Greg Lestrade was tired. Exhausted. Worn to the bone. John Watson looked the same. Neither had seen Sally since they’d gotten back from MFX-87D yesterday; hopefully she was still sleeping but, no, they wouldn’t have the pleasure. Delegates were pouring into Atlantis, great roves of people representing every relatively-advanced civilization they had ( Read more... )

Sherlock kept his eyes locked on the pair in from of him even as he dipped his not-crisps into some actual vinegar, nibbling the wet end. Rodney looked grumpy as always after the weekly department head meeting, downing bad coffee by the gallon-full, stuffing improbable amounts of food as Colonel Sheppard snatched bits of the head scientist’s food ( Read more... )

 
( Mycroft stumbled somnambulantly through his door, exhausted. )

Day six, seven, eight and nine involved various sweets. Apparently Greggie had a sweet tooth to rival Mycroft's. He was going to take advantage of that. And Lestrade accepted all of them, which made Mycroft preen. ...Of course, they were delivered by grocers, still wrapped, because otherwise Lestrade wouldn't trust them.

Day ten was sort of a shot ( Read more... )

 
(  Sherlock collapsed backwards into his chair, smiling. “Once again, high-functioning sociopath.” )

 
( 5+1 )

 
( John blinked in surprise when he turned to see D.I. Lestrade drop into the seat next to him, clinking two lagers onto the bar. )

 
( At first he had been watching Sherlock, waiting for one of those sudden monumental breakthroughs as the man stood in still, thoughtful silence. By the detective’s request he had shut the lights. )

 
( “Hey. I love you.” )

 
( John felt a headache coming on, moving just ahead of Rodney as the scientist stared into space as he talked, mouth speedy and expressive, miraculously avoiding walking into walls. )