table. Sherlock turned towards Anderson and said patronizingly, “You should take comfort in this, because as you can see, she had an excellent sex life before you and she will continue to have one after you.”
Anderson looked to be in as much the same murderous state of mind as Sally and both of them seemed more than ready to advance on Sherlock when John returned with their drinks and, immediately sensing the animosity, grimaced, “What did you do?”
Sherlock gave his best innocent look, “Nothing.”
“Nothing! He found a sex tape of me!” Sally shouted, fingers clenched claws and John put the glasses down so he could pinch the bridge of his nose, “Sherlock, for heaven’s sake! That is so not-”
“Oh my god!” Molly cried out, covering her mouth and all attention turned to both her and Lestrade who now held the phone. Molly pointed at the screen, “John! That’s…what are you doing in this!”
“What? Give me that!” Sherlock snapped and he snatched the phone back from Lestrade, eyes intent on the screen. He had watched some of the film but not all of it and, sure enough, there was John on screen, standing in the now opened bedroom door watching Sally engaged in heated intercourse with some nameless fellow.
John frowned and looked at the screen as did Sally, whose anger had tempered slightly with curiosity. John looked at Sally, then at the screen, and then back again. He blinked a few times, “Ohhh…uh, huh…well, you know…when I first met you, I did think you looked awfully familiar but I couldn’t quite place where I had…” he scratched at the back of his head, looking sheepish, “Maybe because of the, ah, angles…”
She pointed at him accusingly, “You’re that bloke that came in? I thought it was one of Benny’s stupid friends!”
“Yeah, well, you were right. Sort of. I was actually Benny’s brother Mike’s friend.”
“You know Mike?”
“Yeah, went to Bart’s together.” John said and both he and Sally looked at each other with the kind of understanding that only comes between two people who have unveiled a secret bond between one another, “Boy, it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
“Who’s Benny?” Lestrade couldn’t help asking.
Sally sighed, “The guy in the video that I’m…um, well…”
Sherlock turned off the video and looked appraisingly at John, “I see when you entered the room you did not leave right away. I thought social decorum would dictate that you exit the scene immediately.”
John licked his lips, blushing, “Yeah, well, mean…it was…interesting.”
“To watch them engaged in intercourse?”
“I…I didn’t know what else to do.” He said then waved a hand at Sally, “And it’s not like they stopped!”
Sally gave him a sly grin, “It was a damn good shag. Didn’t see the point in stopping just because some perverted spectator walked in.”
“Hey, hey! I’m-I’m not…” Sally started laughing and John couldn’t help but join in and soon most of the hostility seemed to die away save for Anderson who still looked more than put out. Sherlock returned the phone to his pocket and the issue of the video was dropped in light of the need to make the appropriate seating arrangements.
Considering certain people didn’t want to be grouped together it took a while to get adjusted in the booth but soon enough Sally sat at one end with John to her left, Sherlock next to him followed by Lestrade, Molly, and finally Anderson on the other, opposite end from her. Everyone had their drinks and was well enough settled before Lestrade spoke, “I’d like to thank you all for coming this evening. Not just because it’s my birthday but because we still have some issues of communication to address and, considering the success we had when last we were gathered here, I thought it best to meet here again and, what’s more, I have decided that we are going to play a game to get the ball rolling.”
Sherlock let out an aggravated groan, “Not another insipid game!” He turned to John, “We gave him his gift! Leaving now would not be-”
“Oh no,” John interrupted smartly, “We’re staying, alright. Especially after the shenanigans you pulled with the video. No, we’re staying and we’re playing,” he flashed him a wicked grin, “Especially in light of the fact that I was the one that suggested which game we should play. We’re going to play Truth or Dare.”
Everyone in the booth but John, Lestrade, and Sherlock looked dismayed, John and Lestrade because they both thought it a brilliant idea and Sherlock because he asked, “What is Truth or Dare?” which was met with a universal groan from everyone else at the booth.
“What is-? How do you not-?” John sighed grievously and looked to Lestrade for support, “Would you explain, please?”
Lestrade chuckled, shaking his head, “Right, well, what happens is, someone will ask you ‘truth or dare?’ and you choose one. If you choose ‘truth’, then they will ask you a question and you have to answer it honestly. If you choose ‘dare’, then someone will tell you to do something and you have to do it. And, for the sake of this game and the players present, I should stress that dares should be things we can actually do here at the pub that won’t get us into any trouble. Don’t want to create any problems for O’Donnell or his sister. Especially in light of the fact that neither one of them has been quite the same since the whole adoption fiasco came to light.”
This last bit was said rather pointedly at Sherlock who merely sighed, “I have already divined the reason we are playing this absurd game and wish to see it concluded quickly. As such, I would like to start as soon as possible.”
Lestrade nodded, “Fair enough. Being my birthday, I get to go first.”
He looked about the table before settling on Molly, “Truth or Dare?”
Molly giggled nervously, “Truth.”
“Do you have a secret talent?”
Sherlock let out another groan as Molly answered, “Yes, actually I can…I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue.”
Sherlock now looked interested, “No, you can’t.”
Molly sat up and stuck her bottom lip out firmly, voice wavering only slightly, “Yes, I can.”
“No, you can’t. It is physically impossible.”
“It is not! I can do it! I would need a cherry, but-” Sally interrupted her, rising to her feet, “Hang on, I’ll get you one!” She went to the bar and came back with a cocktail, a Maraschino cherry resting inside. She slid the drink towards Lestrade and winked, “You can have that to drink too, birthday boy.”
“Why do I get the sinking suspicion that you all are trying to get me drunk?” Lestrade murmured as he looked at the collection of drinks he was acquiring. Undeterred, Molly took the cherry from the drink and stuck it in her mouth while Sherlock continued to expound upon the idea that the feat Molly was claiming she was about to perform was folly.
His rant was interrupted the moment she produced the tied stem from her mouth and, taking his hand, placed it in his open palm, “Here you go!”
Sherlock stopped talking and, blinking, picked up the stem and intensely inspected it. It was indeed in a tiny little knot. Lestrade, seeing it, beamed and hugged Molly to him, “Again, that’s my girl.”
Molly giggled and looking at John asked, “Truth or Dare?”
“Oh, me? Alright, well, how about…dare?”
“Let me draw a mustache on you!” Molly said reaching into her purse and drawing out her eyeliner pen. John laughed, “What? Why?”
“It’ll be fun! Bet you’d look great with one!” She said and John shook his head, chuckling, “Okay, sure, why not?”
Molly quickly drew it on him and everyone at the table thought it was pretty amusing save for Sherlock who was still focused on the tied cherry stem and looking at Molly with newfound interest. The game progressed reasonably after that.
There were a variety of truths and a variety of dares, most often bland, though a few were noteworthy. Sally had to carry Molly piggyback about the pub for a stretch before confessing that if she had to make out with anyone in the room it would be John (to which Sherlock looked extremely livid) and Anderson was forced into agreeing to say ‘I love pink leather’ after everything that he said for at least five minutes. However, nothing was as entertaining as the feats Sherlock would perform as he resolved to only chose the dare option.
He left an obscene phone message for his brother (breathy orgasm sounds that made everyone in the booth shift in their seats), let Sally slap him (she announced that it was not the first time nor the last time but it felt damn satisfying and made up a little for his showing everyone the video), and had been the first to perform once karaoke was set up (a duet rendition of Elton John’s ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ with John that everyone agreed to never speak of again despite Molly’s protests that it was, quote, ‘cute’).
It wasn’t until after all these had been performed that Lestrade decided he had best put a stop to it, “Sherlock, you can’t choose ‘dare’ every time. It’s not sporting. You have to pick ‘truth’ now and again.”
Sherlock sneered, “Oh truth, truth is boring.”
“Maybe but I have to admit I was surprised you didn’t chose that more often. Thought you’d find most of these dares beneath you.”
“This entire game is beneath me and it still has yet to accomplish its intended goal. If I am to be forced to play it, I shall at least play it in the way I find to be the most diverting. Frankly, I don’t understand why you have chosen this as your particular means of getting them to talk to one another. If you wish for Sally and Anderson to discuss their disastrous-”
Lestrade started coughing loudly to cut Sherlock off and received narrowed eyes for his trouble. Worried the consulting detective would continue talking he said, “Look, how about, to make things interesting you chose only truth from now on and, to even things out, I chose only dare.”
“Very well, then I dare you to kiss every single person in this pub that you have not kissed before as well as every subsequent person that arrives.”
Lestrade blanched, “What? No!”
“Fine, then this game is forfeit and has been a complete waste of time as it did not offer up the desired results.”
Lestrade looked about the table a bit hopelessly. Sally and Anderson, having overheard yet another reference to their now dissolved relationship, focused their attention on their respective drinks. John interceded, “Sherlock, Lestrade did tell you that the dares had to be something we could actually do that wouldn’t get us into any trouble.”
“It won’t get him into any trouble if he handles himself accordingly,” Sherlock sniffed, “And you’re the one who’s always trying to convince me how clever he is. If this task had been laid at my feet, I assure you, I would be able to accomplish it with no issues whatsoever.”
John looked unsure at that but, Sherlock’s point made, he turned to Lestrade and offered a shrug as if to say ‘well, I tried’. Lestrade finally looked to Molly for help, “You can’t possibly be fine with this?”
Molly giggled, “Well, you’re so handsome! I can understand why anyone would want to kiss you! Besides, I am very confident in our relationship.”
“Confident enough to let me kiss other people?”
“Long as you come home with me tonight. I still have to give you your present.”
Lestrade tugged at the collar of his shirt at that because while her voice was as sweet as always, there was a simmering heat to her eyes that belied her words. Sherlock, amused, said, “Yes, Greg-Legs, what could it hurt?”
