A/N: Some OT3 fluff. Trying to get some more fluff under my belt. My beta reader prompted me with "Jelly Babies" and this is what I came up with.

Greg yawned as he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Baker Street, he noted. So he had ended up at John and Sherlock's the previous night. Not that he minded, of course. He quite enjoyed the many nights he spent curled up with one or two of his partners. Blearily he scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the hand continuing upward to run through his hair. He froze as he encountered a lump. Gingerly he continued, examining the lump suspiciously. It was soft and squishy - promising, albeit a bit frightening. With Sherlock in the house, soft and squishy wasn't nearly as reassuring as it should be. There was some powder on the lump.

A yawn next to him distracted him from his mission and he glanced over, a smile on his lips as John turned over next to him. Warm blue eyes met Greg's in a shy smile. Abruptly the smile disappeared and John blinked, slowly pushing himself up on his shoulder. Greg sighed. "I know," he told the military doctor.

"Whassat?" John asked, leaning towards him, his sleepy eyes curious.

"I have no idea," Greg responded fervently. "Could be anything." His eyes flickered to the door and John's eyes followed. Sherlock was the most likely culprit of anything odd that ended up anywhere on the two. John was waking up and he scooted closer. Greg couldn't help but shiver as it brought their chests into close proximity and John shot him a smirk. "Bastard."

"Mm, yet you sleep here anyways." John chuckled and gently probed the sugary mass on Greg's head. "I think it's a Jelly Baby."

"Sherlock," Greg said with a scowl. "Bloody hell. I thought we cured him of eating sweets in bed."

"So did I." John sat up slowly, stretching sleepy limbs before he scooted closer, tugging at Greg until his head was in his lap. There was a knock on the door and both men looked up to see it open. Sherlock was standing there, a small pair of scissors in his hand. Cautious eyes flickered from Greg to John in turn before John patted the side of the bed, indicating that he was to come join them. Greg felt the bed shift from where he was sitting as Sherlock slid onto it in a fluid motion. He watched John take the scissors from Sherlock and tilted his head slightly to allow John better access to the lump in his hair.

"Sherlock, c'mere." Greg patted the spot next to him and Sherlock crossed his legs, sitting not far from Greg. His head was downcast and he seemed reluctant to make eye contact with either of them. John's hands were reassuring on Greg's head as he tilted it this way and that. "John, what are you doing?" Greg asked, good-natured. His attention was drawn away by Sherlock when the taller man lifted his head defiantly to meet Greg's eyes. He seemed reluctant and hesitant, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

"Shut up and stop moving unless you want me to cut your head off," John retorted, his fingers gentle.

"I thought you were supposed to be a surgeon." John rolled his eyes at Greg's joke, a grin on his face. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" He slipped his hand into the detective's, twining the fingers easily. "Neither of us are mad at you, promise." Sherlock stared at him as if assessing the truthfulness of what he said. The relationship between the three of them was an odd one, yet it worked for them nonetheless. John and Sherlock lived together and Lestrade spent far more time at 221B Baker Street than he did at his own flat. Sherlock had mentioned selling Greg's flat (as Greg didn't use it anyway). It was a surprising suggestion, coming from him. Of the three of them, Sherlock had been the most hesitant about their relationship.

Neither man had been wholly surprised to discover that, while Sherlock wasn't a virgin, he had never maintained a romantic relationship. For his first to be a polyamorous one (albeit a closed relationship) must have been a surprise even to him. For all that he was so confident in many areas in his life, their relationship was one he still treated as if it was going to break the moment he did something wrong. It was heartbreaking to witness and John and Greg did the best that they could to stem any fragility that came their way. They allowed Sherlock to set the limit for how physically demonstrative their relationship was - or at least the part of their trio that included him.

If, some nights, it ended up with Greg and John snuggled up in John's bed and Sherlock downstairs pouring over a case, that was alright. Other nights Sherlock ended up there with them, the trio together and comfortably warm. Sometimes Sherlock would deign to sleep with John while Greg was out, sometimes he would accompany Greg to his flat and stay there. The flexibility their relationship afforded them was immense and the men adored it. For John, the advantage of having a second person to temper Sherlock's moods was vast.

There was a snipping sound above Greg's head and he had to restrain himself from flinching. "Sorry about that," John said cheerfully. Sherlock lifted his and Greg's combined hands, pressing a kiss to the knuckles in an apology. Greg stared at him, his eyebrows raised.

"Have you been reading romance novels again?" he asked Sherlock suspiciously. The light flush on the alabaster cheeks was enough of a confirmation and Greg's lips twitched in a barely-concealed grin.

"Hmph. Boring." Sherlock hopped off the bed and twirled around, storming petulantly out the door.

"That's much more effective when he's not in his pyjamas," John chuckled, his hands deft and gentle in Greg's hair. Another few snips and Greg felt John lift his hands away, the clump going with it. "There we go." He ruffled Greg's hair affectionately before he leaned down and kissed his forehead. "We'll have to check the bed next time."

"On the bright side," Greg smirked, "It was in my hair this time." John groaned.

"We're definitely checking the bed before we have sex." John flopped back on the bed, Greg's head still in his lap.

"You mean you didn't enjoy melted jelly babies in your pubic hair?" Greg asked innocently. John growled and slipped out from behind Greg, stalking down the bed to claim his mouth. The two men kissed in a battle for dominance and John won, having pinned Greg to the bed. Greg was panting heavily - John was an excellent kisser. and could reduce both Greg and Sherlock to puddles of goo. "He's quiet out there," Greg remarked between heavy breaths.

John sighed. "Better go see what he's up to. And raid his snack stash again."

Greg nodded his agreement. "Sometimes I'm surprised there are still Jelly Babies left in the world, the way Sherlock eats them." John grinned at him and got up, grabbing Greg's dressing gown and tossing it to him before he strode out the door to the kitchen. A smile on his face, Greg slipped his own on and followed John out to face the day.