Your Business is My Business Chapter 3
Title: Your Business is My Business
Author: Dreykar
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Word count: 6728
Genre(s): General, slash and pre-slash
Rating: M
Warnings: None
Summary: A Sherlock and John-centric fic focusing on the situations surrounding the five times Sherlock nearly discovers his brother's relationship with DI Lestrade and the one time he does. Much Sherlock and John interaction, pre slash. 5plus1 Mystrade story with a lots of plot, dialogue and action surrounding the 'almost' discoveries, mostly from the eyes of our two Baker St residents.
"I don't see why we have to be here" Sherlock snapped as he dragged behind John. Usually with his long legs he was out in front so this was a testament to his current stroppy attitude.
"Because it's the right thing to do" the doctor explained simply with a bite of frustration as he checked his wallet to make sure he had enough money to cover their entry. They were only a block away now and were a little late due to the consulting detective throwing a tantrum and refusing to get himself ready. He also refused to hail them a taxi, John tried for five minutes with no luck as it seemed he didn't have the magic touch when it came to hailing a cab out of thin air. "I'd prefer a night in myself but like I said it's the right thing to do".
"But it doesn't mean that I have to be here, you could have come by yourself. I don't think my current experiment is going to take reliable notes on when it rises to an appropriate temperature for air bubbles to form, do you?"
The shorter man appeared to think this through and turned around to give eye contact. "It's only a matter of time until you create something that does have enough awareness to write up it's own lab notes. Make sure I'm out that day will you? I really don't want to see Frankenstein running around"
"Really, John, I shouldn't have to correct you to say that you mean Frankenstein's monster, Frankenstein was the doctor. It is a common mistake but one I wouldn't have expected from you"
The shorter man made a small chuckling sound. "No, I meant what I said, the monster I could handle it's the mad scientist I'm afraid of. The amount of body parts we have lying around from week to week means I've probably already met him, he just hasn't, you know, pulled himself together yet"
"Ha. Ha" the brunet deadpanned, considering making a run for it back home but his counterpart was still talking.
"He'd probably be tidier, have more respect for my sleeping patterns and be more conscientious in terms of my own belongings though. The monster that is"
"Well if you had any talent in the sciences I'd tell you to make him yourself, sounds like you'd be very happy together" he snarked, bitterly.
A few hours earlier they'd had the largest argument they'd had yet about what constituted good flatmate behavior after Sherlock had been displaying some particularly bad habits over the last couple of weeks. Worse than usual, that is, and this particular conversation had been coming for a while. John usually took the others habits as they were but recently it was really over and above what was acceptable.
When he first moved in and the younger man had given him the talk about 'Flatmates should know the worst about each other' and he'd seen what else would pass as normal such as the heads in the fridge, the violin at all hours and the experiments everywhere, the doctor realised that he could put up with all of this as he loved the excitement and he knew that he himself wasn't the easiest man to live with. What Sherlock should have brought up earlier today however was his increasing fear that John was going to leave him, for a woman most likely, but in essence he wouldn't be around forever.
John picked up the pace a bit after glancing at his watch. "I don't understand your problem, you never give up an opportunity to go to Bart's-"
"-well we're not going to Bart's are we? You've tricked me" he looked down at his friend then his eyes widened as though he was seeing him clearly for the first time. "I have underestimated your willingness to use underhanded methods, I must reassess this"
"Don't be so dramatic! It's just a fundraiser in partnership with the local emergency services who you know most of. I don't want to know the amount of them you've met over the years in different circumstances. You owe this to them, the amount of resources you must have taken up-"
"-is far outweighed by the good I've done for them in finding killers, preventing crimes and proving who is innocent and who is guilty when they are determined to be so blissfully idiotic".
"Yes, well we're nearly there now, let's give the name calling a miss for this evening, shall we?"
Sherlock seemed to mumble something along the lines of it only being the truth but he stayed quiet after that. He was in a fitted black suit with a deep blue button down shirt with highly polished dress shoes, not needing the coat this night. John paid their entry and they stepped into the function centre dining hall. The doctor looked up the seating plan and saw that they were placed on a table with a few of their Scotland Yard usuals but also surprisingly Mike Stamford, sometimes things just worked out.
"We're table thirteen, come on". At this they made their way over to their team for the evening.
"John, Sherlock, I was beginning to think you weren't coming" came a friendly greeting.
"Sorry about that Greg, got tied up at the flat" the blond explained lightly with an expressive turn of his head, trying to warn him what to expect from the man next to him. The elder one nodded his understanding. Before he could get another word in someone else spoke up.
"God, I don't want to know what you two freaks get up to in your spare time" Sally muttered behind her glass but everyone heard.
"Donovan" the DI warned. "Come on now, we need Sherlock in a good mood for the trivia section, I'm counting on him". He smiled over at the younger man. "Can I get you blokes a drink?". It was obvious he'd had had a few himself.
"Let's just hope the questions aren't on the solar system" Sally smirked, thinking of John's blog.
"Don't be ridiculous, he knows what the center of the universe is" a short haired lady next to Sally joked. They both giggled and took a sip of their wine.
John looked up with a furrowed brow, he'd seen that woman a couple of times down at Scotland Yard but they'd never been introduced. He may have been not so happy with his friend at the moment but she wasn't going to get away with saying those things about him. "Sorry, who are you?" he questioned a little too forcefully. Sherlock's eyes snapped over, seemingly surprised at John's protective outburst.
"Sergeant Joanne Thompkins, unlike Sally I haven't had the pleasure of working with your boyfriend but I've heard a lot about him".
"I'm John Watson, his colleague and friend" the man corrected with authority, they were only moments away from John's stance taking on a strong military edge.
At this Greg stepped in so nothing else could be said as the ex-army medic seemed to be ready for a verbal fight. "Next to Sally is PC Amy Matthews, Sherlock you sit with Amy, John you can squeeze yourself in between me and Sherlock. The person next to me is grabbing some drinks then there are a few people from the hospital and God help me if I can remember their names".
As if summoned the rest of the table joined them. "Mike!" John called out cheerfully, walking around and shaking his hand, he was willing to just ignore this Joanne person for the rest of the night. He was a bit disappointed in Sally though, she was usually better than this. But then he remembered at the last crime scene his flatmate loudly telling her that he knew about her recent pregnancy scare and how he was amazed that anything of Anderson's knew which way to swim. Ah, this explained the attitude then, maybe it was somewhat deserved.
"Hello John, hi Sherlock, haven't seen you around Bart's recently, boys!"
"My recent efforts have been based at the morgue" the consulting detective explained in a lazy drawl, earning a roll of the eyes from DS Donovan.
"Now that you say that Molly did mention that you'd been there Tuesday last"
"Is Molly here tonight?" John queried pleasantly while looking around.
"Oh no" the Bart's employee explained as he pushed his thick glasses up his nose as they started to slip "she was going to be on our table but she's got herself a date tonight, they're going to the theatre to see that play about the apple farm".
The consulting detective snorted to indicate how much interest he had in seeing that particular performance then diverted his attention to the tables around them as though nothing in front of him was worthy of his attention.
"She scrubs up alright in a dress that one" Greg said quietly whilst finishing off his pint. John glanced down with raised brows, that confirmed to him that this wasn't the first drink the man had had that night.