“God,” Lestrade rubbed at his face then glared at him “Alright, but if I do this, I’m kissing you first.”
“If that was intended to be a threat it was a poor one.”
Lestrade cursed and, taking hold of Sherlock’s coat as much as John had the last time they were there, he tugged Sherlock over and planted a rough kiss on his mouth. It was intended to be short. It wasn’t. As a matter of fact the sound of interest that Sherlock released made John frown fiercely and he started pushing them apart, “Right, right, that’s enough of that. Break it up, you two!”
Sherlock looked at Lestrade with surprised appreciation and Lestrade tugged at his collar again. He motioned Anderson over, “Come on, best get this over with.”
“I’m not going to kiss you!” Anderson said with an almost comical level of horror.
“You can bypass him if you like. The dare was that you kiss people not Anderson.” Sherlock said, eyes still lingering over Lestrade in a way that set John’s teeth on edge. Lestrade polished off the drink Sally had brought earlier and motioned for the others to let him exit the booth, talking over one shoulder as he did so, “No, no, I’ll give it a go. Soon as I get another drink. Another year older, might as well live a bit on the wild side.”
Lestrade offered to get a few fresh drinks for the others before walking away and, as he went to the bar, he would pause now and again to speak with this person or that for a few minutes and then, much to everyone’s surprise, would manage to get a kiss out of them. However almost all of these kisses were placed on hands, cheeks, and foreheads - nowhere near their mouths and John regarded Sherlock with new suspicion, “So, he doesn’t have to kiss them on the lips to complete the dare?”
“No. A kiss is not technically defined as being between two lips alone; therefore, what he is currently doing is more than acceptable.”
“Yeah, okay, but he kissed you on the mouth.”
“Curious, I’d imagine.” Sherlock said apparently oblivious to John’s indignation, “It is, in a way, unexpectedly admirable as I would have expected him to give up long before now. He is strong willed, focused…somehow I overlooked these qualities.”
Anderson let out a loud, overdramatic sound of anguish, “Why did I agree to this? Is there no end? I tell you, this is longest day of my life, of this year, of-”
“The longest day of this year was two days ago, Anderson. Not to mention it is now evening. Yet again you display your appalling idiocy.” Sherlock noted.
Anderson glared at him, “Says the man who didn’t know anything about a simple child’s game.” His face took on a gleefully evil expression, “As a matter of fact, since Lestrade actually took you up on your offer, you are now forced into answering truth questions. Therefore I’ll force you to do something you detest. Tell me something you like about me.”
“That would have to have been a dare and even then I would have declined.”
“Answer the question.”
“Nothing.” Sherlock returned briskly.
Molly nibbled on her bottom lip, “Come on, there must be something you like?”
“I can’t believe I am about to say this but I agree with him.” Sally said into her drink, eyes narrowed at Anderson and hearing this, Sherlock relented, “Well, we can’t have that. So, I suppose if I must, I shall say that I do like that you got rid of that rubbish beard.”
John was about to question why Sherlock continued to try to play both sides against the middle but instead found himself looking at Anderson appraisingly, “You had a beard?”
Anderson crossly folded his arms, “I did. I rather liked it.”
“It was dreadful.” Sherlock confirmed then looked at John to see his drawn on mustache, “Wipe that thing off your face and promise to never grow one of those.”
John’s fingers went to his upper lip and he rubbed at it, “Oh yeah, forgot it was there.”
As John went about removing his fake mustache, Sally rose to her feet and mysteriously disappeared for a few moments. She returned to the booth about the same time as Lestrade, who was now more than well acquainted with the other patrons of the pub. Everyone was occupied with their fresh drinks so it came as something of a surprise when Lestrade was motioned over by the person who was running the karaoke equipment.
He looked at Sally suspiciously and she smiled, “I told you I expected a serenade tonight. I can dare you, if necessary.”
Lestrade eyed his current pint, chugged down about half of it and then wiped at his lips, “Well, suppose this is my own fault for suggesting this the last time we were here…”
Molly looked at him dreamily, “You’re really going to sing?”
“I am and a lot better than those two, I’d imagine.” Lestrade said pointing at John and Sherlock and it was plain that the whole group hoped so - for his sake as well as their own. Lestrade went to the microphone followed by a few catcalls and whistles as well as a murmuring amongst the establishment about how it was ‘that bloke who keeps kissing people’ going up to perform.
What followed was a surprising turn of events. Lestrade sang and he was good. Actually, he was rather more than good, as his rendition of Billy Idol’s ‘Rebel Yell’ was met with uproarious applause when he finished. Molly was the loudest of all present, her enjoyment so staggering that the moment she could get her hands on him she nearly knocked him to the ground, hands groping at him, kisses close to smothering.
Everyone looked on with mixed reactions but Sherlock mutedly remarking something along the lines of how he was now ‘finding himself attracted to Lestrade’ was what really clenched the next set of events as John, envious, proposed that he and Lestrade play a match on the billiards table. The game was a riveting affair to witness because both John and Lestrade were skilled players and after a few smooth shots it was plain to see that Sherlock’s attention (and affection) was once more focused solely on John and John alone.
A few minutes into the game, whenever John went to make a shot Sherlock would lean near and whisper suggestive comments (and possibly suggestions) to him. John did his best to shrug them off even though it was obviously affecting him, each one apparently more salacious than the last. It wasn’t until close to the end of the game that Sherlock finally said something so stimulating that John came perilously close to ripping the green cloth of the table with his cue stick. He turned to Sherlock, wide eyed, “Really?”
Sherlock nodded.
John swallowed and turned to Lestrade, “I…have to step outside. Get some air.”
“I’ll join you.” Sherlock said with something that could be construed as his own version of giddiness. Both Sally and Anderson looked repulsed, Molly the exact opposite. Lestrade leered, “If you leave now I’ll consider it a forfeit.”
John frowned, looked over the table appraisingly, then raised his cue stick and took his last shot. He sank the ball and won in one quick movement. Much like Molly had reacted after Lestrade’s performance; Sherlock could not get his hands on John fast enough and was practically hauling him towards the exit. Lestrade sulked slightly, “Should have let me win, bleeding sod.”
Molly gave him a consolidating pat on the arm and they resumed their seats in the booth. They talked amicably amongst themselves until Sherlock and John returned, both breathless and flushed. Lestrade sighed, “Do I even want to know?”
John smirked, “Probably not.”
Lestrade huffed and rose to his feet though the motion was not entirely stable and John gave him a worrying glance, “Are you alright?”
“Fine, fine…had a few and now I’m going for another.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
Sherlock looked around the pub then at Lestrade, “Have you been keeping to our bargain?”
“Our bargain?”
“Yes. The dare was to kiss everyone present that you have not kissed as well as every subsequent person to arrive. Two people have just entered the front door.”
“You are aware that I could be nicked for harassment or worse?”
“You’ve had no trouble so far and I suspect that will continue.”
Lestrade looked back at John, “In answer to your question, yes, I think it very wise.”
And with that he went to get another drink. Sherlock and John resumed their seats and Molly, who had been eyeing both Sally and Anderson for quite some time, took a deep, steadying breath before turning towards Anderson, “So, um, truth or dare?”
“Are we still playing this tired game?” he asked sourly and Molly looked slightly hurt before she sat up straight, “Yes, it’s not done yet so you have to choose.”
He rolled his eyes, “Fine. Dare.”
“Oh, uh, good,” Molly started nervously playing with her hair, “Okay, well, I…I dare you to, um, tell-tell Sally why you…why you,” she swallowed and avoided his eyes, “why you ended it.”
Anderson froze and Sally finished her drink in one long pull. John scratched at the back of his head and Sherlock looked at Molly approvingly, “Well played.”
Sally got to her feet, muttering under her breath about how she needed another drink while Anderson departed the booth and headed in the direction of the restroom. Molly’s voice was watery, “Oh dear, I was just…I was trying to get them to finally…”
Sherlock stopped her, “I find myself in the unbelievable position of applauding your efforts. I never would have thought you capable of the direct approach.”
“I…I actually rather thought you were going to, but, um, you weren’t addressing it so…” Molly didn’t get to say much more because Lestrade returned and seeing both Sally and Anderson gone frowned, “What happened here?”
John explained, “Molly dared Anderson to tell Sally why he broke things off.”
Lestrade blinked, stunned, “It wasn’t Sherlock?”
Sherlock responded, “Why would I deprive myself of the amusement?”
“Amusement?”
“Yes, their discomfort was almost palatable. Besides I was waiting to see how either you or John would bring the issue to light. It was my understanding that most people do not wish to voice these issues publicly. ‘Airing dirty laundry’, is the expression.”
“Yeah, well, they refused to deal with it in private, alright?” Lestrade sighed and resumed his seat, taking a long draft of his pint before continuing, “And it’s an issue. The last case was damn near impossible to close, what with the way they act around one another.”
“But a game, Lestrade?”
He shrugged, “Worked last time. Not to mention I rather liked the idea of getting to ask you questions you probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. For example, if pressed, would you marry your,” Lestrade paused, eyeing John as he tried to think of the best way to phrase it, “colleague right now?”
John, immediately defensive, spoke before Sherlock could, “Oh come on, Lestrade! That’s…that’s ridiculous! Of course he wouldn’t…we wouldn’t…mean, first, we haven’t…not that long since…and-and it’s not even really possible to, to…and Sherlock’s not the type to, mean, ‘s all a bit overly romantic and trite and maudlin and…right, Sherlock?”
Sherlock, who had not said a word, looked at him, face seemingly devoid of emotion but John must have read something there because he licked his lips and looked downwards. Lestrade wasn’t sure at first what was happening but he started to get the distinct impression that the two were holding hands beneath the table. He chuckled and took another large sip from his drink when his attention was caught by a very attractive woman who walked towards their booth.
