16 Months since the Breakup
3 Months after John
Greg woke with a body tucked against him, his arms wrapped around it. The man didn't stir, snoring softly. It was one of those rare days, that both he and Will both had the day off. Greg pulled the covers up over them both more and snuggled closer. Will had woken with all the wiggling, but hadn't moved, happy to be where he was. Greg was just about comfortable enough to fall asleep when his phone buzzed. He ignored it. The Yard would have called him if they needed him to come in.
The phone buzzed again, insistent, and Greg almost groaned. It had to be Sherlock. Greg sighed and kissed Will's shoulder gently as he rolled over to grab it. Will groaned softly, turning over and cracking open an eye to look at him. "Who is it? It's not Sherlock, is it?"
Greg looked down at the texts, both of them from Sherlock. He ran his hands through his hair. "Yes, it is."
"You're not going to go after that pompous arse, are you?"
Greg leaned in, kissing Will softly. "I'm sorry, but he could be in trouble."
"He has Dr. Watson to look after him. He shouldn't rely on you so much anymore."
Lestrade stiffened a bit and crawled out of bed, gathering up some clothes. "Well, he may need a police officer, not a doctor."
Will sighed and flopped back down onto the bed. "Just be sure that you take your badge, or we'll have the same incident over at the Yard as we did a few weeks ago. It's much more confusing when they call you D.I. Dimmock and they call me D.I. Lestrade."
Greg chuckled. "I'll be sure."
"Come back soon. We haven't had a real day off together in three weeks."
"I will, don't worry. Just popping in to check on Sherlock, and then leaving."
Will sighed again, "I love you."
"I love you too."
Sherlock chuckled and put his phone down on the nightstand as he crawled out of bed, stretching. Lestrade would be there in about 43 minutes, if you adjust for the traffic. John was still out, even though it was about eight in the morning.
Sherlock got dressed and sat down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Lestrade would be so angry to find out that Sherlock had called him there for no reason. That was half the fun, if not predictable. It also pulled Lestrade away from Dimmock for just that bit longer, and also drove just a bit of a wedge between them. How could it not? Dimmock would be jealous; Lestrade was at the beck and call of Sherlock, Lestrade's ex-lover. How could he not be jealous?
Although, Dimmock had lasted this long with Lestrade. Seven months now, impressive. The others hadn't have lasted more than two months, at the most. Dimmock was dealing very well with his lover dropping everything to come to Sherlock whenever Sherlock asked. That anything Sherlock wanted from Lestrade, Lestrade would give him.
That Lestrade still loved Sherlock, that Lestrade would always love Sherlock.
The door to 221B flew open and Lestrade ran up the stairs, opening the door and sighing in relief to find Sherlock lounging on the couch. Sherlock almost smirked; Lestrade was relieved to find him safe.
"I'm here, Sherlock, what do you want?"
Sherlock sat up, looking Lestrade straight in the eyes. "Nothing. Just bored. Do you have any cases?"
There was a beat of silence as Lestrade stared at him. Finally, Lestrade sighed and rubbed his eyes with a hand, but it wasn't an angry gesture. Sherlock frowned. Why wasn't he angry? Lestrade should be furious. Should be yelling!
"You knew I would come, didn't you, Sherlock?"
Sherlock stared at him a bit more. Surprising. His tone wasn't angry, either. Just tired. Tired and sad. He was disappointed? Disappointed at what? Sherlock? Himself?
"Of course I did," Sherlock finally replied, standing up. Lestrade stiffened and his expression hardened. Ah, there it was, the anger. Boring after all. Boring as usual.
"Well, if you don't need anything, I'm going back. I'll see you later, Sherlock. I hope you're happy that you've made Will mad at me. Again." Lestrade turned to go.
"Yes, I am happy about that. Stay."
Lestrade hesitated, looked over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Where's John?"
Sherlock stood up straighter. "Asleep."
"In your bed?"
"Yes."
Lestrade's hands curled into fists. He was furious. Predictable. Boring. "I am not doing this, Sherlock. I am not letting ruin what I have with Will just because you're bored, or God knows why. Especially when you're not even considering being with me again. Goodbye, Sherlock. I'll call you if something comes up."
The flat was silent after the door clicked shut.
End
13 Months after Breakup
First day of John
Lestrade sighed angrily and shoved his phone in pocket. Where was Sherlock? He needed to know what he was up to, where he had run off to! He was infuriating sometimes! Always running off…
Lestrade ran his fingers through his hair. He supposed he should go home. Might as well walk home. It'd save the money and give him time to think.
He was about half way back to his house, and he turned into an alleyway as a shortcut. He froze, taking in the picture before him.
John was shoved up against the wall, Sherlock's hips pushing against him and keeping him in place. Their lips were glued together, and John's hands were in Sherlock's hair.
And there it was again. That crushing heartache. Lestrade took a deep breath and called out to them. "Oi! Don't you two have a flat you can make out at?"
They both turned to him, faces flushed, lips bright red from the hard kisses. John blushed all the way up to his ears. Sherlock just looked at him.
"Sorry, Detective. We just got caught up…" John apologized. John… John was a good man. But he had been kissing Sherlock. Sherlock!
Lestrade glared at them both, the anger and heartbreak intensifying when he saw the triumphant look in Sherlock's eyes. Of course. That bloody bastard planned it so Lestrade would find him. He had wanted to show him. 'Look at me, Lestrade! I've moved on, but here you are, still lingering over me like you'd ever get me back. Like I'd ever be interested in you again. You're pathetic, you know that?'
"Just go home before I write you up for public indecency." Lestrade finally said, the anger rushing out of him in one breath.
As soon as they were gone, Lestrade touched the spot on the wall that John had been pushed against.
He never did tell Will why his eyes had been so red and his face so blotchy.
Sherlock looked up at Lestrade. His heartbreak, which he was trying so desperately to hide, was painted on his face. Sherlock almost wanted to dance. It had worked. Maybe now Lestrade would realize. Yes, Sherlock didn't want to date him, but Lestrade was his. Not Dimmock's. He'd never be anyone else's. He belonged to Sherlock, all of him. And even though Lestrade was an old toy, Sherlock still didn't share. Lestrade would break up with Dimmock now. Would be alone, but still Sherock's. Always Sherlock's.
Lestrade was frozen for a moment, body screaming anger at Sherlock. But he let it all out, and it was replaced by sadness.
Sherlock glanced back as he and John left, and got to see the first two tears fall.