Mike put his arm around a woman next to him and smiled broadly. "This is my Genevieve, I don't think either of you have met her. Gen, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, you've heard all about them"
"I have, hello boys" the stockily built, homely looking woman greeted. Friendliness exuded from her very being from her thin but fluffy dyed amber hair to her sensible flat shoes.
"Hello, nice to meet you" John who was still standing near Mike leaned over to lightly shake her hand. "Mike and I first met years ago when we were training at Bart's"
"He mentioned you were a doctor. He missed you when you went to the Middle East, knew you'd be back though"
"Yeah, a little too soon, but that's ok" John commented and made his way back to his seat as they all sat down, including a younger man he hadn't met yet.
"So you're amateur detectives?" she queried politely.
"Consulting detectives. Well detective" Sherlock clarified, acting like a grounded sixteen year old.
Mike beamed and then introduced the man next to him. "Everyone this is Arnold, he's been assisting me in the labs on Tuesdays and Wednesdays".
There was a chime of greeting and the shy man in his early twenties waved. "I've-I've heard of you, Mr. Holmes. Your methods on determining the age of blood stains and your theory on the breakdown of haemoglobin are really inspiring".
Sherlock sat up straighter. "Ah, thank you" he replied hesitantly, looking between the student and John rapidly, not really knowing what to say and hoping to receive some social direction from his colleague. He smiled a little just in case that was what he should do but he didn't want to react too much in case the rug was pulled out from under him, that is, in case this was a joke to make fun of his ego.
"Also we were able to take a screen shot on your work on the different types of tobacco ash before you took it off your site. We" at this he gave a nervous laugh but carried on "we spent some time at student camp testing each other on it, you know, at night when we'd finished classes for the day".
The three female officers were talking amongst themselves and not paying attention so they missed the small, almost imperceptible emotions on the detective's face. His chest swelled with pride, his eyes became a little shinier and his lips tugged upwards just a little. This was squashed down within moments. When he spoke his voice was steady, but a little softer than usual. "Thank you, Arnold. I hope the results were most interesting".
The young man nodded and began to talk to Mike and his wife. Greg turned around to speak to the person who just walked up behind him. John leaned closer to his friend and patted his thigh. "Well done, mate" he encouraged warmly. The emotion was not lost on him, although most others probably wouldn't have picked up on it.
"Oh, you're here". A few people looked up to see DI Dimmock handing Lestrade another pint whilst looking at the pale brunet.
"Detective Inspector Dimmock" Sherlock acknowledged, he seemed to be back to himself now after the flattery and had seemed to have forgotten that he was meant to be sulking.
"Greg didn't mention you'd be here. Watson" he nodded at John.
"You could have read the seating arrangements yourself or do you handle your social engagements like you do your investigations? Letting others inform you of the salient facts as you are unlikely to discover them for yourself?"
"Oh God" John murmured as he ran a hand over his face.
"Alright, enough of that" Greg instructed, again taking up the mantle of peace keeper. He held up his fresh drink to the younger DI next to him. "Cheers".
At this the lights dim and there is a short welcome and introduction to the nights events. They discover that a trivia section followed by a light meal was to be had which will then lead into an auction. A DJ will be performing later most were glad to hear.
John ended up being the captain of the table for their round of trivia after Sherlock mentioned he really held that rank, his smirk told the ex-solider that this was to get back at him for making him attend. PC Amy suggested they call themselves 'Watson's Weapons' as they needed a name. When John said that was a great idea she blushed, the man in the middle of the two rolled his eyes at the attempted flirting.
They were up to round four, music, and were doing quite well. Up until now everyone had been able to answer at least a few questions each. Sherlock ranged from having outstanding knowledge to being frightfully ignorant about some topics. Music was one of these subjects where his personal knowledge bank was somewhat varied.
"What is a 'Fermata' when used in musical notation?"
The tall violinist leaned forward without missing a beat and regurgitated in a fast monotone "A fermata is an element of musical notation indicating that the note should be sustained for longer than its note value would indicate. Exactly how much longer it is held is up to the discretion of the performer or conductor, but twice as long is not unusual. The symbol appeared as early as the 15th century-".
"-got all that, Mr. Encyclopaedia. Is there a condensed version?" John asks with kind patience.
"It's also known as a hold or pause" he replied, sounding disappointed at having to tone down his answer.
"Perfect" the doctor encouraged, writing down the explanation only slightly faster than his computer typing.
"Next question, when The Beatles were turned down by their first record company what were they famously told?"
"Guitar groups are going out of style" Mike called out, after dipping his head down to hopefully prevent other tables from using their answer. "Love me some Beatles" he beamed, squeezing his wife's hand.
Sherlock pulled the answer sheet from John and looking at the messy scrawl he wanted to know whose idea it was to have a doctor do the note taking and expressed that it would lose them points in the long run. He turned down the offer that he should just do it himself if he didn't like it.
"What year did Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart pass away?"
"1791" Arnold and Sherlock announced at the same time. Sherlock almost scowled at him then he remembered what the student had said before about his website and work so he scowled at the stage instead until the next question was read out.
"Which artist performed the song 'Macarena'?"
"It's on the tip of my tongue! Umm" Joanne exclaimed, excitedly.
"Oh, it's Los...Los something something" Sally replied. "Anyone?"
"Come on, Sherlock!" Greg encouraged.
"What's it called again?" he asked in a bored voice.
"The Macarena" Amy supplied.
"Macarena? No, never heard of it, moving on"
"Seriously?" John exclaimed. "That thing was everywhere for at least a year in the nineties, had a dance that went with it. Would have played at all your school formals, you have to know it!"
"I must have deleted it"
"Can't blame him" Greg nodded with respect.
Dimmock muttered something.
"Sorry?" John asked, they were running out of time to answer the question.
"Los Del Rio" he said a little more loudly and quickly took a large sip of his beer, obviously embarrassed
"Final question for this round. What was the title of the much covered Sam Cooke song from 1961?"
"Cupid" Mrs. Stamford called out to everyone's surprise. "It's Mikey's favourite" she explained, her husband leant down and pecked her on the lips at this.
It went this for a few more rounds, they ended up coming third out of thirty nine tables. They did pretty well considering.
Soon after this the food arrived and the auction took place.
By this point Amy and John were openly flirting with each other across Sherlock whose mood began to sour dramatically. It was back to what it had been earlier, perhaps worse. John didn't really notice too much and thought it must be because they only came third in the trivia. His handwriting wasn't that illegible. Greg spent a lot of this time texting. He'd had quite a few drinks at this point and seemed to be in a great mood, often grinning at his phone once another message came through.
"You answered a lot of those questions, Amy" the ex-army doctor noted, in an impressed tone. "Got all of the tennis ones correct"
"I used to play, well I still do sometimes, you know socially. I used to play competition". She had green eyes and strawberry blonde hair, seemed to be in her twenties and was clearly loving this attention.
"I used to play rugby for Blackheath" John explained.
"Oh, rugby!" this seemed to get her to talk more openly. "Some of my guy friends play that still. I go and watch them sometimes when I'm not too busy. Was your team good?"
