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Captain Jack Harkness stepped out of the rain and into the small café on the corner. Shaking droplets off his coat, he glanced around the café, finding most of the tables occupied. It was warm inside - a blessing, as he felt chilled to the bone from the incessant rain. He slid past several tables, making his way to the front counter, when a couple sitting at a corner table caught his eye.
The taller of the two was fidgeting, his fingers drumming against the tabletop while he flicked through his phone. His dark brown curls brushed the edge of his coat collar, which were turned up. He had high, delicate cheekbones and a full mouth that currently formed a pout as his blue eyes focused on the screen of his mobile. A shorter man with sandy blonde hair sat across from him, nursing a cup of coffee and picking at a croissant, the crumbs dusting the front of his checked shirt. The two of them spoke in low tones, too soft for Jack to hear. There was something about the two of them that intrigued Jack. Something about the way the man with the curly hair moved, perhaps something in the eyes of the blonde man. They reminded Jack of days gone by and people he never quite stopped missing.
Jack approached the barista at the front counter and winked at her. "Afternoon, love. Three hot chocolates? Extra whipped cream?"
The barista blushed and fawned over Jack while she took his money and handed over the hot chocolates. He balanced them precariously in his arms as he approached the corner table where the two men sat.
"Sherlock, are you paying attention? I told you, your brother is getting testy about us choosing a date."
"Oh, John, must you be so tiring? Mycroft is always testy, you know that. And why is it so important that we have a wedding? Isn't it enough that we're together?"
"Our friends and family want to celebrate with us."
The taller man - Sherlock - rolled his eyes. "Yes, that sounds exactly like something I'd want. A massive party with everyone I've ever loathed attending."
"Stop it," John growled.
Hoping to break the tension, Jack snagged a spare chair from a nearby empty table and sat down in one swift motion, in front of John and Sherlock.
"Hi, boys," he said, grinning. Jack set the hot chocolates in front of John and Sherlock and sipped his, wiping a smear of whipped cream from his nose afterwards. "How's it going?"
Both John and Sherlock stared at Jack, open-mouthed and speechless. Sherlock looked severely affronted at the interruption, while John just looked confused.
"You see I was in the neighborhood," Jack drawled, "and I thought I'd stop off at my favorite café. Which is this one, if you couldn't guess. And you two caught my eye. Captain Jack Harkness, by the way."
Sherlock blinked rapidly and shifted in his seat. He cleared his throat and then finally broke the silence. "C-captain?"
"Yep. I was Captain in the Royal Air Force in 19... well, a long time ago."
"Look, it's really nice to meet you," John interrupted, "but we were kind of in the middle of a conversation here."
"Planning a wedding, I heard." Jack raised an eyebrow at John. "You two, getting married? Congratulations! How long have you been together?"
"That's, er... complicated." Sherlock said, just as John sighed and said, "That's not really any of your business."
Jack nodded and smiled even wider. "I get it, you're wondering 'who the hell's this guy and what's his problem?' Thing is, you two intrigue me. You remind me a little of a couple of friends of mine. Thought you might be as game as they were for a good time. Besides, you don't seem to be getting very far with this wedding planning. At least not from what I heard."
John and Sherlock exchanged a wary glance with each other.
"What exactly do you mean by a 'good time'?" Sherlock asked, stiffly.
"Oh, I don't know," Jack said breezily, "Dinner? Dancing? There's a club not too far from here that makes a killer drink and is always good for dancing."
This seemed to interest Sherlock. "You like dancing?"
"Sherlock!" John hissed, nudging Sherlock with his foot under the table. "What are you doing?"
"I'm simply making conversation," Sherlock replied. "You're always telling me I should be more polite to people."
"Is this really the time?" John hissed.
"Oh, please. You and I both know he's right. We're getting nowhere with the wedding planning. Why don't we just give up and let Mycroft hire that wedding planner he wanted to in the first place. The date is unimportant - I consider us married already, anyway. A piece of paper isn't going to change the fact that I plan to spend the rest of my life with you."
This left John speechless, as well as starry-eyed. He smiled at Sherlock and reached across the table to take his hand. Jack watched the exchange, grinning.
"Look at you two lovebirds! I say we should celebrate. And yes, I do like dancing. So what do you say, boys?"
"You know, I still don't quite understand who you are?" John turned to Jack, his face a mixture of frustration and curiosity.
"Consider me a friend. A new friend. Or maybe an old friend. New-old friend."
"I don't even know what that means." John said, shaking his head.
"Then why don't you come with me and find out?" Jack shot back, winking saucily at John.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Jack's flirting. "Why are you so eager to take us out dancing? What's your motivation?"
"Fun. That's all I'm here for, boys. A little bit of fun and flirting. What do you say?"
