Dinner for idiots
Lestrade and Mycroft have a date. Mycroft cancels. John joins and Lestrade orders everything off the menu in spite. Lots of fancy wine included.
Drunken hilarity commences
A/N- Established relationship for Lestrade/Mycroft and John/Sherlock.
Seriously I don't know what this story is. I couldn't help myself though.
"Then—and then he says 'I'm off the Government needs me!' like fucking Free Willy, can you believe that twat?" Lestrade waved his wine glass for emphasis, sloshing some of the red liquid out of the rim. John doubted that Mycroft used those exact words but dutifully agreed with his friend because he understood that Mycroft could be in fact a big twat and he decided that when he became sober enough he would tell that to his face.
"At least he lets you know when he's cancelling plans." John finished his 4th glass of wine and put in back down with too much force rattling the table.
"I was stuck on a two hour ferry cruise of the Thames because Sherlock forgot to text me that the counterfeiter changed locations." He stabbed at his steak. "They had technical problems, I was stuck on that boat for 5 hours! A child got sick on me!" John chewed angrily on his food.
"Waiter more of this…wine stuff." Lestrade called waving his glass up in the air. The waiter came over with a new bottle and started to pour it in his glass.
"Just leave the whole thing here mate." Lestrade took the bottle from the surprised man and poured it up to the rim and did the same with Johns.
"How much is that stuff?" John peered at the bottle. Its brand was in a different language possibly French maybe Italian. His eyes were unfocused, his head heavy from the alcohol.
"The bloody hell if I know. Mycroft requested it so more than the mortgage of my house."
"You don't own a house." John pointed out taking a gulp of wine. It felt warm as it went down his throat.
"Don't I?" He blinked then furrowed his eyebrows together in profound concentration.
"I don't think so." John decided it was a good idea to make bubbles from his drink. He sputtered when some got up in his nose. Lestrade tried his best to keep the laughter in but his red cheeks puffed out and a chorus of bubbling hysteria exploded. John joined a moment later trying to catch his breath his chest heaving. He was snorting and coughing and completely pissed. His hangover would be hell in the morning. His brain didn't register that there would be a problem with that.
"Of…of all the people in the world…" Lestrade gulped trying to control his breathing. "Why'd it have to be the Holmes?"
John reflected for a moment or at least tried to think of a good reason. It was quite complicated to make rational reasonable sentences after 5 glasses of (what he would soon discover to be) Giacomo Conterno's Barolo Montortino at 900$ a bottle.
He decided on "Because they are geniuses and we are idiots." Lestrade looked down at his entre. John wasn't sure what he ordered but he guessed it to be veal of some sort. John puckered his brow eyeing Lestrade and his sudden lack of banter.
"A toast then Greg!" John decided that keeping a happy Lestrade was better than having a perturbed Lestrade.
"To the Idiots who put up with them." Their glasses clinked together. The ringing vibrated through his fingers.
"To us! Waiter I want to order everything off of this menu right here and another bottle of that fancy wine."
"Cheers." John chugged the rest of his wine. It was mostly a blur after that.
"We…I think we are…we have the smarts." John voice drawled out trying his best to put on his jacket. His arms kept missing the holes of his sleeves every time.
"Too true, too true…we have the brains…just because we can't-" Lestrade hiccupped. His eyes glazed over completely tankered. "-We can't see where…where people live by their leg hair."
John snorted at that and finally managed to maneuver his arms getting his jacket on. He wanted to stand but he doubted his balance would be capable of keeping him upright.
"Doesn't mean we can't…" He paused. "Can't…what's that word Jawn." He waved his hands up in a circular motion trying to get his words sorted.
"Case solve." John helped. Lestrade snapped his fingers giving him a sloppy grin.
"Case solve yes, that doesn't mean we can't case solve." He then stuck his hand into his right jacket pocket trying to find something. John nodded his head in agreement and winced as the world turn slightly horizontal.
"How will you be paying this evening gentlemen?" A host appeared beside them. Startling John so much he nearly keeled over to the floor.
"This." Lestrade slammed a card down on the table. John leaned over the table squinting at the card. It was a gold card.
"That's…"
"Crofties." Lestrade snorted at the nickname he came up with.
"Will it...go through? We had much food." John stood on weak legs as Lestrade moved from his chair. Most of the food went to waste, plates full of uneaten courses. There must have been over 100 meals on the menu. At one point John thought he went around passing the untouched food to waiting guests. Though it was unclear if he did or not.