John’s head reared back with recognition, “Anthea?”
The woman looked at him as if she didn’t know him. John tried again, “Anthea? We’ve met before. You’re Mycroft’s assistant?”
She shook her head as if he were no more than a fly making a distracting buzzing noise and instead regarded Sherlock, “Sherlock, your brother asked me to come by as he apparently received a disturbing phone message from you.”
“Ah yes, ‘Anthea’, was it? You’re looking well. Still trying on names, I see. Last time I saw you, you were going by Milena and before that Roiya. Lestrade, a ‘hello’ kiss is required.”
One of Anthea’s eyebrows rose and Lestrade looked sheepish, “It’s…my birthday.”
John looked nonplussed, “Is that what you said to all those other people you kissed?”
This was ignored as Lestrade started to rise to kiss Anthea when Molly pulled him close, whispering into his ear, “Oh, I don’t know…I-I didn’t mind you kissing those other people before, but…she’s very pretty.”
Anthea must have overheard because she stealthily moved in and kissed Lestrade’s cheek before looking straight into Molly’s eyes, “I’m not as attractive as some.”
Molly gasped as Anthea gave her a seductive smile before drawing away, mobile at the ready, fingers prepared to tap out a message. She started to type then stopped and looked over the occupants of the booth. Her head cocked thoughtfully to one side, “May I join you?”
Sherlock answered, “Why?”
“Curiosity.”
“Spying for my brother would be more apt.”
“No spying, I promise.”
“Then he’ll be arriving shortly?”
Anthea’s lips quirked in one corner, “If you do not wish me to join you, you can simply say ‘no’.”
“Hey, it’s my party and I say the more the merrier. Have a seat.” Lestrade said companionably and patted the seat next to him. She fastidiously took it as he introduced himself, “I’m Detective Inspector Lestrade, this is Molly and I see you already know Sherlock and John.”
She looked at John again with uncertainty, “John?”
“John Watson. We’ve met before!” John stressed and she shook her head as if she couldn’t be bothered, her attention back on her phone and when she spoke next it was directed at Lestrade, “What have you all been up to this evening?”
Sherlock said ‘spy’ beneath his breath as Lestrade responded, “Drinking, talking, playing a bit of ‘truth or dare’. That’s the main reason I had to kiss you, see, Sherlock and I made an arrangement. I take all the dares and he takes all the truths.”
Anthea did not look up from her phone but her body language now indicated she was speaking to Sherlock, “Have you ever had intercourse in a public place?”
“No. You are asking for the text you are sending my brother?”
“Hmm.” Was her reply.
“With regards to the message I left him, I trust.”
Another noncommittal hum of sound. John turned to him, trying to look casual, “So, you’ve never had sex in public?”
“That was established, yes.”
“Does the idea of public sex turn you on?”
Sherlock looked at him and, after a few moments, swallowed thickly. He was about to answer when John eased towards him and whispered in his ear. Sherlock scoffed, “John! No! That’s…unsanitary…”
John continued whispering and Sherlock’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head before closing, his throat working and when John drew away Sherlock breathed out loudly through his nose, eyes opening to be only half lidded before he announced in a deep timbre, “I have to use the facilities.”
He rose from the booth and John didn’t even hesitate before quickly tossing out, ‘me too’, and following after him. Lestrade cried, “Aw, again? Really?”
He shook his head and began speaking into his drink, “Thought they would’ve gotten that out of their systems by now.”
Anthea looked at him with interest, “How so?”
Lestrade shrugged, “Earlier they went out to ‘get some air’ which I translated into heavy snogging out in some alleyway.”
Molly nodded in agreement, “They do that a lot.”
Anthea raised an eyebrow, “Do they?”
At Lestrade’s and Molly’s confirmation she grinned wickedly and turned her attention back to her mobile, texting more furiously than ever. While this was taking place Anderson, who had just exited the very same facilities John and Sherlock were now steering themselves towards, chose to finally approach Sally. She was off to one corner of the pub by herself, nursing her drink and when she saw him she asked tersely, “What do you want?”
Anderson opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again then ran a hand through his hair, “That…what Molly asked me to do, the game, Lestrade and Sherlock and…it was tactless. All of it. But it was,” he shook his head, “I can see why they did it. Tactless as it may have been, as elaborate as it may have been…I do know why and-and I think…the thing is…”
Sally’s lips quirked bitterly, “You’re having a lot of trouble with this, I see.”
Anderson exhaled a loud puff of air, “Yes.”
“Should I make it easier then?” she asked and put her drink down on a nearby table before folding her arms, “Right then, truth: why did you break things off?”
“I told you.”
She gave a humorless laugh, “No, you didn’t. You sent me a text. A short one at that, about how it would probably be best if I didn’t come around anymore and about how you were ‘talking’ with your wife and then the next thing I know you’re acting like I don’t even exist!”
“Oh, and you weren’t doing the same?”
“You started it!”
“She found out about us!” He snapped, “She found out and she…the worst part was she was so understanding about it. She told me she knew she had been distant and not just because of her job. If you remember that’s…that’s what started it between us. She was out of town constantly and you and I had so much in common and we,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “That’s not the point, the point is, she knew about us and she wasn’t angry but she was…she wants to work things out between us and I want that as well. At least I want to try.”
Neither of them said anything for a long stretch and when Sally spoke her voice was cool, “I knew what I was getting into when we started. I knew it and I knew it was a bad idea, a stupid idea, but I did it anyway.”
“Sally…”
“You’re real bastard, you know that? A twat, a prick, a cock, a…just, I may have been stupid, but you are an unbelievable bastard.”
He nodded and didn’t say anything for a while. They both stood there, quiet and sullen, the mood tense, when finally he said “Look, if there’s one thing in this world I’ve learned, there’s this - there are two kinds of bastards in this world. Bastards who know they’re bastards and bastards who know it, but try to pretend otherwise. We already know which one the freak is,” they both laughed for a moment before he continued, “but me…”
“Oh yes,” she agreed, “I know which one you are, too.”
“And you do know you can do much better than me.”
“Oh, I know that.” She returned haughtily, “My friends have been trying forever to set me up with this professor they know, said he’d be perfect for me but I said…”
She stopped, suddenly sobering as she looked at him, “You are such a bastard.”
“I know.”
“And right now I hate you. I need to hate you.”
“I understand.”
“I won’t…won’t let it get in the way of our work anymore, ‘magine that’s what this whole mess tonight is about. This whole ‘communication’ issue and I don’t want to have to have Lestrade keep stumbling through it so…I can be an adult, yeah? I am a professional, after all, but…” she trailed off and he finished for her with a lame, “Yeah.”
“We…should get back to the others.” She ducked her head and pushed some loose strands of hair behind one ear. He nodded his agreement and they returned to find that John and Sherlock were still gone and that a new face had joined them.
Lestrade explained (albeit with no shortage of awkwardness) where Sherlock and John had wandered off to and introduced Anthea, who greeted them blithely before she put away her mobile and focused her attention on Molly, “Truth or dare?”
“Oh-we’re…you…want to play? We’re still playing?” Molly asked nervously and both Sally and Anderson looked disturbed by the idea. Lestrade chose to settle the matter, “This’ll be the end of it.”
“The end of it for us.” Sally returned but with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “But not for you. I’ve got a dare in mind.”
Lestrade moaned and polished off more of his drink, “Longest night of my life…”
“I said much the same earlier.” Anderson supplied as he took back his seat. Sally followed suit, “Molly, she asked you to pick truth or dare.”
Molly wiggled in her seat, “Okay. Um, Truth?”
Anthea looked like the cat that ate the canary, “What is your wildest sexual fantasy?”
Molly’s face flamed but she dutifully began to detail her fantasy. Along with helpful hand motions. Everyone was completely floored. Molly begged them to agree that, much like Sherlock and John’s earlier karaoke performance, this would be something that they would never speak of again. Everyone reluctantly agreed.
Anthea, however, was now more taken with Molly than ever and upon uncovering her love of both ‘Glee’ and karaoke coaxed her into performing a song. Molly only agreed under the stipulation that Anthea join her. Amazingly Anthea agreed, her voice a warm purr about how she loved the idea of them ‘partnering up’. Sally was also invited but she declined as Lestrade, who had lost count of how many drinks he had consumed, was now soused enough to agree to her dare - which was to put full make up on him.
So, it was while Anthea and Molly were singing Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ and Sally was finishing Lestrade’s lipstick that Mycroft arrived. He entered with a prudent air about him, eyeing the pub dubiously and when he caught sight of Anthea singing his face was close to priceless. Her face, upon seeing his, was also a sight to behold.
Still she managed to finish the song and both she and Molly were met with favorable applause from the majority of the pub. Anthea walked over to meet him and brought him over to the booth, “This is Mycroft Holmes and this is-”
“Yes, I know who each of them are.” Mycroft assured her, brushing at an imaginary speck of dust on his suit. Lestrade, recognizing that a new person was in their midst, lunged to his feet towards him, “Ah, righ’ righ’, c’mere!” and with that grabbed Mycroft by the tie and tugged him over for a rather sloppy kiss, hands roaming through his hair unchecked.
Everyone looked on with a variety of reactions, though the overall consensus was abject horror, as Lestrade was pretty much mauling the man. When Lestrade finally deigned to let him go Mycroft’s hair was a mess, his tie and shirt rumpled and his face smeared with makeup. Mycroft cleared his throat, “Please excuse me. It would appear that I now need to freshen up.”
He turned and left while Lestrade, who had collapsed back into the booth and was now being tended to by Molly, mumbled, “Holmes brothers…good kissers the lot of ‘em…”
“Think it might be best to get you home and into bed.” Molly cooed as she found a napkin and proceeded to wipe away Sally’s hard work when a thought occurred to her, “Oh no! Shouldn’t we stop him? Mr. Holmes, I mean! Sherlock and John are still,” she flapped her hands as if to explain, “I-I doubt he wants to find his brother, um-”
“What does it matter? Serve the freak right,” Sally chuckled, not only because of this idea but because she had had the foresight to take a picture of Lestrade in full make up with her mobile and was eyeing it now, “’Sides, I’m sure he knows.”