John and Sherlock shared another look between them, communicating silently for a few moments while Jack watched them. Finally, John quirked a grin at Sherlock.
"I wouldn't say no to a night out dancing with you," he said.
"I suppose it could be enjoyable," Sherlock mused.
"So that's a yes?" Jack stood up, holding out a hand to each of them.
"Oh, why not?" John asked, giving in and standing up.
Jack took them to a dance club he'd frequented in the past. Even though it was barely early evening, the club still thrummed with loud music when they stepped inside. Jack signaled for drinks after they'd been let in by the bouncer and soon the three of them took to the dance floor.
A few hours later, tired from dancing, loose and slightly sloppy from drink, Jack, John, and Sherlock collapsed on chairs surrounding one of the tables near the dance floor. Jack let out a small laugh and clapped his arms around John and Sherlock's shoulders.
"You two aren't bad!" He crowed, pulling them closer. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time."
Sherlock blinked sleepily at Jack and muttered something unintelligible. Meanwhile, John let out a small giggle and nudged Jack with his shoulder. "Thanks....mate...."
"Okay, couple of lightweights, I guess!" Jack laughed. "Let me take you two home. Where do you live?"
"B-baker Street," Sherlock slurred, propping his chin on his hand. "221B Baker Street."
"Right, up you get. Let's go," Jack helped the two of them to their feet and steered them towards the exit.
All three of them piled into a cab and Jack gave the address to the cabbie. They pulled up in front of a block of flats outside of a small restaurant. The black door to the flat had "221" in gold numbers attached above a slightly crooked doorknocker. Jack paid the cabbie and helped John and Sherlock up the stairs and into their flat.
The flat was cluttered, but in a tidy, organized way. Jack took in the scientific equipment set up on the kitchen table and the bookcase full to bursting with all manner of books and knew he'd chosen well. He wandered around the flat while John and Sherlock collapsed in two chairs in the living room.
"What exactly is it you two do?" Jack asked, peering at the titles on the bookshelf.
"I'm a d-detective," hiccupped Sherlock, "I solve crimes. And he blogs about it."
This statement caused both of them to giggle weakly, Sherlock emitting a small snort through his nose.
"Need a sidekick?" Jack asked, impulsively. "I've solved a few mysteries in my time."
Sherlock squinted at him, looking him up and down. "John's my sidekick."
"Am not!" John protested, looking aggrieved. "I'm not a sidekick!"
"Mmm... well, anyway, we do fine on our own."
"Pity," Jack said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don't really have anything better going for me and I bring a lot of assets to the table."
"Like what?"
"I'm good with guns. I can fight. I make a mean omelette," Jack ticked off each point on his fingers, "And I'm a damn good shag."
Sherlock spluttered while John hooted in laughter. "John and I... we're getting married!"
"Yeah, I think we established that earlier," Jack said.
"Well...well... that means... er...." Sherlock groped mentally for his words, but failed.
"I'm not here to get in the middle of you two," Jack paused, considering, "no, that's not true. I actually would very much like to get in the middle of you two. But not in the sense that I want to break you up. I'm just looking for a little... fun."
John's eyes had taken on a decidedly glazed-over look, so it was up to Sherlock to answer. "You want to have a threesome with John and me? When we've only just met?"
Jack shrugged. "You're both attractive. You've proven you know how to have a good time. Sure, why not?"
Sherlock opened his mouth to argue, but then seemed to pause for a moment and contemplate the point. "You know... I don't know why not."
Jack grinned widely. "So that's a yes?"
Sherlock stood up, swaying slightly, and approached Jack. His blue eyes flashed with something Jack couldn't interpret. Then Sherlock was kissing him. His lips were soft and he kissed sloppily, his mouth tasting of alcohol. He pressed his body against Jack's, deepening the kiss and splaying his hand just above Jack's ass. When he pulled away, Jack let out a breathy laugh and Sherlock smiled, lazily.
"That's a yes," Sherlock said, his words fuzzy at the edges.
"I'd say so," Jack murmured, "but not tonight."
Sherlock's brow furrowed. "What?"
"You heard me." Jack pointed Sherlock back to his chair and pushed him to sit down. "You're both too drunk to enjoy any of this."
Sherlock tried to protest, but Jack wouldn't hear it. "No, I'm not sleeping with either of you when you can't remember it. Now, where's the bedroom? I'll help you both get to bed."
Later, with Sherlock and John snoring lightly in bed together, Jack paced the floor of 221B's living room. He thought of the randomness of life and how things could change with the flip of a coin, or the chance meeting of two strangers in a café, drinking coffee. Jack smiled, settling on the sofa in the living room and propping his feet up as he sat back. This, he felt, was the start of a new adventure. This was the start of something good.