John takes his coat from the rack and slipped it over his shoulders, feeling the cool leather slid over his skin. He was wearing something outside his normal out-wear, and it didn't take Sherlock more than a couple seconds to realize the difference. Being pulled from his deep thoughts, Sherlock stood and glided over to John, moving around him and looking him over. He stopped in front of John and looked him over, hands raising to his chin.

"Sherlock?" John asked, watching his flat mate stare down at his clothes.

Sherlock snapped his attention back to John.

"You're different. But why? T-shirt, obviously going no where fancy. But you're wearing your good jacket, meaning you care about what people think of you at this place. Dark glasses even though the clouds are out and such a item isn't needed. Jeans, new, but ripped, obviously bought that way. Been worn once, no, twice. Three times now. Shirt, plain white, meant to give you a... mysterious look, am I correct, of course I am. But why would you want to look mysterious unless you were going somewhere with a tougher crowed? No gun, so obviously not a bar. Cash, one-hundred, no, one-fifty pounds in your pocket. Going gambling are we?" Sherlock said, ending with a smile.

John stood there and listened to Sherlock, mouth open slightly. He shook his head and snapped out of the trance. "There is no way you knew how much money I had on me just by-"

"Receipt, John," Sherlock said, holding up the small piece of paper. He pocketed it and continued. "I want to come."

"What?" John laughed, raising his eyebrow at Sherlock. "You? Gamble? Why?"

"No, I've never gambled," Sherlock sighed, looking at the door, annoyance crossing his facial features. "But it's boring here, theres no new cases, and I wouldn't mind trying it."

John sighed, letting the smile slip from his face. He shrugged and looked Sherlock over. "Fine, if you want to come along. I'm meeting Greg there, I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you came."

"Greg? You mean Lestrade?"

"Yes, Sherlock. His name -is- Greg."

Sherlock shrugged and reached over John for his coat. "Let's go."

"Do you have cash? They don't take a card, you know," John said as he was pushed out the door.

"I always have cash. Three-hundred pounds, to be more exact," Sherlock said as he got in the cab and John told the cabbie the directions.

"Three-hundred pounds?!" John asked in a hushed whisper. "Why so much?"

"Why not?" Sherlock shrugged and looked out the window, watching the passing cars.

John sighed and sat back in his seat. He just figured he'll never understand the man and it was best to leave it that way.

-

"Poker?! Sherlock is playing -poker-?!" Lestrade asked, spotting John in a crowed and approaching him, seeing him watching Sherlock sitting at the poker table, face expertly straight and unreadable.

His eyes were darting from face to face around the table. He was deducing they in obviously fast speeds, John was mesmerized.

"Full house," He said, laying down his cards. "You have a two of a kind. You only have one, and you have nothing at all, I'm shocked you didn't fold when it was smart to. You just lost all your money in that final raise, you should have known trying to trick everyone into folding would be a dumb move, think a little!"

The group stood as Sherlock collected his rewards. John raised an eyebrow and looked at Greg, him obviously as shocked as he felt. With Greg on his heels, John moved over to Sherlock.

"You, um, doing well there?" John asked, pointing to Sherlock's stack of chips in multiple colors that were organized in front of him.

"Yeah, this game is easy. No matter how hard any of them try, they give away what they have with the flicks of their eyes. They tend to linger on their pairs, glance across if they have a full house or higher and just get flat out nervous if they don't have a thing," Sherlock laughed, pulling a beer bottle from under the table and taking a long drink. "Too easy!"

"Sherlock, you're drinking?!" Lestrade asked, eyeing the bottle. "I didn't think you drank!"

"I don't, but this is a special night!" Sherlock beamed, shuffling the cards in his hands. "Alcohol has no effect on me, seeing it's all in the mind."

Lestrade sighed and shook his head. He called over a waitress that was walking by and ordered two more beers for John and himself. Paying the girl as she handed over the drinks, he handed one to John and sat down at the table. "Deal me in, Sherlock," he said, taking a drink from the bottle.

"You sure, Greg?" John asked, watching Sherlock deal out the cards to Lestrade and two other people who sat down. "You know you're going to lose, right?"

"Eh, we'll see," Lestrade winked at John, whose face turned bright red at the gesture. "I used to be quiet good at this game."

"If you beat Sherlock," John said, polishing off his beer in a few swift swallows. "I'll kiss you."

Sherlock glanced at John swiftly at the bet as Greg and John shook hands. They all raised the card and the game began.

"Raise," Greg said, throwing in a few chips, smirking at Sherlock. He avoided looking at his cards and instead glanced around the table.

His face was unreadable, straight and serious. The only emotion he let slip was that smirk, then his face was as hard as stone yet again. His eyes were dark and portrayed nothing in them.

Sherlock watched him closely as one matched and the other raised.

"Raise," Sherlock said, keeping his eyes trained on Greg's face, who had gone to staring at the man.

"Raise," Lestrade mirrored, throwing a few more chips in.

"Fold," The guy a couple seats down from Lestrade said, standing a leaving, beer in hand.

"Match," The other guys said, throwing in a few chips that matched Lestrade's.

"Raise," Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow, as though challenging Lestrade.

"Raise," Greg mirrored again, returning the raised eyebrow.

"Fold."

It was only Greg and Sherlock now.

"Four of a kind," Sherlock smiled, placing his cards down to show Greg, smiling broadly.

Lestrade looked up at John, who was staring at him, drinking another beer, the first two bottles he's already downed in this game alone hanging in his other hand. Lestrade winked up at him again (John blushing yet again and almost spitting out his beer) and lay down his hand.

"Straight. Flush," He said, pronouncing each word slowly and clearly with a smile.

Sherlock stared in awe as Greg threw his fists in the air, smiling widely. There were crashes of beer bottles and before Lestrade could even lower his arms, John was in his lap, kissing him deeply and cupping his face in his hands. Greg wrapped his arms around John's waist as the kiss stretched out. He ran his tongue along John's bottom lip and was pleasantly surprised when John opened his mouth to let him in.

Sherlock watched angrily as Lestrade and John made out, John grinding his hips into Lestrade. He slammed his hands down on the table and stormed out of the casino.