"Well, I don't like to boast" he sounded as though he letting her in on a great secret "but we won the championship three years in a row at one point".
Greg joined the conversation, locking his mobile and placing it down on the table in front of him. "Well my team won four seasons in a row at one point. They couldn't find a team better than us. Locally anyway. I wonder if we played against each other? May not've come to think of it, the timing's out"
"If we did you would have remembered me, Greg" John said with a cheeky wink and hopping into another pint that Dimmock had provided. "Don't want to talk myself up but, yeah..." he left it at that, apart from a raising of his brows with a smirk.
"Did you play any sport, Sherlock? You're being very quiet" Amy opened up the floor.
"I've always found boxing to be a satisfactory pastime".
"You?" Sally asked with a scoff, Joanne sticking her head around the policewoman to stare at him with interest. "You do boxing?" she indicated towards him with her glass. "With your build?"
"He's pretty muscular" John explained as he shoved a large piece of broccoli in his mouth then thought about what he said. "Well, you know, he is. He's strong, surprised you haven't worked that out. You can tell with his clothes on. I'm going to stop"
"Do you still box?" Amy asked, intrigued, ignoring the deepening hole the blond was trying to dig his way out of.
"No, he doesn't". They all looked to the greying DI who was watching Sherlock closely. "If he did then it would be in illegal competitions. So, considering half this table is of the constabulary, Sherlock?"
The brunet gave Amy his most fake smile. "What Lestrade said". From here the table broke down into groups again.
"You're pretty fit too, Amy" John said, conversationally, poking his fork her way as he chewed with his mouth open. "You know fit, muscular. You must keep yourself in shape"
"I have to for work" she said coyly as she blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well if there's a correlation between how fit you are and how good an officer you are then you must be great at your job" he said smoothly, turning the charm up to a new level which was very well received.
The PC giggled and the two of them had a moment as Sherlock groaned "Oh, please". Lestrade was watching the three of them closely with slightly narrowed eyes.
After their meal was finished and the auction was over the DJ started which led to the three female officers and Dimmock going off to dance while the three from the hospital turned their chairs around to the table behind them to chat to some of the people they work with but don't get a chance to speak with very often.
Sherlock went for a walk, Greg got another drink for him and John. Both of them had consumed a number of pints by now and the older man had a surprise in store.
"Try this one oh John of Blackheath, master rugby player"
"What is it, Lestrade of, whichever club you played for?"
The policeman chuckled as the music pumped loudly around them. "Some drink I had the other day. It's a gin thing, the cherry really makes it".
"Cherry?" the younger man questioned with a sceptical look. "This is a guys drink, yeah?"
"Just try it before you knock it, Blackheathan"
They sat there for a few minutes together. It had been a while since the two of them had sat down and had a proper chat. John found the drink to hit the spot and preceded to tell the other man that who just responded with a smug 'told you so'.
Greg's phone flashed, he read it and he looked around then sent a text back to the same mystery person he'd been in contact with all night. "So what's up with Sherlock tonight? You two had a barney or something?"
John's inhibitions were nonexistent, he was more than comfortable to talk about this. "Just had an argument about him being a bit more respectful about sleeping times, cleaning, experiments, loud sounds at 3am. You know"
"I do know" he then elaborated. "He lived with me very briefly a few years back. I won't go into detail unless he gives the okay but he was trying to get his life back on track so I gave him a place to stay when he needed it. Didn't exactly go down well with the wife having a drop in junkie, but I could see his potential...even if he couldn't"
"You're a good guy, Greg. He has a lot of people in his life that just want the best for him"
"You included". The officer was quite serious now. "He trusts you, John. In all the time I've known him, and according to his brother, he's never taken to anyone like he's taken to you"
"Right person at the right time I guess" the blond deflected. He seemed to need to get something off his chest. "People constantly say to me how lucky he is that I put up with him but a lot of the time I see it the other way around. I was, I was so lost when I met him". He paused as his throat constricted. "Everything was blank, bland, nothing exciting happened. Then he bursts in with his insane crime scenes and ridiculous cheekbones and suddenly I'm alive again. I don't think I've thanked him enough, I just wouldn't know how to tell him. You know what he's like with emotional things, I think this is just best left unsaid. He should have worked it out anyway, he knows everything about everyone already"
"I don't think it would hurt to tell him. Listen, I'll probably regret saying this to you tomorrow, and you've got to keep it to yourself, but there's a reason I have a bit of Holmes experience now. It's funny how it's happened but-"
"-that's a gin Last Word cocktail with a cherry" a loud voice said to them as the person strode up to their right hand side, although the effect was lessened without a big flapping trench coat.
"It's delicious, would you like a sip?" John offered, Sherlock took the drink, sniffed it and then with a sound of sudden understanding tipped the rest onto the table and slammed the glass down into the puddle. "Hey! What are you-"
He trailed off as Sherlock pointed a finger at Lestrade. "Tell me" he said. "This is an interesting choice of cocktail, Inspector. Hrm? Not a usual choice for a man of your tastes. Oh and there's the little matter of only one person I know drinking it in this exact manner"
"What now?" the older man groaned. "What is this meant to say about me? That I fancied post-punk indie when I was younger? That I had a collie called Billy until I was twelve?"
Sherlock looked at John. "That's a drink Mycroft favours" he explained with the air of revealing the big plot twist of an upcoming blockbuster.
"Anyone could drink that" the doctor shot down in a little as four words.
"Not with a cherry" the tall man continued, undeterred. "Mycroft makes it with a cherry, it appeals to his sweet tooth. He also likes oysters with a sprinkle of sugar and lemon juice, steak with caramelised onions with a dash of brandy and milk with vanilla essence when he can't sleep"
"Sounds delicious" Lestrade responded with a shrug of his shoulders.
"That's all you can say? Sounds delicious? This isn't the first time I've suspected something's going on, Greg". He still sounded suspicious about whether or not that was the other's real name.
At this Joanne and Sally returned to the table holding new drinks. "Greg! You've got a cherry in your drink too! They're putting them in everyones, yours is the sixth we've seen". At this they take a sip, then see John's and take another mouthful with a giggle. "We've made it into a drinking game, a sip for every one we see. They seem to have a lot of them!".
What they didn't know was the only reason the bar was putting them on all the cocktails now was because Greg's order made them open a can of the fruit and they didn't want them to go to waste. If the world's only consulting detective wasn't already so distracted he would have worked this out for himself.
"Well, Sherlock. You can apologise any time you like".
The detective barked a humourless 'ha' and scowls at the groups of people around them, suddenly there were little red shapes in glasses everywhere.
"Well, back to the meals you said your brother likes, I wouldn't turn that down if someone cooked it up for me" the doctor confessed.
"Yes, you should talk to him about food sometime, he'd find it riveting. Perhaps give you a Knighthood for Services to the Greater Public Interest"
"Maybe I'm living with the wrong Holmes?" John joked, trying to diffuse the situation with humour but going the wrong way about it. "Perhaps I can ask him to kidnap me to a nice restaurant next time, one with candles?" he flashed a grin to the greying DI who began to look increasingly uncomfortable.
"That's not even remotely funny, John" Sherlock snapped, looking strangely serious which was lost of the two who'd been drinking all night.
