When Greg came home that night, after Sherlock had called him to say there was a bomb that needed dismantling, Greg immediately knew that there was someone in his home.
His first instinct was to grab for his phone to call for backup, but then he saw the familiar coat hanging on the coat rack. Greg sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't in the mood to deal with the sulking detective tonight. Sherlock hadn't come over for nearly a year now, Greg really didn't need him to start coming over again, before stopping again when he found someone more interesting. Greg had only just learnt to deal with being alone.
But then Sherlock appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, with two steaming mugs in his hands. He looked dishevelled. Greg knew he couldn't turn the other man away when he looked like that, so he accepted on of the mugs and steered Sherlock, with a hand on his elbow, to the couch. Sitting down next to the younger man, he turned on the television. Neither of them spoke, as always it wasn't needed between them.
Greg could see that Sherlock was obviously shaken by the events at the pool. Greg didn't need to know what had happened. Not yet anyway, tomorrow he would ask his questions, when they were back at Scotland Yard and Greg needed to fill out his report.
For now they would just sit there, watching the telly and letting it distract them. Suddenly Greg felt Sherlock push his leg against Greg's. That hadn't happened before. Sherlock was usually very careful not to touch Greg. Or anyone for that matter. But Greg knew better than to say anything about it, knowing that Sherlock would pull back into his shell if he questioned it, hell even if he just mentioned it. When Sherlock had first started coming over his wife had questioned Sherlock about it. It had taken Greg 3 weeks to convince Sherlock that it really was no bother if he came over, and just as long to convince his wife that it wasn't.
Greg had noticed often that Sherlock avoided another's touch, he didn't know why that was, and really, as long as Sherlock didn't tell him, Greg wouldn't ask. He knew John would, if he had noticed, but since Sherlock still kept bringing him to crime scenes, Greg figured he hadn't noticed. John really didn't know when to keep his nose out of another's business.
So Greg just let his leg rest against Sherlocks, not mentioning it, and when he got up to go to bed, he didn't mention it when Sherlock squeezed his hand, like he had done all those times they had watched television together before.
The next morning, Greg was surprised that Sherlock hadn't left yet. He really didn't expect him to still be there, Sherlock must have been more shaken up then he had thought. So he silently made breakfast for the two of them, while Sherlock made coffee. They quickly fell back into the routine that they had had before John came along. It made Greg's heart skip a beat, hopeful that it meant that Sherlock would come over again. Greg quickly squashed that hope, he was no more ready then the night before to deal with the loneliness when he didn't. He'd just wait and see.