The Awful Truth About the Names
"Seriously," Lestrade grumbles one late-night outing to a pub with John. "I think it must have something to do with the syllables."
John blinks blankly at him because that statement had clearly come out of the blue and John has no idea what his drinking partner means. "Sorry, what?"
Lestrade fixes him with a look. "The annoying people's name syllabo-meter, see?" But, John doesn't see. In fact, in this case you may say he had absolutely no idea in which direction to look. Lestrade holds up the hand that is not closed around his half-emptied pint. "John." he lifts his pointer finger so that it's almost pointing at John. "One syllable. Not bad at all."
His tongue almost twists itself on the 'syllable' but neither men were bothered, mostly because John is beginning to become curious as to what Lestrade is trying to explain to him and Lestrade himself hasn't even noticed the slip.
"Okay." John sips his beer. "Following you so far."
Lestrade then points to himself with the same finger previously pointed at John. "Greg. Again, one syllable." This time, he sounds more sober. Then, he lifts a second finger so he's making a 'peace' sign. "Sherlock and Mycroft. Two syllables. Just a little more annoying."
John promptly chokes into his drink because now he gets where Lestrade is going with all this. He puts his drink down and lifts his own hand. "'Sally' is two syllables, too." he points out.
"But I call her 'Donovan' Do-no-van, three syllables. That makes her about on par with 'An-der-son'." The two grown men begin giggling.
"And 'Se-bast-ian'." John chimes in.
"Mo-ri-ar-ty!" The two chant simultaneously and erupt into a fit of - in all honesty - girly giggles.
"How you two can find a criminal mastermind's name so amusing will forever be a mystery to me." Sherlock's condescending tone broke through the drunken haze causing Lestrade and John to jump.
"Sher-lock!" John whines, like stressing the syllables of the clueless man's name will somehow convey how annoying he was currently being.
"You're drunk, John." Sherlock declares astutely, then he turns swiftly to Lestrade. "I've got the identity of your killer."
Lestrade blinks at him blearily because - other than Sherlock - who would expect him to arrest someone when he was piss drunk and more liable to be the one arrested. "Right..." he offers unsurely.
Sherlock rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "For God's sakes, Lestrade! I've already got evidence against your killer and his confession, I just need you to slap handcuffs on him and not embarrass yourself more than you usually do."
"Sorry, 'his confession'?" Lestrade seemed quite slow on the uptake. "Thought you suspected the killer to be female."
"It was just speculation. The killer's name is Emiliano Hearn and..."
"E-mi-li-a-no!" John crows gleefully at Lestrade. "Sounds awful!"
"Shut up, John!" Lestrade whines back without malice. Being drunk apparently didn't justify being unprofessional. Then his phone began ringing.
"It's probably Mycroft." he vaguely heard Sherlock humming boredly at him.
He accepts the call grimly, Sherlock took that moment to inquire what was with all the name recitals. John just shrugs and continues downing his drink.
"Oh-... haha, very funny. Okay." Lestrade hangs up and turns back to them with a smile. "Emiliano's already down in a cell at the station and Mycroft's got a few officers taking over the proceedings." he then grins at John over his glass.
"He also stressed 'Gre-go-ry'. He and John erupt into giggles once more much to Sherlock's annoyance.
Because really, who knew Mycroft Holmes had a sense of humor?
... Also, who knew Mycroft Holmes called DI Lestrade 'Gregory'?
THE END
A/N: Just wondering what John and Lestrade would talk about when they go out drinking. Don't mind me...