"No, sounds good to me" the shorter one continued, thinking the change in topic to something ludicrous would calm his flatmate down "I bet he'd keep the place tidy, there'd be good food and drink, no dead bodies in the fridge, wouldn't keep me up with playing violin-"
"-Mycroft plays a variety of music through his audiophile level speakers at all hours of the day. The rule is not to disturb him, even between movements. It's mostly what you would call 'Classical' but actually ranges over a number of different time periods. There basically isn't any food in the house, he relies on his assistant for most of his daily sustenance and most meals are taken 'out', so if you want 'good food and drink' you'd be up for a huge bill. He also ranges between feast and famine so you'll either be dragged to restaurants when you want a night in or have to find your own food and eat it away from him unless you want an argument on your hands. The place will be tidy but it's usually because his houses are under-used and also devoid of much personality so as to prevent people from deducing much about him. There are also constant security sweeps so the less bulk there the better. I've already mentioned that he is rarely at his premises but when he is he sleeps about as well as I do which seems at odds with his inherent laziness. I like to think that he sleeps less than average to leave time for being idle. So, in summary, you would be no better off spending time with Mycroft".
Greg and John sat in silence. The elder man's eyes were wide and he seemed to be running through each comment in his mind to test its validity. This went on until John said in a stunned tone. "Sherlock I was joking, just joking. Calm down. You know I'm kidding about Mycroft. There's no need to be, to sound so-"
"-well if it isn't Mycroft, maybe you'd prefer to go and live with 'Amy'?" he said the name as though it were an offensive swear word. On a roll, he was looking more and more like he did as he explained in front of the fireplace at the Cross Keys B&B that he had actually seen the hound of Baskerville. "Let's see, shall we? She's about nine years younger than you, despite her hinted promises she's quite sexually inexperienced. She lives with her engaged older sister in a small flat just outside Soho, been single for around three to four years with a penchant for older men. By the way she thinks you're a few years younger than you actually are, mistakenly determining you're around my age but 'hardened' from the war. Thinks she's up for 'it' tonight but would back out after some kissing and light touching, would want to keep up the association to get a relationship out of it. Doesn't understand that she is desperate to have the life her sister has. Well off you go, John. Go and get her. She's young and desperate, off you go. You were very interested before".
John sits without a word. After around a of minute of stunned silence he stands up and puts on his jacket. It shows how much this has shocked him that his temper lies dormant. Lost for words he nods then turns to his friend. "I think it's time to go home".
Sherlock snorts. "Off you go then".
John reaches out and grabs his forearm and quietly implores "Come and get a taxi with me and we can have a chat". He looks up to Sherlock and is surprised at the hurt he sees there that's quickly masked. "I was just joking..." John murmurs more to himself.
The taller brunet pulls his limb out of the other's grip. "I'm going to have another drink and then go for a walk. Goodnight, John".
Greg coughs, stands awkwardly and indicates to a spot away from them. "I'm going to, ah, night fellas".
Sherlock ignores this. "I said goodnight".
"I know you did. Just come outside with me for a minute then you can interrogate Lestrade. I know you want to".
"I don't know why I'm so angry, John" the younger one states, looking a little vulnerable. He wouldn't make eye contact, just watched out over the top of other man's head.
"I don't know either. I've had a bit too much to drink, I think. I didn't realise until now that I'm standing, I must have baited you too and gone too far without realising it. My fault. Let's go". John looks up to see Lestrade and Stamford facing them and talking at a distance, concern on their faces. The DI with his phone out texting again, this time with a serious expression.
"Get a taxi. I'll be home later" he instructs then a moment later he's turned on his heel and is moving away.
"Sherlock" the blond calls out after the man but he sweeps off into the crowd towards the bar.
"Hey, John. Are you going to come and have a dance?"
"What?" he turns to see Amy there. "Oh, it's you. Hi. No, listen I've got to head off. I'll probably see you at the station sometime". He begins to leave.
"That's it?"
"Yeah, see you later". He turns a bit and sees her disappointed face, behind her he catches a glimpse of Greg and Mike watching him carefully and still obviously talking about the two of them.
John gets a taxi fairly easily, missing the black luxury car on the opposite side of the road pull up in case it's needed, and spends the next few hours staring at the telly not really paying too much attention. At around 1:30am he hears footsteps and from his armchair sees Sherlock come into his line of sight and stand awkwardly near the table.
"John I am going to speak and you need to...I would like you to listen" he was being formal, his speech carefully controlled. "Stamford and Lestrade informed me that I should have my say with no interruption and then you may do the same".
John nodded his agreement to the terms.
"Our discussion today involving how I was letting you down as a flatmate made me realise that I enjoy living with someone, more particularly I enjoy living with you, John, and that even though you intend to stay here for now it has remained fairly unspoken between us that this may not always be the case. You show an ongoing interest in developing relationships with women and I believe you will continue to do this as you have shown no inclination to stop these activities. Your blatant wooing of PC Amy Matthews, my apparent incorrect assumption about Lestrade and my brother and your words led me to acting out in a way that was not befitting of me or our relationship. So, I wish to apologise for the way in which I spoke to you and hope that this doesn't change anything between us. I have grown...accustomed to your presence and it would sadden me if you chose to end our association. I am not sure why I acted as I did, however both Stamford and Lestrade feel as though there is a variable which I do not yet fully comprehend that affected my judgement. They said perhaps time will assist in working out what that variable is. Again please take my apology with the heartfeltness in which I give it".
John looked shocked. "Oh God, Sherlock, look at us. I'm going nowhere. Of course I want to get married and have kids but that's not going to happen next week and it's not going to be with PC Matthews. Let's just say sorry and forget this ever happened, yeah? I'm a bit scared at how far this has gone. Who else knows?"
The brunet began to visibly relax. His shoulders lowered and he stopped tapping his fingers together by his sides. "Apology accepted. The only two that know have been mentioned already, the others didn't hear a thing. Lestrade and Stamford have been sworn to secrecy".
John stood and took a couple of steps towards his friend who took a half step forward when John opened his arms. The doctor gave Sherlock a stiff half hug, Sherlock patted the man on the shoulder then brought another arm around him lightly which he tightened after realising he enjoyed this physical contact. After a few moments John let go and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water to take to bed. "But I still meant what I said about taking out the rubbish once in a while, just because we hugged doesn't mean what I said about being tidier doesn't count".
A small smirk flashed on the detective's face but was quickly smothered. "Well I suppose I could try to pick up after myself a little more. And keep the violin to daylight hours, not during cases though".
"Well I can live with some small improvements for now". The mood in the room had warmed and things seemed to be back to normal. "We're idiots, you know".
"Speak for yourself" Sherlock said, although John couldn't see his face as the man was starting up his laptop, he could hear the humour in his voice. All was well again.
____
A/N: This chapter ended up with more angst than was originally intended but I think it needs to go to that level for it to have its proper effect on the rest of the story. Also it's the longest so far, longer than the first two chapters combined.
The music facts for the trivia night were taken from Wikipedia as were the details for the Last Word gin cocktail. John playing for Blackheath is from his blog.
