Double Date

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"This is a really bad idea," Sherlock groaned as he held the restaurant door open for John.

"Be quiet," John muttered out of the corner of his mouth. "Greg's here, and you get on well with him. Just ignore Mycroft."

Sherlock groaned. "I can't ignore him. His fat face makes him unmissable..."

John rolled his eyes but continued anyway, working his arm though the crook of Sherlock's elbow and towards the small of his back, pushing him firmly away from the door and into the restaurant.

It was a small place, decorated with one too many sparkling chandeliers and black marble tiles that glinted under their feet. Sherlock scoured the restaurant quickly, and soon located the other couple, although it was John who made an attempt to get their attention.

Still with his hand pressed against Sherlock's back, John gently guided him towards the table, where a beaming Lestrade and a grumpy Mycroft sat.

"Evening," Mycroft nodded as they stepped over. Sherlock nodded curtly, but Greg and John were the only ones who expressed any real pleasantries.

"Have you two already ordered drinks?" John asked, glancing at the empty placemats.

"Of course they have," Sherlock spat. "Fat slob like Mycroft? He'll have already downed a bottle of wine."

John pinched Sherlock lightly where they stood, and Sherlock rubbed it in annoyance.

"At least I can drink, Sherlock." Mycroft responded. "How many glasses was it before you were paraplegic in that case with the Rubik's cube? Was it the full two?"

Both Greg and John exchanged troubled looks as Sherlock opened his mouth again.

"You know that those drinks were spiked." He growled, ignoring John's persistent kicks. "It's hardly a proper reflection of whether or not I'm a lightweight."

The argument would have gone on further if it wasn't for John steering Sherlock away.

"But we haven't eaten!" Sherlock implored, confused as to why they were leaving. John merely rolled his eyes again as they left, muttering hurried apologies to Greg and Mycroft as they went.

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