“He doesn’t.” Anthea said easily and everyone looked at her with surprise as she continued, “I have been monitoring Sherlock and,” she paused a moment, once again unable to remember John’s name, “his companion for some time and I may have…edited some of the information.”
“Why on earth would you do that?” Molly asked.
Anthea smiled, “A variety of reasons. Let us simply think of it as something of an April Fool’s joke.”
“’S nowhere near April…” Lestrade drawled.
Mycroft returned, once more in pristine condition, and spoke directly to Anthea though he was easily overheard by the others, “There appear to be two men fornicating in the facilities. Thankfully there was a mirror nearby that I was able to use. I do question what kind of establishment this is, as well as why you summoned me here.”
Anthea did not get a chance to answer because both John and Sherlock approached. They both looked relatively as they had before they had left but Mycroft, much like Sherlock, was possessed of keen observational skill and, upon seeing them, paled considerably.
He turned to Anthea, “I’m leaving.”
Anthea did a poor job of concealing her laughter before she offered her own good-byes to the group and followed after him. John watched them go with some concern before turning to Molly, “That was… Mycroft was here? Why was he here? Why did he leave?”
Molly shrugged, “Long story.”
John turned to Sherlock who, having quickly put the pieces together, sighed, “Interesting. Well, I am rather exhausted-”
“Jus’ bet you are.” Lestrade tossed out.
Sherlock went on as if uninterrupted, “John, I will fetch us a cab while you make the necessary farewells.”
Sherlock exited and John turned to the group, “Ah, yes, well, um…Lestrade, hope you had a happy birthday. Sally, Molly…always a pleasure. Anderson. Night.” He nodded to each of them in turn before following after Sherlock.
Molly turned to Sally as she started to struggle to get Lestrade to his feet, “Can you help me?”
Sally took hold of Lestrade’s hands and pulled him to his feet while Molly pushed him from behind. Lestrade would have collapsed fully on Sally and most likely knocked her to the floor if Anderson hadn’t intervened. He looped one of Lestrade’s arms around him and Sally did much the same with the other so that both of them were propping him up. Lestrade, somewhat conscious, looked from one to the other, “You two better, then?”
Sally looked at Anderson and he looked back her. Sally answered, “No…but we’re getting there.”
“Tha’s good,” Lestrade slurred, then, “Got taste in m’ mouth…’s like cin’mon…”
“Mycroft, I’d imagine.” Molly offered and Lestrade gave her a lopsided smile, “Kissed folks t’night…but you still kiss th’ best…”
Molly beamed, “I love you, Greg Legs.”
“Same t’ you, Molly Wobbles.” He chuckled and both Sally and Anderson shared a glance before Anderson said, “If this keeps up I’m going to be sick and I barely drank a drop.”
“Come on, let’s go.” Sally said and she and Anderson proceeded to take Lestrade out, Molly trailing behind them. Once more it appeared as if another successful evening at the pub had taken place. However, much like the previous pub night, ramifications spun from this evening, the majority of which came to head on a very particular day in the future.
And that day was April Fool’s Day.
Type of work: Fic
Category: Gen
Title: Pub Night II: The Return of Pub Night
Prompt(s) used: Any; the longest day of the year
Rating: R
Word count: 8,987
Warnings: alcohol, mentions of sex, language, humor - yes, humor!
Notes/Acknowledgments: This is a sequel. I intended it to be something you could read separate but I am afraid it will probably make more sense if you read the first Pub Night! Keep your eyes peeled for a joke plucked straight from ‘Community’ (though I assure you all the rest are my own) and feel free to suspend your disbelief at a pub that has far too many facets of fun to be real. Not beta or brit!picked and pretty damned crackish.
“Why on earth did I agree to this again?”
“You agreed because we still have communication problems.” Lestrade told Anderson firmly but then softened the blow with a smile that bordered on cheeky, “And it’s my birthday!”
Lestrade and Anderson sat in the same booth of the pub that they had sat in the last time they had all been gathered together. All of them being Lestrade, Anderson, Sally, John and Sherlock (with the late addition of one Molly Hooper). The exact same group was meeting once again this very evening and Anderson, being the first to arrive, looked exceedingly uncomfortable, “I don’t see why these…issues…couldn’t have been discussed in a more civilized place.”
Lestrade shrugged, “Worked well enough last time.”
Anderson scoffed at the very idea and Lestrade shook his head, “No, really. We’ve all worked a bit more cohesively since Saint Patrick’s Day. Sure, there have been some - ah - alterations in…relationships since then, but overall I’d say that things have improved. Or at least, they had improved until, well,” Lestrade paused and cleared his throat, avoiding Anderson’s eyes, “some of those relationships went, uh, south.”
Something in Anderon’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say a word. Instead he eyed the entrance to the pub and shifted where he sat, “So…she is coming then?”
Lestrade nodded, “Yes. She is.”
Anderson let out a heavy breath, “I don’t think this is…”
His words died off as Sally entered. She scanned the entirety of the pub then, seeing Lestrade and Anderson, she threw back her shoulders and walked over, head held high and when she approached them she spoke directly to Lestrade first, voice warm, “Evening, sir, happy birthday!”
“Thank you, Sally.”
She then regarded Anderson and her voice dipped several degrees, “Hello.”
“Sally…” Anderson started but she cut him off, eyes back on Lestrade, returning to her friendlier persona, “Any good gifts so far?”
“None yet, save for O’Donnell and Dimmock vowing to keep on top of things again so that I can enjoy an evening off. Both of ‘em gave me a little pocket change, told me to take a drink in their stead.”
Sally grinned and bobbed her head, “As well they should. I imagine I’ll do very much the same. Couldn’t think of a proper gift for you past a pint.”
Lestrade chuckled and polished off his current drink, “Wonder what that says about me.”
“Well, I may have arranged one special surprise for you.”
“Oh?”
Sally beamed, “Got O’Donnell’s sister, the lady that runs this pub, to get some bloke to set up karaoke tonight.”
Lestrade burst out laughing, “No, you didn’t!”
“Oh yes, and I very much look forward to your serenade as does someone else I brought with me.”
Molly walked over looking quite bashful as she approached the table, “Hi, sorry, would have been here earlier but I had to pay the cabbie.”
Sally rolled her eyes, “I offered but she can be surprisingly stubborn.”
Lestrade rose to his feet and approached Molly, putting his hands gently on her shoulders, “Yeah, that’s my girl.”
Molly blushed before she gave him a quick kiss, “Happy birthday.”
“Is that your idea of a birthday kiss, Molly-Wobbles?” he asked against her hair as he drew her closer and she gently batted at him, “Don’t call me that! Not-not in front of your friends!”
“Hey! I resent that! I’m your friend too, Molly.” Sally chuckled. Molly ducked her head, “Yes, yes, sorry, right.”
“And what I am?” Anderson asked. Sally’s eyes shot daggers at him, “A parasite.”
Anderson was about to object when Lestrade drew away from Molly, “Ah, yes, now, see…this is what we need to talk about tonight. There’s this…issue between the two of you that has been interfering with our teamwork as a whole and communication is, in many ways, the backbone of our jobs.”
Sally shook her head, “Lord, I need a drink before you start going off on one of your lectures.”
“My…I-I don’t lecture!” Lestrade objected after her as she stalked off towards the bar but Molly, looking slightly chagrined, spoke up, “Oh, well, see…you-you kind of do. Give lectures, I mean. Not that I don’t find them lovely! Honestly! I find them endearing! But, you can…you know…go on a bit.”
Lestrade looked flummoxed, “Molly, what…how can you-?”
“You’ve…made them to me once or twice. You know, ‘bout leaving my stockings hung up in your shower or how you need to sleep on your side of the bed.”
“I’ve always slept on the left! It’s just…” Lestrade waved it off, “Never mind, never mind. She can have her drink.”
“Mm, think I’ll get one too, actually.” Molly said and gave Anderson a pitying look, “Um…do you want one as well? I can get it for you?”
“No, thank you.” Anderson sighed and his eyes drifted to Sally. She stood at the bar, drink in hand, laughing at something the man behind the counter said before she turned and caught him looking at her. Her gaze became glacial. Anderson looked away, instead turning his attention back to Lestrade, “Please tell me he’s not coming.”
“Who? Sherlock? Of course he’s coming.” Lestrade said as if Anderson should really know better, “He and John both.”
Anderson let out a sound of disgust, “Why?”
“Again, my birthday! I wanted them to come. John, in particular. Owes me a couple of quid on that last Manchester United game. Surprised he isn’t here, as a matter of fact. Should’ve shown up over ten minutes ago. Not like him to be late. Same for Sherlock. Though, I suppose, not being a murder Sherlock could be taking his time. But, again, John would have made sure that they - ah! Wait! Speak of the devil! There they are!” Lestrade said, his eyes picking them out as they walked through the front door and he motioned them over.
Anderson groaned, eyes on the ceiling, “Great. First you and Molly, now them. And they’re a million times worse, the love birds.”
Lestrade started to refute that but then thought better of it. After all, Anderson was right. It was a not-so-well-kept-secret that the world’s only consulting detective and his flatmate, the ex-army doctor, had finally moved well beyond friendship and into a vastly more intimate relationship. Lestrade himself had been witness to their very first kiss - as had Sally, Anderson, and Molly.
