Fanfic: Another man
MESSAGE FROM G. Lestrade
Have a case for Sherlock.
You coming?
“Pass me my phone.”
John laughed - another strange reaction - before getting up and fetching Sherlock’s mobile. He held it out to Sherlock with one hand while holding the other hand alongside with the palm faced upwards.
“Swap?”
Sherlock placed John’s mobile into the upraised hand before snatching his own and reading the message. It consisted of an address. Clearly the text to John was to make sure he went to it. He was almost tempted to turn it down, engrossed as he was in the case of John Watson and the potential boyfriend thief, but he was tempted by the opportunity to observe John’s behaviour outside the flat. Besides, it might be a good idea right now to remind John of how brilliant he was.
“Do you… Do you ever… Do you ever wonder… what he’s doing with you?”
“Sometimes. But then I remember how utterly infuriating the man is and I don’t feel so bad.”
“Good point. Who else would put up with him?”
“They should be grateful they’ve got us."
“Damn right.”
He looked up to tell John they were going out when he was hit in the face with his own coat.
“Coming?”
~
Sherlock was bent over the body examining the thread content of the deceased’s socks when he smelt it again.
Of course he had been aware of the large black car pulling up just beyond the police cordon, but he had ignored it, deciding his brother was not his problem right now. Especially considering the strands of wool around the corpse’s ears. Then Mycroft had moved upwind and Sherlock had been struck by the wafting scent of the same aftershave that had invaded John’s jacket the night before.
He leapt to his feet and marched towards his brother, passing John and Lestrade who were seemingly too distracted in their own quiet discussion to notice him move. Mycroft didn’t react as Sherlock grabbed his jacket and, pulling him down, inhaled deeply.
“Why did John smell of you last night?”
This was impossible. There was no way John had been with Mycroft the night before. Certainly not at the pub, Mycroft had never stepped inside a pub his entire life.
Mycroft tilted his head slightly. “Lestrade’s jacket smelt of John this morning. But I got in rather late, the situation in Mauritius you know.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. Mycroft was well aware he didn’t know and wasn’t interested.
“So it was too faded to tell quite how… intimate… they had been.”
“Five beers at the pub then a handshake shoulder pat hug at the door,” Sherlock said, looking over towards where John and Lestrade were talking.
Lestrade was wearing a broader smile than he usually had at a crime scene and was gesturing wildly as he talked. John had a hand to his mouth, obviously trying to suppress giggles. They were standing closer to each other than usual.
Lestrade had spent the day before at Mycroft’s. So when he got ready to go out he had used Mycroft’s new aftershave. He had then spent the evening with John, had been texting John all morning, and now the two of them were looking very intimate together.
John and Lestrade. No, it couldn’t be.
“The thing is, he tries to keep constant tabs on me, but that’s only because he couldn’t cope without me.”
“Sometimes I wonder how he survived this far on his own.”
“To be fair yours wasn’t doing that well, consulting detecting aside.”
“Well, you’d know.”
“Makes you wonder what mine got up to.”
“Probably the Falklands.”
“He’d be too young, surely?”
“Did you seriously just consider that?”
“When you’ve been with yours as long as I’ve been with mine you won’t put anything past him either.”
Sherlock looked over at Mycroft and saw the slight set of his jaw that indicated deep worry. The brothers walked over to the other two men. John looked up as they approached and grinned cheerfully.
“Mycroft!”
There was no shock in John’s tone. No embarrassment at being caught. No shame in what he was doing. Just genuine joy at seeing them.
“How’s the toe?”
Lestrade spluttered laughter, bending over almost double at the force of it. Mycroft’s mouth fell open a little in shock. Sherlock found his gaze briefly dragged towards his brother’s foot. John just looked extremely pleased with himself in eliciting such a reaction.
“Oath breaker,” Lestrade said accusingly between gasps for breath.
“It wasn’t like we could have kept it secret forever,” John said. “As soon as they got together they were going to figure it out.”
“But you didn’t have to tell him what I said,” said Lestrade. “How would you feel if I told Sherlock you told me about the radiator thing?”