As always comments/feedback are greatly appreciated. This story is halfway through now and it would be great to hear what your thoughts are :)
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Author: Dreykar
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Word count: 6728
Genre(s): General, slash and pre-slash
Rating: M
Warnings: None
Summary: A Sherlock and John-centric fic focusing on the situations surrounding the five times Sherlock nearly discovers his brother's relationship with DI Lestrade and the one time he does. Much Sherlock and John interaction, pre slash. 5plus1 Mystrade story with a lots of plot, dialogue and action surrounding the 'almost' discoveries, mostly from the eyes of our two Baker St residents.
"I don't see why we have to be here" Sherlock snapped as he dragged behind John. Usually with his long legs he was out in front so this was a testament to his current stroppy attitude.
"Because it's the right thing to do" the doctor explained simply with a bite of frustration as he checked his wallet to make sure he had enough money to cover their entry. They were only a block away now and were a little late due to the consulting detective throwing a tantrum and refusing to get himself ready. He also refused to hail them a taxi, John tried for five minutes with no luck as it seemed he didn't have the magic touch when it came to hailing a cab out of thin air. "I'd prefer a night in myself but like I said it's the right thing to do".
"But it doesn't mean that I have to be here, you could have come by yourself. I don't think my current experiment is going to take reliable notes on when it rises to an appropriate temperature for air bubbles to form, do you?"
The shorter man appeared to think this through and turned around to give eye contact. "It's only a matter of time until you create something that does have enough awareness to write up it's own lab notes. Make sure I'm out that day will you? I really don't want to see Frankenstein running around"
"Really, John, I shouldn't have to correct you to say that you mean Frankenstein's monster, Frankenstein was the doctor. It is a common mistake but one I wouldn't have expected from you"
The shorter man made a small chuckling sound. "No, I meant what I said, the monster I could handle it's the mad scientist I'm afraid of. The amount of body parts we have lying around from week to week means I've probably already met him, he just hasn't, you know, pulled himself together yet"
"Ha. Ha" the brunet deadpanned, considering making a run for it back home but his counterpart was still talking.
"He'd probably be tidier, have more respect for my sleeping patterns and be more conscientious in terms of my own belongings though. The monster that is"
"Well if you had any talent in the sciences I'd tell you to make him yourself, sounds like you'd be very happy together" he snarked, bitterly.
A few hours earlier they'd had the largest argument they'd had yet about what constituted good flatmate behavior after Sherlock had been displaying some particularly bad habits over the last couple of weeks. Worse than usual, that is, and this particular conversation had been coming for a while. John usually took the others habits as they were but recently it was really over and above what was acceptable.
When he first moved in and the younger man had given him the talk about 'Flatmates should know the worst about each other' and he'd seen what else would pass as normal such as the heads in the fridge, the violin at all hours and the experiments everywhere, the doctor realised that he could put up with all of this as he loved the excitement and he knew that he himself wasn't the easiest man to live with. What Sherlock should have brought up earlier today however was his increasing fear that John was going to leave him, for a woman most likely, but in essence he wouldn't be around forever.
John picked up the pace a bit after glancing at his watch. "I don't understand your problem, you never give up an opportunity to go to Bart's-"
"-well we're not going to Bart's are we? You've tricked me" he looked down at his friend then his eyes widened as though he was seeing him clearly for the first time. "I have underestimated your willingness to use underhanded methods, I must reassess this"
"Don't be so dramatic! It's just a fundraiser in partnership with the local emergency services who you know most of. I don't want to know the amount of them you've met over the years in different circumstances. You owe this to them, the amount of resources you must have taken up-"
"-is far outweighed by the good I've done for them in finding killers, preventing crimes and proving who is innocent and who is guilty when they are determined to be so blissfully idiotic".
"Yes, well we're nearly there now, let's give the name calling a miss for this evening, shall we?"
Sherlock seemed to mumble something along the lines of it only being the truth but he stayed quiet after that. He was in a fitted black suit with a deep blue button down shirt with highly polished dress shoes, not needing the coat this night. John paid their entry and they stepped into the function centre dining hall. The doctor looked up the seating plan and saw that they were placed on a table with a few of their Scotland Yard usuals but also surprisingly Mike Stamford, sometimes things just worked out.
"We're table thirteen, come on". At this they made their way over to their team for the evening.
"John, Sherlock, I was beginning to think you weren't coming" came a friendly greeting.
"Sorry about that Greg, got tied up at the flat" the blond explained lightly with an expressive turn of his head, trying to warn him what to expect from the man next to him. The elder one nodded his understanding. Before he could get another word in someone else spoke up.
"God, I don't want to know what you two freaks get up to in your spare time" Sally muttered behind her glass but everyone heard.
"Donovan" the DI warned. "Come on now, we need Sherlock in a good mood for the trivia section, I'm counting on him". He smiled over at the younger man. "Can I get you blokes a drink?". It was obvious he'd had had a few himself.
"Let's just hope the questions aren't on the solar system" Sally smirked, thinking of John's blog.
"Don't be ridiculous, he knows what the center of the universe is" a short haired lady next to Sally joked. They both giggled and took a sip of their wine.
John looked up with a furrowed brow, he'd seen that woman a couple of times down at Scotland Yard but they'd never been introduced. He may have been not so happy with his friend at the moment but she wasn't going to get away with saying those things about him. "Sorry, who are you?" he questioned a little too forcefully. Sherlock's eyes snapped over, seemingly surprised at John's protective outburst.
"Sergeant Joanne Thompkins, unlike Sally I haven't had the pleasure of working with your boyfriend but I've heard a lot about him".
"I'm John Watson, his colleague and friend" the man corrected with authority, they were only moments away from John's stance taking on a strong military edge.
At this Greg stepped in so nothing else could be said as the ex-army medic seemed to be ready for a verbal fight. "Next to Sally is PC Amy Matthews, Sherlock you sit with Amy, John you can squeeze yourself in between me and Sherlock. The person next to me is grabbing some drinks then there are a few people from the hospital and God help me if I can remember their names".
As if summoned the rest of the table joined them. "Mike!" John called out cheerfully, walking around and shaking his hand, he was willing to just ignore this Joanne person for the rest of the night. He was a bit disappointed in Sally though, she was usually better than this. But then he remembered at the last crime scene his flatmate loudly telling her that he knew about her recent pregnancy scare and how he was amazed that anything of Anderson's knew which way to swim. Ah, this explained the attitude then, maybe it was somewhat deserved.
"Hello John, hi Sherlock, haven't seen you around Bart's recently, boys!"
"My recent efforts have been based at the morgue" the consulting detective explained in a lazy drawl, earning a roll of the eyes from DS Donovan.
"Now that you say that Molly did mention that you'd been there Tuesday last"
"Is Molly here tonight?" John queried pleasantly while looking around.
"Oh no" the Bart's employee explained as he pushed his thick glasses up his nose as they started to slip "she was going to be on our table but she's got herself a date tonight, they're going to the theatre to see that play about the apple farm".
The consulting detective snorted to indicate how much interest he had in seeing that particular performance then diverted his attention to the tables around them as though nothing in front of him was worthy of his attention.
"She scrubs up alright in a dress that one" Greg said quietly whilst finishing off his pint. John glanced down with raised brows, that confirmed to him that this wasn't the first drink the man had had that night.