From there things had become interesting to say the least. There had long been much speculation and heated debate at the Yard as to how such a relationship would progress between the two fellows. The idea of kinky bedroom antics (Whips! Chains! Ropes!) were tossed about as well as the belief that no such relationship could be healthy much lessnormal. It was highly believed that, should such a thing ever happen between the two, it would not last long and indeed be engulfed in the hot flames of failure.
And then instead, much to everyone’s surprise, the unexpected happened.
Sherlock and John were in a relationship and they were happy. Blissfully so. Or, as defined by almost the entirety of the Yard, nauseatingly so. Oh, Sherlock was still Sherlock. He swooped down on crime scenes with the same biting remarks, brilliant observations, and little regard for others as always. And John was still John, following after him dutifully, offering gentle excuses and apologies, giving amiable assistance when needed and keeping his eyes out for any trouble.
But there were these moments now. Moments when they’d be caught standing too close together, hands casually lingering over shoulders and elbows, heads bowed near one another so they could surreptitiously whisper, giggle, lips covertly brushing ears.
And then there were the telltale glances, the moments where they would sneak off to do god-knows-what before returning to the scene of the crime slightly flushed and breathless, and then, worst of all, the occasional comment from one to the other that bordered on what had to be their version of sugar-coated compliments or, lord help them all, endearments.
It wouldn’t have even been so bad save for the fact that it happened all the time. Every crime scene, as a matter of fact, and yes, it did off set the brutality of some cases but that didn’t make it any less off putting. Or gag worthy.
The fact that they were so blantly head over heels for one another was oftentimes a bit too much. Even more so now to Anderson as they approached and he caught sight of them. He was unable to keep himself from sneering, “And what are you two on about?”
John’s head titled to one side, “Don’t know what you mean?”
“You’re both glowing!”
“Are we?” John asked innocently and Sherlock’s face kept twitching as if he was trying to fight off a smile. Anderson, undeterred, continued, “Yes! And why were you so late? Not that I care, but…”
Lestrade frowned; eyes narrowed as he looked from John to Sherlock and then back again. Suddenly his head reared back, “Christ! I don’t even have to be an observational genius to know you two were shagging before you came here!”
Sherlock lost the fight with the smile on his face and it blossomed, large and almost frightening in its intensity, “Correct. Very well done, Detective Lestrade! You see, John can be quite…”
“Ah! Stop! Stop! I’m begging you! ‘S my birthday, alright!” Lestrade pleaded, hands raised in surrender and even John looked a little uncomfortable as he muttered, “Sherlock, remember our discussion about discretion?”
Sherlock scowled, “Why do you persist on making me repeat myself? I’ve told you subterfuge is idiotic. Everyone already knows.”
“And I’ve told you, discretion is not to be underrated.” John patted Sherlock’s elbow in a way that Lestrade had come to decipher as his way of giving Sherlock the equivalent of a peck on the lips before whispering something in his ear that he couldn’t quite catch save for a bit that sounded like ‘convince you again?’ and Sherlock’s pale complexion took on a little colour.
Yes, Anderson had well and truly nailed it, love birds indeed. He eyed the package Sherlock held and brightened considerably, “Did you bring me a present?”
“Ah, yes,” Sherlock handed the package to Lestrade, “There was some argument about this. John insisted that gift giving is an important, if not essential, part of this ridiculous social ritual. I objected but he,” Sherlock paused and the frightening smile from before returned in full force, “convinced me otherwise.”
Lestrade now held the gift gingerly, “This-this isn’t anything…untoward is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Lestrade looked it over suspiciously, shook it near his ear then, shrugging, ripped the wrapping off and opened the package. He peered inside and his eyebrows rose, “These are…badges…wait, hang on - these are my badges!”
Lestrade turned the package upside down and several badges spilled out on to the table. Sherlock nodded, “John told me the best gifts are personal.”
“Personal how? In that they’re already mine?” Lestrade muttered as he dug through the collection, “Always wondered how I could possibly lose these…knew I wasn’t that forgetful…”
“Not forgetful, no, merely unobservant.” Sherlock offered, “But then, that’s always been your problem.”
“According to you that’s everyone’s problem.”
“Quite.”
Lestrade breathed out loudly through his nose and put the badges back in the box before putting it down under the table near his feet, “Frankly I think my bigger problem is the pick pocketing bastard I occasionally keep company with. Lucky for him, I’m a big fan of his bleeding flatmate.”
“That flatmate being me?” John smiled and proffered some money in his direction, “Here’s what I owe you for the bet as well as a little extra for your birthday.”
“Thanks.” Lestrade took it and tucked it away, “You getting a drink?”
“Yeah, snagging Sherlock and myself a pint. Would you like me to grab you one as well? My treat?”
Lestrade was about to answer when Molly and Sally returned, Molly holding two glasses high, “Not necessary, John. I got Greg-Legs his drink.”
Lestrade’s embarrassment was evident, “Molly…don’t-don’t call me that in front of, you know,” he waved about the group but in particular pointed in Sherlock’s direction. Molly took her seat next to him with a sigh, “You started it.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” He murmured and kissed her cheek as she came closer, taking his drink from her. Sherlock eyed them with some interest and John went off in the direction of the bar. Once John was out of sight, Sherlock turned his full attention to both Sally and Anderson, “I have, in fact, come bearing more than one gift this evening. I have something for Anderson.”
Everyone looked appropriately horrified at this very idea but Sherlock did not react, instead clicking a few buttons on his phone before presenting it to Anderson, “If you press right here…”
Anderson looked at the phone as if it would bite him. Sherlock’s eyebrows rose, the look as challenging as it was innocuous, and, not wanting to appear intimidated, Anderson snatched the device away from him and pressed the emphasized keys. A video started to play on the tiny screen, the sounds tinny and it took Anderson a few minutes to even realize what he was seeing. When he did, his mouth dropped open, “This-this is a sex tape!”
“Not just any sex tape.” Sherlock looked terribly smug as he looked in Sally’s direction, “This one has a…particular star.”
Sally took the device from Anderson’s fingers in a flash, “No! No, you couldn’t have possibly!”
The last time they had all met together they had played a very revealing game of ‘I Never’ wherein it was discovered that Sally had made a sex tape. The others had asked to view it but she had responded with an adamant ‘no’. Apparently Sherlock had ignored this.
“How did you find this!” she cried, “This was ages ago!”
“It took some searching, yes, but in this era of technological advance...”
Lestrade and Molly couldn’t help but edge towards Sally, trying to sneak peeks over her shoulder. Sally’s face was taking on a rather unhealthy shade as she tossed the phone down on the table. Sherlock turned towards Anderson and said patronizingly, “You should take comfort in this, because as you can see, she had an excellent sex life before you and she will continue to have one after you.”
Anderson looked to be in as much the same murderous state of mind as Sally and both of them seemed more than ready to advance on Sherlock when John returned with their drinks and, immediately sensing the animosity, grimaced, “What did you do?”
Sherlock gave his best innocent look, “Nothing.”
“Nothing! He found a sex tape of me!” Sally shouted, fingers clenched claws and John put the glasses down so he could pinch the bridge of his nose, “Sherlock, for heaven’s sake! That is so not-”
“Oh my god!” Molly cried out, covering her mouth and all attention turned to both her and Lestrade who now held the phone. Molly pointed at the screen, “John! That’s…what are you doing in this!”
“What? Give me that!” Sherlock snapped and he snatched the phone back from Lestrade, eyes intent on the screen. He had watched some of the film but not all of it and, sure enough, there was John on screen, standing in the now opened bedroom door watching Sally engaged in heated intercourse with some nameless fellow.
John frowned and looked at the screen as did Sally, whose anger had tempered slightly with curiosity. John looked at Sally, then at the screen, and then back again. He blinked a few times, “Ohhh…uh, huh…well, you know…when I first met you, I did think you looked awfully familiar but I couldn’t quite place where I had…” he scratched at the back of his head, looking sheepish, “Maybe because of the, ah, angles…”
She pointed at him accusingly, “You’re that bloke that came in? I thought it was one of Benny’s stupid friends!”
“Yeah, well, you were right. Sort of. I was actually Benny’s brother Mike’s friend.”
“You know Mike?”
“Yeah, went to Bart’s together.” John said and both he and Sally looked at each other with the kind of understanding that only comes between two people who have unveiled a secret bond between one another, “Boy, it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
“Who’s Benny?” Lestrade couldn’t help asking.
Sally sighed, “The guy in the video that I’m…um, well…”
Sherlock turned off the video and looked appraisingly at John, “I see when you entered the room you did not leave right away. I thought social decorum would dictate that you exit the scene immediately.”
John licked his lips, blushing, “Yeah, well, mean…it was…interesting.”
“To watch them engaged in intercourse?”
“I…I didn’t know what else to do.” He said then waved a hand at Sally, “And it’s not like they stopped!”
Sally gave him a sly grin, “It was a damn good shag. Didn’t see the point in stopping just because some perverted spectator walked in.”
“Hey, hey! I’m-I’m not…” Sally started laughing and John couldn’t help but join in and soon most of the hostility seemed to die away save for Anderson who still looked more than put out. Sherlock returned the phone to his pocket and the issue of the video was dropped in light of the need to make the appropriate seating arrangements.
Considering certain people didn’t want to be grouped together it took a while to get adjusted in the booth but soon enough Sally sat at one end with John to her left, Sherlock next to him followed by Lestrade, Molly, and finally Anderson on the other, opposite end from her. Everyone had their drinks and was well enough settled before Lestrade spoke, “I’d like to thank you all for coming this evening. Not just because it’s my birthday but because we still have some issues of communication to address and, considering the success we had when last we were gathered here, I thought it best to meet here again and, what’s more, I have decided that we are going to play a game to get the ball rolling.”
