Jim looks away so the obvious urge to grin is not evident. The guy nods eagerly, and seems to be at a loss to frame the questions he probably doesn't even know he wants to ask. While he's floundering, his eyes on the leather, Jim loses the hilarity.

'Go away,' he says - not even that unkindly - and the guy wilts and melts away at once, muttering thanks.

'You outrageous liar, Sherlock Holmes.'

He murmurs this, his hand slipping down to cup one arse cheek and squeeze.

'Drinks, darling.'