Mike put his arm around a woman next to him and smiled broadly. "This is my Genevieve, I don't think either of you have met her. Gen, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, you've heard all about them"
"I have, hello boys" the stockily built, homely looking woman greeted. Friendliness exuded from her very being from her thin but fluffy dyed amber hair to her sensible flat shoes.
"Hello, nice to meet you" John who was still standing near Mike leaned over to lightly shake her hand. "Mike and I first met years ago when we were training at Bart's"
"He mentioned you were a doctor. He missed you when you went to the Middle East, knew you'd be back though"
"Yeah, a little too soon, but that's ok" John commented and made his way back to his seat as they all sat down, including a younger man he hadn't met yet.
"So you're amateur detectives?" she queried politely.
"Consulting detectives. Well detective" Sherlock clarified, acting like a grounded sixteen year old.
Mike beamed and then introduced the man next to him. "Everyone this is Arnold, he's been assisting me in the labs on Tuesdays and Wednesdays".
There was a chime of greeting and the shy man in his early twenties waved. "I've-I've heard of you, Mr. Holmes. Your methods on determining the age of blood stains and your theory on the breakdown of haemoglobin are really inspiring".
Sherlock sat up straighter. "Ah, thank you" he replied hesitantly, looking between the student and John rapidly, not really knowing what to say and hoping to receive some social direction from his colleague. He smiled a little just in case that was what he should do but he didn't want to react too much in case the rug was pulled out from under him, that is, in case this was a joke to make fun of his ego.
"Also we were able to take a screen shot on your work on the different types of tobacco ash before you took it off your site. We" at this he gave a nervous laugh but carried on "we spent some time at student camp testing each other on it, you know, at night when we'd finished classes for the day".
The three female officers were talking amongst themselves and not paying attention so they missed the small, almost imperceptible emotions on the detective's face. His chest swelled with pride, his eyes became a little shinier and his lips tugged upwards just a little. This was squashed down within moments. When he spoke his voice was steady, but a little softer than usual. "Thank you, Arnold. I hope the results were most interesting".
The young man nodded and began to talk to Mike and his wife. Greg turned around to speak to the person who just walked up behind him. John leaned closer to his friend and patted his thigh. "Well done, mate" he encouraged warmly. The emotion was not lost on him, although most others probably wouldn't have picked up on it.
"Oh, you're here". A few people looked up to see DI Dimmock handing Lestrade another pint whilst looking at the pale brunet.
"Detective Inspector Dimmock" Sherlock acknowledged, he seemed to be back to himself now after the flattery and had seemed to have forgotten that he was meant to be sulking.
"Greg didn't mention you'd be here. Watson" he nodded at John.
"You could have read the seating arrangements yourself or do you handle your social engagements like you do your investigations? Letting others inform you of the salient facts as you are unlikely to discover them for yourself?"
"Oh God" John murmured as he ran a hand over his face.
"Alright, enough of that" Greg instructed, again taking up the mantle of peace keeper. He held up his fresh drink to the younger DI next to him. "Cheers".
At this the lights dim and there is a short welcome and introduction to the nights events. They discover that a trivia section followed by a light meal was to be had which will then lead into an auction. A DJ will be performing later most were glad to hear.
John ended up being the captain of the table for their round of trivia after Sherlock mentioned he really held that rank, his smirk told the ex-solider that this was to get back at him for making him attend. PC Amy suggested they call themselves 'Watson's Weapons' as they needed a name. When John said that was a great idea she blushed, the man in the middle of the two rolled his eyes at the attempted flirting.
They were up to round four, music, and were doing quite well. Up until now everyone had been able to answer at least a few questions each. Sherlock ranged from having outstanding knowledge to being frightfully ignorant about some topics. Music was one of these subjects where his personal knowledge bank was somewhat varied.
"What is a 'Fermata' when used in musical notation?"
The tall violinist leaned forward without missing a beat and regurgitated in a fast monotone "A fermata is an element of musical notation indicating that the note should be sustained for longer than its note value would indicate. Exactly how much longer it is held is up to the discretion of the performer or conductor, but twice as long is not unusual. The symbol appeared as early as the 15th century-".
"-got all that, Mr. Encyclopaedia. Is there a condensed version?" John asks with kind patience.
"It's also known as a hold or pause" he replied, sounding disappointed at having to tone down his answer.
"Perfect" the doctor encouraged, writing down the explanation only slightly faster than his computer typing.
"Next question, when The Beatles were turned down by their first record company what were they famously told?"
"Guitar groups are going out of style" Mike called out, after dipping his head down to hopefully prevent other tables from using their answer. "Love me some Beatles" he beamed, squeezing his wife's hand.
Sherlock pulled the answer sheet from John and looking at the messy scrawl he wanted to know whose idea it was to have a doctor do the note taking and expressed that it would lose them points in the long run. He turned down the offer that he should just do it himself if he didn't like it.
"What year did Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart pass away?"
"1791" Arnold and Sherlock announced at the same time. Sherlock almost scowled at him then he remembered what the student had said before about his website and work so he scowled at the stage instead until the next question was read out.
"Which artist performed the song 'Macarena'?"
"It's on the tip of my tongue! Umm" Joanne exclaimed, excitedly.
"Oh, it's Los...Los something something" Sally replied. "Anyone?"
"Come on, Sherlock!" Greg encouraged.
"What's it called again?" he asked in a bored voice.
"The Macarena" Amy supplied.
"Macarena? No, never heard of it, moving on"
"Seriously?" John exclaimed. "That thing was everywhere for at least a year in the nineties, had a dance that went with it. Would have played at all your school formals, you have to know it!"
"I must have deleted it"
"Can't blame him" Greg nodded with respect.
Dimmock muttered something.
"Sorry?" John asked, they were running out of time to answer the question.
"Los Del Rio" he said a little more loudly and quickly took a large sip of his beer, obviously embarrassed
"Final question for this round. What was the title of the much covered Sam Cooke song from 1961?"
"Cupid" Mrs. Stamford called out to everyone's surprise. "It's Mikey's favourite" she explained, her husband leant down and pecked her on the lips at this.
It went this for a few more rounds, they ended up coming third out of thirty nine tables. They did pretty well considering.
Soon after this the food arrived and the auction took place.
By this point Amy and John were openly flirting with each other across Sherlock whose mood began to sour dramatically. It was back to what it had been earlier, perhaps worse. John didn't really notice too much and thought it must be because they only came third in the trivia. His handwriting wasn't that illegible. Greg spent a lot of this time texting. He'd had quite a few drinks at this point and seemed to be in a great mood, often grinning at his phone once another message came through.
"You answered a lot of those questions, Amy" the ex-army doctor noted, in an impressed tone. "Got all of the tennis ones correct"
"I used to play, well I still do sometimes, you know socially. I used to play competition". She had green eyes and strawberry blonde hair, seemed to be in her twenties and was clearly loving this attention.
"I used to play rugby for Blackheath" John explained.
"Oh, rugby!" this seemed to get her to talk more openly. "Some of my guy friends play that still. I go and watch them sometimes when I'm not too busy. Was your team good?"