Sherlock let out an aggravated groan, “Not another insipid game!” He turned to John, “We gave him his gift! Leaving now would not be-”
“Oh no,” John interrupted smartly, “We’re staying, alright. Especially after the shenanigans you pulled with the video. No, we’re staying and we’re playing,” he flashed him a wicked grin, “Especially in light of the fact that I was the one that suggested which game we should play. We’re going to play Truth or Dare.”
Everyone in the booth but John, Lestrade, and Sherlock looked dismayed, John and Lestrade because they both thought it a brilliant idea and Sherlock because he asked, “What is Truth or Dare?” which was met with a universal groan from everyone else at the booth.
“What is-? How do you not-?” John sighed grievously and looked to Lestrade for support, “Would you explain, please?”
Lestrade chuckled, shaking his head, “Right, well, what happens is, someone will ask you ‘truth or dare?’ and you choose one. If you choose ‘truth’, then they will ask you a question and you have to answer it honestly. If you choose ‘dare’, then someone will tell you to do something and you have to do it. And, for the sake of this game and the players present, I should stress that dares should be things we can actually do here at the pub that won’t get us into any trouble. Don’t want to create any problems for O’Donnell or his sister. Especially in light of the fact that neither one of them has been quite the same since the whole adoption fiasco came to light.”
This last bit was said rather pointedly at Sherlock who merely sighed, “I have already divined the reason we are playing this absurd game and wish to see it concluded quickly. As such, I would like to start as soon as possible.”
Lestrade nodded, “Fair enough. Being my birthday, I get to go first.”
He looked about the table before settling on Molly, “Truth or Dare?”
Molly giggled nervously, “Truth.”
“Do you have a secret talent?”
Sherlock let out another groan as Molly answered, “Yes, actually I can…I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue.”
Sherlock now looked interested, “No, you can’t.”
Molly sat up and stuck her bottom lip out firmly, voice wavering only slightly, “Yes, I can.”
“No, you can’t. It is physically impossible.”
“It is not! I can do it! I would need a cherry, but-” Sally interrupted her, rising to her feet, “Hang on, I’ll get you one!” She went to the bar and came back with a cocktail, a Maraschino cherry resting inside. She slid the drink towards Lestrade and winked, “You can have that to drink too, birthday boy.”
“Why do I get the sinking suspicion that you all are trying to get me drunk?” Lestrade murmured as he looked at the collection of drinks he was acquiring. Undeterred, Molly took the cherry from the drink and stuck it in her mouth while Sherlock continued to expound upon the idea that the feat Molly was claiming she was about to perform was folly.
His rant was interrupted the moment she produced the tied stem from her mouth and, taking his hand, placed it in his open palm, “Here you go!”
Sherlock stopped talking and, blinking, picked up the stem and intensely inspected it. It was indeed in a tiny little knot. Lestrade, seeing it, beamed and hugged Molly to him, “Again, that’s my girl.”
Molly giggled and looking at John asked, “Truth or Dare?”
“Oh, me? Alright, well, how about…dare?”
“Let me draw a mustache on you!” Molly said reaching into her purse and drawing out her eyeliner pen. John laughed, “What? Why?”
“It’ll be fun! Bet you’d look great with one!” She said and John shook his head, chuckling, “Okay, sure, why not?”
Molly quickly drew it on him and everyone at the table thought it was pretty amusing save for Sherlock who was still focused on the tied cherry stem and looking at Molly with newfound interest. The game progressed reasonably after that.
There were a variety of truths and a variety of dares, most often bland, though a few were noteworthy. Sally had to carry Molly piggyback about the pub for a stretch before confessing that if she had to make out with anyone in the room it would be John (to which Sherlock looked extremely livid) and Anderson was forced into agreeing to say ‘I love pink leather’ after everything that he said for at least five minutes. However, nothing was as entertaining as the feats Sherlock would perform as he resolved to only chose the dare option.
He left an obscene phone message for his brother (breathy orgasm sounds that made everyone in the booth shift in their seats), let Sally slap him (she announced that it was not the first time nor the last time but it felt damn satisfying and made up a little for his showing everyone the video), and had been the first to perform once karaoke was set up (a duet rendition of Elton John’s ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ with John that everyone agreed to never speak of again despite Molly’s protests that it was, quote, ‘cute’).
It wasn’t until after all these had been performed that Lestrade decided he had best put a stop to it, “Sherlock, you can’t choose ‘dare’ every time. It’s not sporting. You have to pick ‘truth’ now and again.”
Sherlock sneered, “Oh truth, truth is boring.”
“Maybe but I have to admit I was surprised you didn’t chose that more often. Thought you’d find most of these dares beneath you.”
“This entire game is beneath me and it still has yet to accomplish its intended goal. If I am to be forced to play it, I shall at least play it in the way I find to be the most diverting. Frankly, I don’t understand why you have chosen this as your particular means of getting them to talk to one another. If you wish for Sally and Anderson to discuss their disastrous-”
Lestrade started coughing loudly to cut Sherlock off and received narrowed eyes for his trouble. Worried the consulting detective would continue talking he said, “Look, how about, to make things interesting you chose only truth from now on and, to even things out, I chose only dare.”
“Very well, then I dare you to kiss every single person in this pub that you have not kissed before as well as every subsequent person that arrives.”
Lestrade blanched, “What? No!”
“Fine, then this game is forfeit and has been a complete waste of time as it did not offer up the desired results.”
Lestrade looked about the table a bit hopelessly. Sally and Anderson, having overheard yet another reference to their now dissolved relationship, focused their attention on their respective drinks. John interceded, “Sherlock, Lestrade did tell you that the dares had to be something we could actually do that wouldn’t get us into any trouble.”
“It won’t get him into any trouble if he handles himself accordingly,” Sherlock sniffed, “And you’re the one who’s always trying to convince me how clever he is. If this task had been laid at my feet, I assure you, I would be able to accomplish it with no issues whatsoever.”
John looked unsure at that but, Sherlock’s point made, he turned to Lestrade and offered a shrug as if to say ‘well, I tried’. Lestrade finally looked to Molly for help, “You can’t possibly be fine with this?”
Molly giggled, “Well, you’re so handsome! I can understand why anyone would want to kiss you! Besides, I am very confident in our relationship.”
“Confident enough to let me kiss other people?”
“Long as you come home with me tonight. I still have to give you your present.”
Lestrade tugged at the collar of his shirt at that because while her voice was as sweet as always, there was a simmering heat to her eyes that belied her words. Sherlock, amused, said, “Yes, Greg-Legs, what could it hurt?”
“God,” Lestrade rubbed at his face then glared at him “Alright, but if I do this, I’m kissing you first.”
“If that was intended to be a threat it was a poor one.”
Lestrade cursed and, taking hold of Sherlock’s coat as much as John had the last time they were there, he tugged Sherlock over and planted a rough kiss on his mouth. It was intended to be short. It wasn’t. As a matter of fact the sound of interest that Sherlock released made John frown fiercely and he started pushing them apart, “Right, right, that’s enough of that. Break it up, you two!”
Sherlock looked at Lestrade with surprised appreciation and Lestrade tugged at his collar again. He motioned Anderson over, “Come on, best get this over with.”
“I’m not going to kiss you!” Anderson said with an almost comical level of horror.
“You can bypass him if you like. The dare was that you kiss people not Anderson.” Sherlock said, eyes still lingering over Lestrade in a way that set John’s teeth on edge. Lestrade polished off the drink Sally had brought earlier and motioned for the others to let him exit the booth, talking over one shoulder as he did so, “No, no, I’ll give it a go. Soon as I get another drink. Another year older, might as well live a bit on the wild side.”
Lestrade offered to get a few fresh drinks for the others before walking away and, as he went to the bar, he would pause now and again to speak with this person or that for a few minutes and then, much to everyone’s surprise, would manage to get a kiss out of them. However almost all of these kisses were placed on hands, cheeks, and foreheads - nowhere near their mouths and John regarded Sherlock with new suspicion, “So, he doesn’t have to kiss them on the lips to complete the dare?”
“No. A kiss is not technically defined as being between two lips alone; therefore, what he is currently doing is more than acceptable.”
“Yeah, okay, but he kissed you on the mouth.”
“Curious, I’d imagine.” Sherlock said apparently oblivious to John’s indignation, “It is, in a way, unexpectedly admirable as I would have expected him to give up long before now. He is strong willed, focused…somehow I overlooked these qualities.”
Anderson let out a loud, overdramatic sound of anguish, “Why did I agree to this? Is there no end? I tell you, this is longest day of my life, of this year, of-”
“The longest day of this year was two days ago, Anderson. Not to mention it is now evening. Yet again you display your appalling idiocy.” Sherlock noted.
Anderson glared at him, “Says the man who didn’t know anything about a simple child’s game.” His face took on a gleefully evil expression, “As a matter of fact, since Lestrade actually took you up on your offer, you are now forced into answering truth questions. Therefore I’ll force you to do something you detest. Tell me something you like about me.”
“That would have to have been a dare and even then I would have declined.”
“Answer the question.”
“Nothing.” Sherlock returned briskly.
Molly nibbled on her bottom lip, “Come on, there must be something you like?”
“I can’t believe I am about to say this but I agree with him.” Sally said into her drink, eyes narrowed at Anderson and hearing this, Sherlock relented, “Well, we can’t have that. So, I suppose if I must, I shall say that I do like that you got rid of that rubbish beard.”
John was about to question why Sherlock continued to try to play both sides against the middle but instead found himself looking at Anderson appraisingly, “You had a beard?”
Anderson crossly folded his arms, “I did. I rather liked it.”
“It was dreadful.” Sherlock confirmed then looked at John to see his drawn on mustache, “Wipe that thing off your face and promise to never grow one of those.”
John’s fingers went to his upper lip and he rubbed at it, “Oh yeah, forgot it was there.”
