"Did you see the way Greg looked at your brother?"
Sherlock glanced up from the laptop, his hands hovering above the keys as he frowned at John.
"What?"
John let out a small sigh and folded the newspaper in his lap. For somebody as irritatingly observant as Sherlock, he really could be dim sometimes.
"Greg? Your brother?" John raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you didn't notice!"
"John." The single word showed that Sherlock was unimpressed at the insinuation that he had missed anything, let alone something important.
The sigh John emitted this time was longer and laced with a combination of frustration and pity. He licked his lips and, putting the paper down on the side table, leaned towards Sherlock with his elbows resting on his knees.
Sherlock, for his part, closed the laptop lid and, placing it onto the desk, sat back in the armchair.
"There was clearly something between them." John began, ignoring Sherlock's attempt to interrupt. "Greg couldn't keep his eyes off Mycroft, and Mycroft... I've never seen your brother blush that colour before."
John paused to give Sherlock the opportunity to inject. An opportunity which Sherlock, for once, did not take.
"You're telling me you honestly didn't see it?"
Sherlock seemed to be mulling over his reply before speaking. The moment of hesitation itself was of concern to John who was far more used to Sherlock just "coming out with it".
"John. I'm sure that, if there was something between Lestrade and my brother, I, of all people, would know about it."
"Right. Yes. What was I thinking?" John let out a short, barking laugh.
"You're mocking me." Sherlock stated, rolling his eyes skyward and crossing his arms defiantly.
"Fine." John mirrored the eye-roll and stood, turning towards the kitchen. "Tea?"
Sherlock grunted and stretched his long legs out, almost kicking John's chair with his feet as he steepled fingertips against his mouth thoughtfully.
He thought back to the crime scene they had left only an hour earlier. He remembered John tackling their suspect to the ground and pinning him there until the police could arrive. He remembered Donovan and Anderson and their inane banter as they exited their cars. He remembered Lestrade cuffing their suspect and bundling him into the police van. He remembered Mycroft standing next to his ridiculously oversized car as Anthea handed a file to Lestrade.
What was he missing? He hadn't noticed anything unusual in the exchange between the two men. He hadn't particularly noticed any 'exchange' at all.
"It's bothering you, isn't it?"
John placed a mug of tea down on Sherlock's side table and sat with his own, cradling it in his hands.
Sherlock ignored both the question and the tea, still running over the events from the scene in his mind. Lestrade hadn't even spoken to Mycroft. How could there have been anything between them?
John shook his head and blew across the top of his tea. He took a long sip of the steaming hot brew and placed it down on his own table, pulling his mobile phone from his pocket as he sat back against the armchair again.
He pulled up Greg's number and typed in a message.
So, you and Mycroft? JW
"Don't do that!"
Sherlock's voice made John jump slightly in his seat.
"Do what?"
Sherlock sighed loudly, tipping his head sideways in admonishment.
"Don't be obtuse, John."
John's phone buzzed in his lap, making him jump again. He suddenly felt like a naughty child.
Sherlock waved his arm dismissively in the direction of John's lap.
"Go on then. See what Lestrade has to say about it."
"Oh, for God's..." John muttered, retrieving the phone from his lap and unlocking it with unnecessary force on the touch screen.
Should have known Sherlock would notice - GL
John smiled, realising that, for once, he had deduced something correctly that Sherlock himself had missed.
Now, how to explain it to his flatmate...