The Opposite of Afterglow, Redux
Title: The Opposite of Afterglow, Redux
Author: Ella Jane (
roquentine)
Word Count: ~680
Rating: PG, barely
Pairing: Kind of Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Lestrade. Kind of.
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Sequel to: The Opposite of Afterglow. (Prompt: "Sherlock. John. Mycroft. Lestrade. One bed.") You may want to give that a quick read first. In checking the date of the old one, I appear to be posting these at the rate of one a year.
PSA: Light text on a dark background can spoil afterglows of all sorts. Click here to read in your own LJ format.
* * * * *
This time, in bed, from left to right: Mycroft, Lestrade, John, Sherlock.
Lestrade: I simply do not understand why this keeps happening.
Sherlock: Hormones?
Mycroft: We are none of us nineteen.
John: Insanity?
Lestrade: That sounds right.
Sherlock: It's nice, though.
John: What, insanity?
Sherlock: No, this. Shove over.
John: See, I told you, there's no room.
Sherlock: There's plenty of room...
John: ...no there's not...
Sherlock: ...if you would just...
Mycroft: BOYS.
Maneuvering ensues. Finally John sits up and Sherlock slides down around him, settling his head on the sheets covering John's middle. John's hand threads his hair. Sherlock closes his eyes.
Lestrade (thoughtfully): Maybe if we stopped playing bridge...
Mycroft: This isn't happening because we play bridge.
John: Really? Because so far, every time we've played bridge...
Mycroft: Post hoc, ergo propter hoc.
Three of the four men groan.
Lestrade: Oh, God help me.
Mycroft: It's Latin.
John: No kidding.
Mycroft: "After it, therefore because of it." It's a logical fallacy.
Sherlock (into the sheets): No one cares.
Mycroft: Just because one thing follows the other doesn't mean it was caused by the other.
Lestrade (quietly): Stop showing off, love.
Sherlock (loudly): He can't help it.
John: Must be a Holmes thing.
Sherlock: I heard that.
John (leaning over Sherlock): Damn. I thought with my mouth being a whole twelve inches from your ear...
He kisses Sherlock's head affectionately.
Lestrade: Still, I think I've gone off bridge.
John: That's just because we lose.
Lestrade: Which is just because they cheat.
Sherlock: Oi! Mycroft: Of course we don't cheat.
Lestrade: Well, not cheat, exactly, but...
John: All you have to do is look at each other and you know what cards the other one is holding.
Sherlock: That's not cheating.
John: You're right. It's not cheating. It's just... really weird. Next time, we switch partners.
Sherlock (smirking): We've already done that.
Lestrade: Bridge partners.
Sherlock and Mycroft: No.
Lestrade: Why not?
Sherlock: We... don't play well with others.
John (rolling his eyes): All evidence to the contrary.
Lestrade: Fine, then no more bridge.
A brief pause.
Mycroft (pensively): Tennis?
Sherlock (quickly): No.
John: There's an idea.
Lestrade: Tennis might work.
Sherlock: No.
John (sighing): Now what's your problem?
Mycroft: He can't play.
Sherlock (looking up): That is completely untrue.
Mycroft: Fine. He can't play well.
Sherlock: ....
John: Ah. So, tennis, then?
Sherlock (burrowing back into John's lap): No.
Lestrade (to John): That might just solve our problem.
John (nodding in agreement): We'd be outside...
Sherlock: ...no...
Lestrade: Nowhere near this bed...
Sherlock: ...no...
John: And we'd be tired afterward.
Sherlock: ...NO.
Mycroft (working his Blackberry): I can get us court time at my club, looks like Thursday, seven o'clock. Does that work for everyone?
John: Sure. Lestrade: Yeah, I think so. Sherlock: NO.
John (quietly, to Sherlock): Don't make a fuss. (to everyone): We'll be there.
Sherlock: Fine, but only if I'm on Mycroft's side.
John and Mycroft and Lestrade: No.
Sherlock: But...
John: Shush. You'll play with me, and we'll lose, and you'll live.
Lestrade: I like the sound of that.
Mycroft (shutting off his Blackberry): We're all set.
Sherlock: (petulantly): Isn't it time for you to go?
Mycroft (turning to settle against Lestrade's back): No, no meetings tomorrow.
Sherlock throws the covers back in dramatic fashion, gets up, looks expectantly at John.
John (innocently): Yes?
Sherlock: Let's go.
John: I'm sorry?
Sherlock: There's too many people in this bed.
John: Not now, there isn't.
John starts to settle in. Sherlock stands, stares, sighs.
Sherlock (flatly): Fine. Okay. Fine.
John: Fine, okay, fine, what?
Sherlock: I'll play tennis.
John: You will?
Sherlock: Yes, of course.
John: With me as your partner?
Sherlock: Absolutely. I'm looking forward to it. Can't wait. Let's go.
John looks at him with suspicion, then shakes his head and gets up. Good nights are exchanged as Sherlock and John exit into the corridor.
Mycroft (calling after them): Oh, and Sherlock?
Sherlock's voice: Yes?
Mycroft: No fabricated crime scenes at 6:45 on Thursday, please.
A brief pause.
Sherlock's voice: Bollocks.
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