Sherlock gasped involuntarily and John raised his hands defensively.
“Okay, okay, truce.”
“You were talking about us,” said Mycroft. “At the pub.”
Mycroft somehow managed to put enough distaste into the word ‘pub’ to make it sound as if the place was a den of villainy and disease that no one should dare to enter.
“You could have told me your brother was sleeping with Lestrade,” John said to Sherlock. “It was great to be able to talk to someone who understands.”
“Understands what?”
“Life with a Holmes,” Lestrade filled in. “We’re going to make it a regular thing. Wednesday; moan about your Holmes night.”
“You were in a good mood this morning,” Sherlock said.
“Because I had a good time last night. Talking about you.” John took hold of the lapels on Sherlock’s coat and pulled him in for an all too brief kiss. “You are an idiot, you know that? Getting jealous.”
“You could tell.”
“Of course I could tell. As if I could ever cheat on you.”
“It was rather improbable.”
John smiled and kissed him again.
“I’m not sure I approve of you two talking about us behind our backs,” said Mycroft as soon as John released Sherlock.
John and Lestrade turned towards each other, their eyebrows raised.
“Do you want to come?” Lestrade asked.
“We are stuck though, aren’t we?”
“Completely.”
“Worth it though.”
“Oh absolutely.”
“Another drink?”
“Sure.”
“Mycroft? Sherlock?”
“No thank you.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Back in a sec.”
“Mycroft, are you still nursing that Sherry?”
“Hmm.”
“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“I’m certain it is the finest Sherry the ‘Dog and Kettle’ could provide.”
“And are you going to drink water all night, Sherlock?”
“Alcohol is a distraction.”
“Are you… are you taking notes?”
“For later reference.”
“Let me see that. Oh, so you liked the dazzling thing in the room bit, did you?”
“Somewhat.”
“Vain git.”
“Here we go.”
“Cheers, John.”
“Where were we?”
“Completely stuck.”
“Oh right. Now, don’t get me wrong, the sex is great…”
A/N: For more occurrences from Moan About Your Holmes Wednesday check out these cartoons by Mystradedoodles
Have a case for Sherlock.
You coming?
“Pass me my phone.”
John laughed - another strange reaction - before getting up and fetching Sherlock’s mobile. He held it out to Sherlock with one hand while holding the other hand alongside with the palm faced upwards.
“Swap?”
Sherlock placed John’s mobile into the upraised hand before snatching his own and reading the message. It consisted of an address. Clearly the text to John was to make sure he went to it. He was almost tempted to turn it down, engrossed as he was in the case of John Watson and the potential boyfriend thief, but he was tempted by the opportunity to observe John’s behaviour outside the flat. Besides, it might be a good idea right now to remind John of how brilliant he was.
“Do you… Do you ever… Do you ever wonder… what he’s doing with you?”
“Sometimes. But then I remember how utterly infuriating the man is and I don’t feel so bad.”
“Good point. Who else would put up with him?”
“They should be grateful they’ve got us."
“Damn right.”
He looked up to tell John they were going out when he was hit in the face with his own coat.
“Coming?”
~
Sherlock was bent over the body examining the thread content of the deceased’s socks when he smelt it again.
Of course he had been aware of the large black car pulling up just beyond the police cordon, but he had ignored it, deciding his brother was not his problem right now. Especially considering the strands of wool around the corpse’s ears. Then Mycroft had moved upwind and Sherlock had been struck by the wafting scent of the same aftershave that had invaded John’s jacket the night before.
He leapt to his feet and marched towards his brother, passing John and Lestrade who were seemingly too distracted in their own quiet discussion to notice him move. Mycroft didn’t react as Sherlock grabbed his jacket and, pulling him down, inhaled deeply.
“Why did John smell of you last night?”
This was impossible. There was no way John had been with Mycroft the night before. Certainly not at the pub, Mycroft had never stepped inside a pub his entire life.
Mycroft tilted his head slightly. “Lestrade’s jacket smelt of John this morning. But I got in rather late, the situation in Mauritius you know.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. Mycroft was well aware he didn’t know and wasn’t interested.