"Well, I don't like to boast" he sounded as though he letting her in on a great secret "but we won the championship three years in a row at one point".
Greg joined the conversation, locking his mobile and placing it down on the table in front of him. "Well my team won four seasons in a row at one point. They couldn't find a team better than us. Locally anyway. I wonder if we played against each other? May not've come to think of it, the timing's out"
"If we did you would have remembered me, Greg" John said with a cheeky wink and hopping into another pint that Dimmock had provided. "Don't want to talk myself up but, yeah..." he left it at that, apart from a raising of his brows with a smirk.
"Did you play any sport, Sherlock? You're being very quiet" Amy opened up the floor.
"I've always found boxing to be a satisfactory pastime".
"You?" Sally asked with a scoff, Joanne sticking her head around the policewoman to stare at him with interest. "You do boxing?" she indicated towards him with her glass. "With your build?"
"He's pretty muscular" John explained as he shoved a large piece of broccoli in his mouth then thought about what he said. "Well, you know, he is. He's strong, surprised you haven't worked that out. You can tell with his clothes on. I'm going to stop"
"Do you still box?" Amy asked, intrigued, ignoring the deepening hole the blond was trying to dig his way out of.
"No, he doesn't". They all looked to the greying DI who was watching Sherlock closely. "If he did then it would be in illegal competitions. So, considering half this table is of the constabulary, Sherlock?"
The brunet gave Amy his most fake smile. "What Lestrade said". From here the table broke down into groups again.
"You're pretty fit too, Amy" John said, conversationally, poking his fork her way as he chewed with his mouth open. "You know fit, muscular. You must keep yourself in shape"
"I have to for work" she said coyly as she blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well if there's a correlation between how fit you are and how good an officer you are then you must be great at your job" he said smoothly, turning the charm up to a new level which was very well received.
The PC giggled and the two of them had a moment as Sherlock groaned "Oh, please". Lestrade was watching the three of them closely with slightly narrowed eyes.
After their meal was finished and the auction was over the DJ started which led to the three female officers and Dimmock going off to dance while the three from the hospital turned their chairs around to the table behind them to chat to some of the people they work with but don't get a chance to speak with very often.
Sherlock went for a walk, Greg got another drink for him and John. Both of them had consumed a number of pints by now and the older man had a surprise in store.
"Try this one oh John of Blackheath, master rugby player"
"What is it, Lestrade of, whichever club you played for?"
The policeman chuckled as the music pumped loudly around them. "Some drink I had the other day. It's a gin thing, the cherry really makes it".
"Cherry?" the younger man questioned with a sceptical look. "This is a guys drink, yeah?"
"Just try it before you knock it, Blackheathan"
They sat there for a few minutes together. It had been a while since the two of them had sat down and had a proper chat. John found the drink to hit the spot and preceded to tell the other man that who just responded with a smug 'told you so'.
Greg's phone flashed, he read it and he looked around then sent a text back to the same mystery person he'd been in contact with all night. "So what's up with Sherlock tonight? You two had a barney or something?"
John's inhibitions were nonexistent, he was more than comfortable to talk about this. "Just had an argument about him being a bit more respectful about sleeping times, cleaning, experiments, loud sounds at 3am. You know"
"I do know" he then elaborated. "He lived with me very briefly a few years back. I won't go into detail unless he gives the okay but he was trying to get his life back on track so I gave him a place to stay when he needed it. Didn't exactly go down well with the wife having a drop in junkie, but I could see his potential...even if he couldn't"
"You're a good guy, Greg. He has a lot of people in his life that just want the best for him"
"You included". The officer was quite serious now. "He trusts you, John. In all the time I've known him, and according to his brother, he's never taken to anyone like he's taken to you"
"Right person at the right time I guess" the blond deflected. He seemed to need to get something off his chest. "People constantly say to me how lucky he is that I put up with him but a lot of the time I see it the other way around. I was, I was so lost when I met him". He paused as his throat constricted. "Everything was blank, bland, nothing exciting happened. Then he bursts in with his insane crime scenes and ridiculous cheekbones and suddenly I'm alive again. I don't think I've thanked him enough, I just wouldn't know how to tell him. You know what he's like with emotional things, I think this is just best left unsaid. He should have worked it out anyway, he knows everything about everyone already"
"I don't think it would hurt to tell him. Listen, I'll probably regret saying this to you tomorrow, and you've got to keep it to yourself, but there's a reason I have a bit of Holmes experience now. It's funny how it's happened but-"
"-that's a gin Last Word cocktail with a cherry" a loud voice said to them as the person strode up to their right hand side, although the effect was lessened without a big flapping trench coat.
"It's delicious, would you like a sip?" John offered, Sherlock took the drink, sniffed it and then with a sound of sudden understanding tipped the rest onto the table and slammed the glass down into the puddle. "Hey! What are you-"
He trailed off as Sherlock pointed a finger at Lestrade. "Tell me" he said. "This is an interesting choice of cocktail, Inspector. Hrm? Not a usual choice for a man of your tastes. Oh and there's the little matter of only one person I know drinking it in this exact manner"
"What now?" the older man groaned. "What is this meant to say about me? That I fancied post-punk indie when I was younger? That I had a collie called Billy until I was twelve?"
Sherlock looked at John. "That's a drink Mycroft favours" he explained with the air of revealing the big plot twist of an upcoming blockbuster.
"Anyone could drink that" the doctor shot down in a little as four words.
"Not with a cherry" the tall man continued, undeterred. "Mycroft makes it with a cherry, it appeals to his sweet tooth. He also likes oysters with a sprinkle of sugar and lemon juice, steak with caramelised onions with a dash of brandy and milk with vanilla essence when he can't sleep"
"Sounds delicious" Lestrade responded with a shrug of his shoulders.
"That's all you can say? Sounds delicious? This isn't the first time I've suspected something's going on, Greg". He still sounded suspicious about whether or not that was the other's real name.
At this Joanne and Sally returned to the table holding new drinks. "Greg! You've got a cherry in your drink too! They're putting them in everyones, yours is the sixth we've seen". At this they take a sip, then see John's and take another mouthful with a giggle. "We've made it into a drinking game, a sip for every one we see. They seem to have a lot of them!".
What they didn't know was the only reason the bar was putting them on all the cocktails now was because Greg's order made them open a can of the fruit and they didn't want them to go to waste. If the world's only consulting detective wasn't already so distracted he would have worked this out for himself.
"Well, Sherlock. You can apologise any time you like".
The detective barked a humourless 'ha' and scowls at the groups of people around them, suddenly there were little red shapes in glasses everywhere.
"Well, back to the meals you said your brother likes, I wouldn't turn that down if someone cooked it up for me" the doctor confessed.
"Yes, you should talk to him about food sometime, he'd find it riveting. Perhaps give you a Knighthood for Services to the Greater Public Interest"
"Maybe I'm living with the wrong Holmes?" John joked, trying to diffuse the situation with humour but going the wrong way about it. "Perhaps I can ask him to kidnap me to a nice restaurant next time, one with candles?" he flashed a grin to the greying DI who began to look increasingly uncomfortable.
"That's not even remotely funny, John" Sherlock snapped, looking strangely serious which was lost of the two who'd been drinking all night.