As John went about removing his fake mustache, Sally rose to her feet and mysteriously disappeared for a few moments. She returned to the booth about the same time as Lestrade, who was now more than well acquainted with the other patrons of the pub. Everyone was occupied with their fresh drinks so it came as something of a surprise when Lestrade was motioned over by the person who was running the karaoke equipment.
He looked at Sally suspiciously and she smiled, “I told you I expected a serenade tonight. I can dare you, if necessary.”
Lestrade eyed his current pint, chugged down about half of it and then wiped at his lips, “Well, suppose this is my own fault for suggesting this the last time we were here…”
Molly looked at him dreamily, “You’re really going to sing?”
“I am and a lot better than those two, I’d imagine.” Lestrade said pointing at John and Sherlock and it was plain that the whole group hoped so - for his sake as well as their own. Lestrade went to the microphone followed by a few catcalls and whistles as well as a murmuring amongst the establishment about how it was ‘that bloke who keeps kissing people’ going up to perform.
What followed was a surprising turn of events. Lestrade sang and he was good. Actually, he was rather more than good, as his rendition of Billy Idol’s ‘Rebel Yell’ was met with uproarious applause when he finished. Molly was the loudest of all present, her enjoyment so staggering that the moment she could get her hands on him she nearly knocked him to the ground, hands groping at him, kisses close to smothering.
Everyone looked on with mixed reactions but Sherlock mutedly remarking something along the lines of how he was now ‘finding himself attracted to Lestrade’ was what really clenched the next set of events as John, envious, proposed that he and Lestrade play a match on the billiards table. The game was a riveting affair to witness because both John and Lestrade were skilled players and after a few smooth shots it was plain to see that Sherlock’s attention (and affection) was once more focused solely on John and John alone.
A few minutes into the game, whenever John went to make a shot Sherlock would lean near and whisper suggestive comments (and possibly suggestions) to him. John did his best to shrug them off even though it was obviously affecting him, each one apparently more salacious than the last. It wasn’t until close to the end of the game that Sherlock finally said something so stimulating that John came perilously close to ripping the green cloth of the table with his cue stick. He turned to Sherlock, wide eyed, “Really?”
Sherlock nodded.
John swallowed and turned to Lestrade, “I…have to step outside. Get some air.”
“I’ll join you.” Sherlock said with something that could be construed as his own version of giddiness. Both Sally and Anderson looked repulsed, Molly the exact opposite. Lestrade leered, “If you leave now I’ll consider it a forfeit.”
John frowned, looked over the table appraisingly, then raised his cue stick and took his last shot. He sank the ball and won in one quick movement. Much like Molly had reacted after Lestrade’s performance; Sherlock could not get his hands on John fast enough and was practically hauling him towards the exit. Lestrade sulked slightly, “Should have let me win, bleeding sod.”
Molly gave him a consolidating pat on the arm and they resumed their seats in the booth. They talked amicably amongst themselves until Sherlock and John returned, both breathless and flushed. Lestrade sighed, “Do I even want to know?”
John smirked, “Probably not.”
Lestrade huffed and rose to his feet though the motion was not entirely stable and John gave him a worrying glance, “Are you alright?”
“Fine, fine…had a few and now I’m going for another.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
Sherlock looked around the pub then at Lestrade, “Have you been keeping to our bargain?”
“Our bargain?”
“Yes. The dare was to kiss everyone present that you have not kissed as well as every subsequent person to arrive. Two people have just entered the front door.”
“You are aware that I could be nicked for harassment or worse?”
“You’ve had no trouble so far and I suspect that will continue.”
Lestrade looked back at John, “In answer to your question, yes, I think it very wise.”
And with that he went to get another drink. Sherlock and John resumed their seats and Molly, who had been eyeing both Sally and Anderson for quite some time, took a deep, steadying breath before turning towards Anderson, “So, um, truth or dare?”
“Are we still playing this tired game?” he asked sourly and Molly looked slightly hurt before she sat up straight, “Yes, it’s not done yet so you have to choose.”
He rolled his eyes, “Fine. Dare.”
“Oh, uh, good,” Molly started nervously playing with her hair, “Okay, well, I…I dare you to, um, tell-tell Sally why you…why you,” she swallowed and avoided his eyes, “why you ended it.”
Anderson froze and Sally finished her drink in one long pull. John scratched at the back of his head and Sherlock looked at Molly approvingly, “Well played.”
Sally got to her feet, muttering under her breath about how she needed another drink while Anderson departed the booth and headed in the direction of the restroom. Molly’s voice was watery, “Oh dear, I was just…I was trying to get them to finally…”
Sherlock stopped her, “I find myself in the unbelievable position of applauding your efforts. I never would have thought you capable of the direct approach.”
“I…I actually rather thought you were going to, but, um, you weren’t addressing it so…” Molly didn’t get to say much more because Lestrade returned and seeing both Sally and Anderson gone frowned, “What happened here?”
John explained, “Molly dared Anderson to tell Sally why he broke things off.”
Lestrade blinked, stunned, “It wasn’t Sherlock?”
Sherlock responded, “Why would I deprive myself of the amusement?”
“Amusement?”
“Yes, their discomfort was almost palatable. Besides I was waiting to see how either you or John would bring the issue to light. It was my understanding that most people do not wish to voice these issues publicly. ‘Airing dirty laundry’, is the expression.”
“Yeah, well, they refused to deal with it in private, alright?” Lestrade sighed and resumed his seat, taking a long draft of his pint before continuing, “And it’s an issue. The last case was damn near impossible to close, what with the way they act around one another.”
“But a game, Lestrade?”
He shrugged, “Worked last time. Not to mention I rather liked the idea of getting to ask you questions you probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. For example, if pressed, would you marry your,” Lestrade paused, eyeing John as he tried to think of the best way to phrase it, “colleague right now?”
John, immediately defensive, spoke before Sherlock could, “Oh come on, Lestrade! That’s…that’s ridiculous! Of course he wouldn’t…we wouldn’t…mean, first, we haven’t…not that long since…and-and it’s not even really possible to, to…and Sherlock’s not the type to, mean, ‘s all a bit overly romantic and trite and maudlin and…right, Sherlock?”
Sherlock, who had not said a word, looked at him, face seemingly devoid of emotion but John must have read something there because he licked his lips and looked downwards. Lestrade wasn’t sure at first what was happening but he started to get the distinct impression that the two were holding hands beneath the table. He chuckled and took another large sip from his drink when his attention was caught by a very attractive woman who walked towards their booth.
John’s head reared back with recognition, “Anthea?”
The woman looked at him as if she didn’t know him. John tried again, “Anthea? We’ve met before. You’re Mycroft’s assistant?”
She shook her head as if he were no more than a fly making a distracting buzzing noise and instead regarded Sherlock, “Sherlock, your brother asked me to come by as he apparently received a disturbing phone message from you.”
“Ah yes, ‘Anthea’, was it? You’re looking well. Still trying on names, I see. Last time I saw you, you were going by Milena and before that Roiya. Lestrade, a ‘hello’ kiss is required.”
One of Anthea’s eyebrows rose and Lestrade looked sheepish, “It’s…my birthday.”
John looked nonplussed, “Is that what you said to all those other people you kissed?”
This was ignored as Lestrade started to rise to kiss Anthea when Molly pulled him close, whispering into his ear, “Oh, I don’t know…I-I didn’t mind you kissing those other people before, but…she’s very pretty.”
Anthea must have overheard because she stealthily moved in and kissed Lestrade’s cheek before looking straight into Molly’s eyes, “I’m not as attractive as some.”
Molly gasped as Anthea gave her a seductive smile before drawing away, mobile at the ready, fingers prepared to tap out a message. She started to type then stopped and looked over the occupants of the booth. Her head cocked thoughtfully to one side, “May I join you?”
Sherlock answered, “Why?”
“Curiosity.”
“Spying for my brother would be more apt.”
“No spying, I promise.”
“Then he’ll be arriving shortly?”
Anthea’s lips quirked in one corner, “If you do not wish me to join you, you can simply say ‘no’.”
“Hey, it’s my party and I say the more the merrier. Have a seat.” Lestrade said companionably and patted the seat next to him. She fastidiously took it as he introduced himself, “I’m Detective Inspector Lestrade, this is Molly and I see you already know Sherlock and John.”
She looked at John again with uncertainty, “John?”
“John Watson. We’ve met before!” John stressed and she shook her head as if she couldn’t be bothered, her attention back on her phone and when she spoke next it was directed at Lestrade, “What have you all been up to this evening?”
Sherlock said ‘spy’ beneath his breath as Lestrade responded, “Drinking, talking, playing a bit of ‘truth or dare’. That’s the main reason I had to kiss you, see, Sherlock and I made an arrangement. I take all the dares and he takes all the truths.”
Anthea did not look up from her phone but her body language now indicated she was speaking to Sherlock, “Have you ever had intercourse in a public place?”
“No. You are asking for the text you are sending my brother?”
“Hmm.” Was her reply.
“With regards to the message I left him, I trust.”
Another noncommittal hum of sound. John turned to him, trying to look casual, “So, you’ve never had sex in public?”
“That was established, yes.”
“Does the idea of public sex turn you on?”
Sherlock looked at him and, after a few moments, swallowed thickly. He was about to answer when John eased towards him and whispered in his ear. Sherlock scoffed, “John! No! That’s…unsanitary…”
John continued whispering and Sherlock’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head before closing, his throat working and when John drew away Sherlock breathed out loudly through his nose, eyes opening to be only half lidded before he announced in a deep timbre, “I have to use the facilities.”
He rose from the booth and John didn’t even hesitate before quickly tossing out, ‘me too’, and following after him. Lestrade cried, “Aw, again? Really?”
He shook his head and began speaking into his drink, “Thought they would’ve gotten that out of their systems by now.”
Anthea looked at him with interest, “How so?”