“So it was too faded to tell quite how… intimate… they had been.”
“Five beers at the pub then a handshake shoulder pat hug at the door,” Sherlock said, looking over towards where John and Lestrade were talking.
Lestrade was wearing a broader smile than he usually had at a crime scene and was gesturing wildly as he talked. John had a hand to his mouth, obviously trying to suppress giggles. They were standing closer to each other than usual.
Lestrade had spent the day before at Mycroft’s. So when he got ready to go out he had used Mycroft’s new aftershave. He had then spent the evening with John, had been texting John all morning, and now the two of them were looking very intimate together.
John and Lestrade. No, it couldn’t be.
“The thing is, he tries to keep constant tabs on me, but that’s only because he couldn’t cope without me.”
“Sometimes I wonder how he survived this far on his own.”
“To be fair yours wasn’t doing that well, consulting detecting aside.”
“Well, you’d know.”
“Makes you wonder what mine got up to.”
“Probably the Falklands.”
“He’d be too young, surely?”
“Did you seriously just consider that?”
“When you’ve been with yours as long as I’ve been with mine you won’t put anything past him either.”
Sherlock looked over at Mycroft and saw the slight set of his jaw that indicated deep worry. The brothers walked over to the other two men. John looked up as they approached and grinned cheerfully.
“Mycroft!”
There was no shock in John’s tone. No embarrassment at being caught. No shame in what he was doing. Just genuine joy at seeing them.
“How’s the toe?”
Lestrade spluttered laughter, bending over almost double at the force of it. Mycroft’s mouth fell open a little in shock. Sherlock found his gaze briefly dragged towards his brother’s foot. John just looked extremely pleased with himself in eliciting such a reaction.
“Oath breaker,” Lestrade said accusingly between gasps for breath.
“It wasn’t like we could have kept it secret forever,” John said. “As soon as they got together they were going to figure it out.”
“But you didn’t have to tell him what I said,” said Lestrade. “How would you feel if I told Sherlock you told me about the radiator thing?”
Sherlock gasped involuntarily and John raised his hands defensively.
“Okay, okay, truce.”
“You were talking about us,” said Mycroft. “At the pub.”
Mycroft somehow managed to put enough distaste into the word ‘pub’ to make it sound as if the place was a den of villainy and disease that no one should dare to enter.
“You could have told me your brother was sleeping with Lestrade,” John said to Sherlock. “It was great to be able to talk to someone who understands.”
“Understands what?”
“Life with a Holmes,” Lestrade filled in. “We’re going to make it a regular thing. Wednesday; moan about your Holmes night.”
“You were in a good mood this morning,” Sherlock said.
“Because I had a good time last night. Talking about you.” John took hold of the lapels on Sherlock’s coat and pulled him in for an all too brief kiss. “You are an idiot, you know that? Getting jealous.”
“You could tell.”
“Of course I could tell. As if I could ever cheat on you.”
“It was rather improbable.”
John smiled and kissed him again.
“I’m not sure I approve of you two talking about us behind our backs,” said Mycroft as soon as John released Sherlock.
John and Lestrade turned towards each other, their eyebrows raised.
“Do you want to come?” Lestrade asked.
“We are stuck though, aren’t we?”
“Completely.”
“Worth it though.”
“Oh absolutely.”
“Another drink?”
“Sure.”
“Mycroft? Sherlock?”
“No thank you.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Back in a sec.”
“Mycroft, are you still nursing that Sherry?”
“Hmm.”
“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“I’m certain it is the finest Sherry the ‘Dog and Kettle’ could provide.”
“And are you going to drink water all night, Sherlock?”
“Alcohol is a distraction.”
“Are you… are you taking notes?”
“For later reference.”
“Let me see that. Oh, so you liked the dazzling thing in the room bit, did you?”
“Somewhat.”
“Vain git.”
“Here we go.”
“Cheers, John.”
“Where were we?”
“Completely stuck.”
“Oh right. Now, don’t get me wrong, the sex is great…”
A/N: For more occurrences from Moan About Your Holmes Wednesday check out these cartoons by Mystradedoodles