John and Sherlock watched the flames dance around their beloved flat. It wasn't burning because of one of Sherlock's crazy experiments or because of some evil villain. No, this time it was natural. One of Mrs. Hudson's scented candles had fell and touched the blinds of the windows. Sherlock and John had been asleep after a horribly long week of chasing after bombers and only noticed that there was a fire when Mrs. Hudson screamed. Now here they are, homeless. John refused to ask his sister if he could stay with her, especially when she started drinking again. Sherlock of course would rather be homeless then stay with his brother Mycroft. All in all they were without a home and Lestrade felt sorry for them. It's not like he had to worry about his wife's reaction to him bring home two men, she didn't live with him anymore after all. How hard could it be to have the two in his flat? Lestrade nodded to himself, making up his mind. He strolled over to the two homeless men, who were yelling at the police men to be careful with their things. The fire looked worse than what it actually was, but it didn't look like it could be properly lived in for a while.
"How are you two doing?" Lestrade bit his tongue, guessing that was a stupid question. They had just lost Baker Street for god's sake! The Blogger Detectives' headquarters!
"Fine," Sherlock grumbled, grabbing his violin from a fireman walking past. The stings were blackened but the instrument seemed to be untouched by the flames.
"Yeah, fine, except for the part where we are minus one home," John grumbled, dusting the soot of his jumper. Lestrade took that as his cue to speak.
"You could stay at my flat until 221 is fixed up," Lestrade offered. Sherlock and John stared at the DI, their faces blank of emotion. He didn't think it was that bad of an idea.
"That's kind of you, Greg, but we don't want to be a burden-"
"Oh shut up, John! The man clearly wants to help, why should we deprive him of that honor?" Sherlock said, wrapping an arm around Lestrade's shoulders.
"Sherlock, what-" Greg watched as John froze as he noticed something from the corner of his eye. "You know what? Never mind. Looks like you've got some new flat mates," John said, pushing Lestrade and Sherlock away from the burning building. Lestrade turned his head, searching for what had changed their minds when he saw a black car pulling up to the flat. The British Government must not be a good host.
short stories of Sherlock and John living with Lestrade in his flat after the horrible accident at 221B. there will be around twenty stories so i'm open for opinions for ideas. if you have an idea let me know and i'll jot it down for a chapter. Thanks!