"So, that's why you refuse my offers. Quaint, that. Old-fashioned. It can't be because you don't know me well enough... is it because we were friends, flatmates, and that would make it somehow awkward?"

"John. I'm not going to take advantage of the situation we find ourselves in at the moment."

John smirked.

"Perhaps I should dig up the parade of girlfriends you've had as eyewitnesses. You are straight. You will get past this sense of obligation to me, and you will probably find yourself a nice blonde girl with a nice figure who is suitably domestic. Maybe she'll enjoy gong to the cinema, knitting and baking her own bread and you'll have a baby and a white picket fence in no time." That came out a bit more hostile than expected. Not good.

John's expression softened. "You're right. Of course you're right."

John broke the silence. "It doesn't need to be sexual. I mean, if you aren't comfortable with that, I could... do other things."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"I mean, I'm... it... never mind. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Go ahead. You were saying you could do other things." There was something almost endearing about John fumbling for words and Sherlock tried to look amiable. He gave John one of his best fake smiles.

"Maybe. When we get... home."

"Fine. We will discuss it then. Goodnight, John."

John gave a weak smile. "Goodnight, Sherlock."