"I can use it whenever I want." He sniffed feeling offended. The host came back a moment later giving him the card. He gave both of them a judgmental look as John slung his arm around Lestrade so they could maneuver there way around the tables and out the door.
"You're like a trophy wife." John laughed putting his full weight on Lestrade. They stumbled forward a few steps before regaining their balance. Intoxicated with two and a half bottles of expensive wine in there system it was a miracle they didn't walk straight into traffic.
"Mm' not." Lestrade slurred as he shrugged Johns arm off his shoulder. Without a body to lean on he propelled forward falling to his knees. John started to laugh watching as Lestrade tried to pull himself upright off the pavement.
"Shush up you wanker!" He glowered at John who was now leaning against the brick wall of a building holding his stomach in a fit of high pitched giggles. Once he regained air back into his lungs, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. He looked around.
"Where are we?"
Lestrade still tilted on his feet stared blankly down the street. "London."
"Obviously." John tried to copy Sherlocks deep profondo voice.
"Terribly…bad John." Lestrade nose crinkled in annoyance but his eyes though still glazed over had laughter in them.
"Bored." John continued to impersonate Sherlock as they continued their slow journey down London.
"No…it's...it's lower like this." Lestrade cleared his throat. "Bored, bored, Surrounded by idiots. I am a tit." His voice going lower then Johns.
"I keep heads in fridges to make John pissed." John stared down at his feet concentrating on not tripping over them.
"You are pissed though." Lestrade pointed out. John nudged his shoulder trying to look hurt.
"You are too." They managed to walk 2 blocks in the next 30 minutes. By the time they made it home it would be after midnight. If they made it home, they didn't really have any direction and were making no progress with finding a cab.
"Look Jawn look!" He poked John in the side.
"What?" John followed his finger as it pointed to the street. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on one thing but when he did he saw a black car pull up beside them.
"It's Crofties." Lestrade hiccupped and forced John towards the car. It was a surprise that John could even open a car door in the state that he was in but he managed it with Lestrade hanging off his left side.
"Fancy seeing you here Mycroft." Lestrade flirted before plowing into the backseat landing inelegantly onto Mycrofts lap, one leg splayed across the seat and one rested on the floor. John could swear he saw a look of surprise in his expression when Lestrade put his head down on his lap and immediately passed out in contentment and alcohol but it was gone so quickly and replaced with an eyebrow raise of slight amusement he couldn't be so sure.
"Evening John, seems like you two had quite an enjoyment." Mycroft commented absently. His attention not directed to John as it was to the inspector sleeping in his lap. John held his tongue about calling Mycroft a twat deciding through the haze and buzzing of his head that he was a tad jealous of John. It could be the wine that made him think that because the thought of Mycroft being at all green-eyed with John was on a whole new level of absurdity.
"Do get in John. I'd rather you not pass out on the sidewalk." Mycroft motioned with a tilt of his head.
"Ta." John climbed in and leaned back against the leather seat. It felt cool against his heated back. The drive to Baker Street was silent aside from the small snores coming from Lestrade.
"Ah…" John started. Mycroft didn't bother with a response to that. He was sure he wanted to tell Mycroft something but he couldn't wrap his brain around what he was going to say.
"Mmm" He frowned giving up on it. His head couldn't take anymore processing so he watched Mycroft as his looked calmly out the side window. His left hand laid gently on lestrades back.
"Ah." John then remembered just before he shut the car door when they reached 221B.
"Mycr…My…"He paused and rubbed his eyes. Surely he couldn't have forgotten Sherlock's brothers' name.
"Ah Mycrosoft, we may or may not have spend money on fancy wine." He grinned feeling great accomplishment of identifying Mycrofts name. Mycrofts lips formed a grim line as John slammed the door.
17 steps. 17 steps to the flat. Another 10 to his bed room. It felt like he was climbing Mount Everest. Without snowshoes or with snowshoes but instead of snow it was molasses. He wanted tea but he also wanted to sleep. First he had the challenge of getting up these steps. If he were 10 years younger this would have been much easier. His shoulder started to pain and he leaned against the railing keeping balance. It took some prestige patience and momentum but he finally managed to reach the top of the stairs wobbling into the living room. John wasn't surprised that Sherlock was still in the same spot he was in before Greg called John out 4 hours ago. Stretched out on the couch straight as a board John kept thinking he looked like a mummy in that position. He was even motionless like one. His eyes were closed and his hands were intertwined together resting on his chest.
'Ah' John thought through a woven fog of Barolo in his system. 'I'm going to pounce on that'