Lestrade shrugged, “Earlier they went out to ‘get some air’ which I translated into heavy snogging out in some alleyway.”
Molly nodded in agreement, “They do that a lot.”
Anthea raised an eyebrow, “Do they?”
At Lestrade’s and Molly’s confirmation she grinned wickedly and turned her attention back to her mobile, texting more furiously than ever. While this was taking place Anderson, who had just exited the very same facilities John and Sherlock were now steering themselves towards, chose to finally approach Sally. She was off to one corner of the pub by herself, nursing her drink and when she saw him she asked tersely, “What do you want?”
Anderson opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again then ran a hand through his hair, “That…what Molly asked me to do, the game, Lestrade and Sherlock and…it was tactless. All of it. But it was,” he shook his head, “I can see why they did it. Tactless as it may have been, as elaborate as it may have been…I do know why and-and I think…the thing is…”
Sally’s lips quirked bitterly, “You’re having a lot of trouble with this, I see.”
Anderson exhaled a loud puff of air, “Yes.”
“Should I make it easier then?” she asked and put her drink down on a nearby table before folding her arms, “Right then, truth: why did you break things off?”
“I told you.”
She gave a humorless laugh, “No, you didn’t. You sent me a text. A short one at that, about how it would probably be best if I didn’t come around anymore and about how you were ‘talking’ with your wife and then the next thing I know you’re acting like I don’t even exist!”
“Oh, and you weren’t doing the same?”
“You started it!”
“She found out about us!” He snapped, “She found out and she…the worst part was she was so understanding about it. She told me she knew she had been distant and not just because of her job. If you remember that’s…that’s what started it between us. She was out of town constantly and you and I had so much in common and we,” he rubbed at the back of his neck, “That’s not the point, the point is, she knew about us and she wasn’t angry but she was…she wants to work things out between us and I want that as well. At least I want to try.”
Neither of them said anything for a long stretch and when Sally spoke her voice was cool, “I knew what I was getting into when we started. I knew it and I knew it was a bad idea, a stupid idea, but I did it anyway.”
“Sally…”
“You’re real bastard, you know that? A twat, a prick, a cock, a…just, I may have been stupid, but you are an unbelievable bastard.”
He nodded and didn’t say anything for a while. They both stood there, quiet and sullen, the mood tense, when finally he said “Look, if there’s one thing in this world I’ve learned, there’s this - there are two kinds of bastards in this world. Bastards who know they’re bastards and bastards who know it, but try to pretend otherwise. We already know which one the freak is,” they both laughed for a moment before he continued, “but me…”
“Oh yes,” she agreed, “I know which one you are, too.”
“And you do know you can do much better than me.”
“Oh, I know that.” She returned haughtily, “My friends have been trying forever to set me up with this professor they know, said he’d be perfect for me but I said…”
She stopped, suddenly sobering as she looked at him, “You are such a bastard.”
“I know.”
“And right now I hate you. I need to hate you.”
“I understand.”
“I won’t…won’t let it get in the way of our work anymore, ‘magine that’s what this whole mess tonight is about. This whole ‘communication’ issue and I don’t want to have to have Lestrade keep stumbling through it so…I can be an adult, yeah? I am a professional, after all, but…” she trailed off and he finished for her with a lame, “Yeah.”
“We…should get back to the others.” She ducked her head and pushed some loose strands of hair behind one ear. He nodded his agreement and they returned to find that John and Sherlock were still gone and that a new face had joined them.
Lestrade explained (albeit with no shortage of awkwardness) where Sherlock and John had wandered off to and introduced Anthea, who greeted them blithely before she put away her mobile and focused her attention on Molly, “Truth or dare?”
“Oh-we’re…you…want to play? We’re still playing?” Molly asked nervously and both Sally and Anderson looked disturbed by the idea. Lestrade chose to settle the matter, “This’ll be the end of it.”
“The end of it for us.” Sally returned but with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “But not for you. I’ve got a dare in mind.”
Lestrade moaned and polished off more of his drink, “Longest night of my life…”
“I said much the same earlier.” Anderson supplied as he took back his seat. Sally followed suit, “Molly, she asked you to pick truth or dare.”
Molly wiggled in her seat, “Okay. Um, Truth?”
Anthea looked like the cat that ate the canary, “What is your wildest sexual fantasy?”
Molly’s face flamed but she dutifully began to detail her fantasy. Along with helpful hand motions. Everyone was completely floored. Molly begged them to agree that, much like Sherlock and John’s earlier karaoke performance, this would be something that they would never speak of again. Everyone reluctantly agreed.
Anthea, however, was now more taken with Molly than ever and upon uncovering her love of both ‘Glee’ and karaoke coaxed her into performing a song. Molly only agreed under the stipulation that Anthea join her. Amazingly Anthea agreed, her voice a warm purr about how she loved the idea of them ‘partnering up’. Sally was also invited but she declined as Lestrade, who had lost count of how many drinks he had consumed, was now soused enough to agree to her dare - which was to put full make up on him.
So, it was while Anthea and Molly were singing Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ and Sally was finishing Lestrade’s lipstick that Mycroft arrived. He entered with a prudent air about him, eyeing the pub dubiously and when he caught sight of Anthea singing his face was close to priceless. Her face, upon seeing his, was also a sight to behold.
Still she managed to finish the song and both she and Molly were met with favorable applause from the majority of the pub. Anthea walked over to meet him and brought him over to the booth, “This is Mycroft Holmes and this is-”
“Yes, I know who each of them are.” Mycroft assured her, brushing at an imaginary speck of dust on his suit. Lestrade, recognizing that a new person was in their midst, lunged to his feet towards him, “Ah, righ’ righ’, c’mere!” and with that grabbed Mycroft by the tie and tugged him over for a rather sloppy kiss, hands roaming through his hair unchecked.
Everyone looked on with a variety of reactions, though the overall consensus was abject horror, as Lestrade was pretty much mauling the man. When Lestrade finally deigned to let him go Mycroft’s hair was a mess, his tie and shirt rumpled and his face smeared with makeup. Mycroft cleared his throat, “Please excuse me. It would appear that I now need to freshen up.”
He turned and left while Lestrade, who had collapsed back into the booth and was now being tended to by Molly, mumbled, “Holmes brothers…good kissers the lot of ‘em…”
“Think it might be best to get you home and into bed.” Molly cooed as she found a napkin and proceeded to wipe away Sally’s hard work when a thought occurred to her, “Oh no! Shouldn’t we stop him? Mr. Holmes, I mean! Sherlock and John are still,” she flapped her hands as if to explain, “I-I doubt he wants to find his brother, um-”
“What does it matter? Serve the freak right,” Sally chuckled, not only because of this idea but because she had had the foresight to take a picture of Lestrade in full make up with her mobile and was eyeing it now, “’Sides, I’m sure he knows.”
“He doesn’t.” Anthea said easily and everyone looked at her with surprise as she continued, “I have been monitoring Sherlock and,” she paused a moment, once again unable to remember John’s name, “his companion for some time and I may have…edited some of the information.”
“Why on earth would you do that?” Molly asked.
Anthea smiled, “A variety of reasons. Let us simply think of it as something of an April Fool’s joke.”
“’S nowhere near April…” Lestrade drawled.
Mycroft returned, once more in pristine condition, and spoke directly to Anthea though he was easily overheard by the others, “There appear to be two men fornicating in the facilities. Thankfully there was a mirror nearby that I was able to use. I do question what kind of establishment this is, as well as why you summoned me here.”
Anthea did not get a chance to answer because both John and Sherlock approached. They both looked relatively as they had before they had left but Mycroft, much like Sherlock, was possessed of keen observational skill and, upon seeing them, paled considerably.
He turned to Anthea, “I’m leaving.”
Anthea did a poor job of concealing her laughter before she offered her own good-byes to the group and followed after him. John watched them go with some concern before turning to Molly, “That was… Mycroft was here? Why was he here? Why did he leave?”
Molly shrugged, “Long story.”
John turned to Sherlock who, having quickly put the pieces together, sighed, “Interesting. Well, I am rather exhausted-”
“Jus’ bet you are.” Lestrade tossed out.
Sherlock went on as if uninterrupted, “John, I will fetch us a cab while you make the necessary farewells.”
Sherlock exited and John turned to the group, “Ah, yes, well, um…Lestrade, hope you had a happy birthday. Sally, Molly…always a pleasure. Anderson. Night.” He nodded to each of them in turn before following after Sherlock.
Molly turned to Sally as she started to struggle to get Lestrade to his feet, “Can you help me?”
Sally took hold of Lestrade’s hands and pulled him to his feet while Molly pushed him from behind. Lestrade would have collapsed fully on Sally and most likely knocked her to the floor if Anderson hadn’t intervened. He looped one of Lestrade’s arms around him and Sally did much the same with the other so that both of them were propping him up. Lestrade, somewhat conscious, looked from one to the other, “You two better, then?”
Sally looked at Anderson and he looked back her. Sally answered, “No…but we’re getting there.”
“Tha’s good,” Lestrade slurred, then, “Got taste in m’ mouth…’s like cin’mon…”
“Mycroft, I’d imagine.” Molly offered and Lestrade gave her a lopsided smile, “Kissed folks t’night…but you still kiss th’ best…”
Molly beamed, “I love you, Greg Legs.”
“Same t’ you, Molly Wobbles.” He chuckled and both Sally and Anderson shared a glance before Anderson said, “If this keeps up I’m going to be sick and I barely drank a drop.”
“Come on, let’s go.” Sally said and she and Anderson proceeded to take Lestrade out, Molly trailing behind them. Once more it appeared as if another successful evening at the pub had taken place. However, much like the previous pub night, ramifications spun from this evening, the majority of which came to head on a very particular day in the future.
And that day was April Fool’s Day.