"No, sounds good to me" the shorter one continued, thinking the change in topic to something ludicrous would calm his flatmate down "I bet he'd keep the place tidy, there'd be good food and drink, no dead bodies in the fridge, wouldn't keep me up with playing violin-"
"-Mycroft plays a variety of music through his audiophile level speakers at all hours of the day. The rule is not to disturb him, even between movements. It's mostly what you would call 'Classical' but actually ranges over a number of different time periods. There basically isn't any food in the house, he relies on his assistant for most of his daily sustenance and most meals are taken 'out', so if you want 'good food and drink' you'd be up for a huge bill. He also ranges between feast and famine so you'll either be dragged to restaurants when you want a night in or have to find your own food and eat it away from him unless you want an argument on your hands. The place will be tidy but it's usually because his houses are under-used and also devoid of much personality so as to prevent people from deducing much about him. There are also constant security sweeps so the less bulk there the better. I've already mentioned that he is rarely at his premises but when he is he sleeps about as well as I do which seems at odds with his inherent laziness. I like to think that he sleeps less than average to leave time for being idle. So, in summary, you would be no better off spending time with Mycroft".
Greg and John sat in silence. The elder man's eyes were wide and he seemed to be running through each comment in his mind to test its validity. This went on until John said in a stunned tone. "Sherlock I was joking, just joking. Calm down. You know I'm kidding about Mycroft. There's no need to be, to sound so-"
"-well if it isn't Mycroft, maybe you'd prefer to go and live with 'Amy'?" he said the name as though it were an offensive swear word. On a roll, he was looking more and more like he did as he explained in front of the fireplace at the Cross Keys B&B that he had actually seen the hound of Baskerville. "Let's see, shall we? She's about nine years younger than you, despite her hinted promises she's quite sexually inexperienced. She lives with her engaged older sister in a small flat just outside Soho, been single for around three to four years with a penchant for older men. By the way she thinks you're a few years younger than you actually are, mistakenly determining you're around my age but 'hardened' from the war. Thinks she's up for 'it' tonight but would back out after some kissing and light touching, would want to keep up the association to get a relationship out of it. Doesn't understand that she is desperate to have the life her sister has. Well off you go, John. Go and get her. She's young and desperate, off you go. You were very interested before".
John sits without a word. After around a of minute of stunned silence he stands up and puts on his jacket. It shows how much this has shocked him that his temper lies dormant. Lost for words he nods then turns to his friend. "I think it's time to go home".
Sherlock snorts. "Off you go then".
John reaches out and grabs his forearm and quietly implores "Come and get a taxi with me and we can have a chat". He looks up to Sherlock and is surprised at the hurt he sees there that's quickly masked. "I was just joking..." John murmurs more to himself.
The taller brunet pulls his limb out of the other's grip. "I'm going to have another drink and then go for a walk. Goodnight, John".
Greg coughs, stands awkwardly and indicates to a spot away from them. "I'm going to, ah, night fellas".
Sherlock ignores this. "I said goodnight".
"I know you did. Just come outside with me for a minute then you can interrogate Lestrade. I know you want to".
"I don't know why I'm so angry, John" the younger one states, looking a little vulnerable. He wouldn't make eye contact, just watched out over the top of other man's head.
"I don't know either. I've had a bit too much to drink, I think. I didn't realise until now that I'm standing, I must have baited you too and gone too far without realising it. My fault. Let's go". John looks up to see Lestrade and Stamford facing them and talking at a distance, concern on their faces. The DI with his phone out texting again, this time with a serious expression.
"Get a taxi. I'll be home later" he instructs then a moment later he's turned on his heel and is moving away.
"Sherlock" the blond calls out after the man but he sweeps off into the crowd towards the bar.
"Hey, John. Are you going to come and have a dance?"
"What?" he turns to see Amy there. "Oh, it's you. Hi. No, listen I've got to head off. I'll probably see you at the station sometime". He begins to leave.
"That's it?"
"Yeah, see you later". He turns a bit and sees her disappointed face, behind her he catches a glimpse of Greg and Mike watching him carefully and still obviously talking about the two of them.
John gets a taxi fairly easily, missing the black luxury car on the opposite side of the road pull up in case it's needed, and spends the next few hours staring at the telly not really paying too much attention. At around 1:30am he hears footsteps and from his armchair sees Sherlock come into his line of sight and stand awkwardly near the table.
"John I am going to speak and you need to...I would like you to listen" he was being formal, his speech carefully controlled. "Stamford and Lestrade informed me that I should have my say with no interruption and then you may do the same".
John nodded his agreement to the terms.
"Our discussion today involving how I was letting you down as a flatmate made me realise that I enjoy living with someone, more particularly I enjoy living with you, John, and that even though you intend to stay here for now it has remained fairly unspoken between us that this may not always be the case. You show an ongoing interest in developing relationships with women and I believe you will continue to do this as you have shown no inclination to stop these activities. Your blatant wooing of PC Amy Matthews, my apparent incorrect assumption about Lestrade and my brother and your words led me to acting out in a way that was not befitting of me or our relationship. So, I wish to apologise for the way in which I spoke to you and hope that this doesn't change anything between us. I have grown...accustomed to your presence and it would sadden me if you chose to end our association. I am not sure why I acted as I did, however both Stamford and Lestrade feel as though there is a variable which I do not yet fully comprehend that affected my judgement. They said perhaps time will assist in working out what that variable is. Again please take my apology with the heartfeltness in which I give it".
John looked shocked. "Oh God, Sherlock, look at us. I'm going nowhere. Of course I want to get married and have kids but that's not going to happen next week and it's not going to be with PC Matthews. Let's just say sorry and forget this ever happened, yeah? I'm a bit scared at how far this has gone. Who else knows?"
The brunet began to visibly relax. His shoulders lowered and he stopped tapping his fingers together by his sides. "Apology accepted. The only two that know have been mentioned already, the others didn't hear a thing. Lestrade and Stamford have been sworn to secrecy".
John stood and took a couple of steps towards his friend who took a half step forward when John opened his arms. The doctor gave Sherlock a stiff half hug, Sherlock patted the man on the shoulder then brought another arm around him lightly which he tightened after realising he enjoyed this physical contact. After a few moments John let go and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water to take to bed. "But I still meant what I said about taking out the rubbish once in a while, just because we hugged doesn't mean what I said about being tidier doesn't count".
A small smirk flashed on the detective's face but was quickly smothered. "Well I suppose I could try to pick up after myself a little more. And keep the violin to daylight hours, not during cases though".
"Well I can live with some small improvements for now". The mood in the room had warmed and things seemed to be back to normal. "We're idiots, you know".
"Speak for yourself" Sherlock said, although John couldn't see his face as the man was starting up his laptop, he could hear the humour in his voice. All was well again.
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A/N: This chapter ended up with more angst than was originally intended but I think it needs to go to that level for it to have its proper effect on the rest of the story. Also it's the longest so far, longer than the first two chapters combined.
The music facts for the trivia night were taken from Wikipedia as were the details for the Last Word gin cocktail. John playing for Blackheath is from his blog.
As always comments/feedback are greatly appreciated. This story is halfway through now and it would be great to hear what your thoughts are :)
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