Sometimes Greg hated his job, utterly loathed it even. There had been a gas-explosion in the city of London, two blocks from Baker street actually. With Jim Moriarty supposedly being back from the dead, it had given him quite a scare for Sherlock Holmes and his companions John and Mary Watson. He still remembered the explosion across the street from 221B, in what John had called The Great Game.
He had been one of the first on scene, because his superiors had figured that Sherlock would show up and they had all learned by now that it was better to just send Greg. Easier in fact, because nowadays Sherlock refused to work with anyone other than Greg. Greg still hadn't figured out if he should be flattered or annoyed. And well, he had been on his way to visit Sherlock, figuring he could maybe help the consulting detective with tracking down Moriarty, so he had been in the near vicinity of the explosion. Hearing it he had made a U-turn toward the explosion, put on his police-radio to figure out where the noise had come from and raced with blaring sirens to the scene, for once glad he had taken a service car.
The scene had been gruesome and the first thought that had gone through many minds was a terrorist attack. It wasn't a big leap after what had happened in Paris last year, and just a couple of weeks ago in Belgium. Thankfully though, Sherlock had arrived only five minutes after Greg, and had ruled it a gas-explosion. Nearly everyone at the scene had sighed in relief, for once thankful for the mad genius' appearance.
Unfortunately the explosion had taken four lives and left 13 people wounded, Sherlock had been there before the first ambulances and had called John in immediately before taking of his Belstaff, getting on his knees next to Greg and helping the DI digging out a man that had gotten part of a wall on top of him. Thankfully the man had made it, though not without a few cracked ribs.
Greg sighed, it had been a long day. Rubbing his eyes he groaned as he mentally went over the press conference he had given about a mile away from the building. Being the person highest in rank he had to answer the many reporters that had shown up. Every single one of them had been convinced it had been foul play, if it hadn't been a terrorist attack. Sure, there hadn't been many leads to what caused the explosion yet, the next couple of days experts would determine the cause, but thankfully Greg had managed to reassure the reporters that it had been in fact a gas-explosion. That both the leading fireman and Sherlock had confirmed this had helped a great deal in calming them down.
After everything had been wrapped up for the day, Greg had contemplated going for a pint in the nearest pub, to try and forgot the four faces that would be forever engraved in his conscious mind, next to all of the other victim's faces he had ever come across, he had decided to just go home, take a well deserved hot shower and try to get some sleep. He'd need his wits about him the next days when he'd investigate the explosion further.
So here he was, stripping himself of his clothing to get into his shower, when he suddenly heard his front door being opened and someone stumbling in. He searched for his phone to call for back up, when he suddenly heard his name being called.
"Greg?" the unmistakeable voice of none other than Sherlock Holmes rang through the apartment. Greg sighed, he wasn't in the mood for the consulting detective tonight. Sherlock usually only came over for either sex or a case. They weren't exactly partners, more like acquaintances with benefits, and Greg was really not in the mood for sex tonight.
He called out anyway. "In the bathroom Sherlock." Figuring he needed a shower anyway, he stepped in and started the water. He heard the other man enter his bathroom, he pulled back the curtain a little to see what Sherlock was up to. When he saw him stripping, Greg sighed. "I'm really not in the mood tonight." he said, even though he enjoyed seeing Sherlock undress himself. There was something sinful about it, seeing the prim and proper consulting detective undressing. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Neither am I." Greg frowned, but welcomed the younger man into the shower anyway, surprised when all Sherlock did, was grab him and bury his face in his neck.
"Hey, you okay?" Greg asked, growing a bit concerned when he pushed Sherlock back a little and saw tears forming in his eyes. Sherlock shook his head. "I will be, just need to be with you, now." Greg smiled a little at the younger man before pulling him back into his arms. He was utterly grateful for Sherlock being here, he needed him as much as the other man needed him it seemed.
How long they had stood there without moving, just holding onto the other man, neither of them knew. They only started moving again when Greg's stomach had startled a laugh out of them both. "Come on, sunshine, turn around and I'll wash your hair and back for you." Obliging Sherlock turned around and after he had been washed, he returned the favour. Greg left the shower first, towelling himself dry while Sherlock enjoyed the hot water a bit more. "I'll reheat us some of the leftover from last night, if you'd like to eat something." Greg said, pulling a fresh pair of pants on.
"I could eat, I suppose." He heard Sherlock mumbling and smiling he went to the kitchen to do just that. A few minutes later Sherlock embraced Greg from behind, where he was watching the food reheating in the microwave. Sherlock put his head on Greg's shoulder and they just stood there, basking in the little comfort that the other one could offer. Greg was rather surprised by the fact that Sherlock needed this much comfort, but he liked it anyway, it was just what he needed after the day they had had.
After dinner they retired to Greg's bed, it being past 10 pm and both being exhausted by the events of the day. Sherlock snuggled into Greg's arms as soon as the DI had found a comfortable position. Kissing the top of the younger man's head, Greg drifted off, soon joined by Sherlock into dreamland.
A/N: Needed a bit of fluff today!