I really don't regret this. Thank God for Mycroft, the Lion King and the acceptability of crack in the Sherlock fandom. Disclaimer: I do not own the Lion King, most of its parody song, BBC Sherlock or Mycroft's handy dandy binoculars.
Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade were in the conveniently placed bushes (cough, cough PLOT DEVICE cough) as Mycroft pulled a pair of binoculars out of his umbrella, taking a look through the window of 221B. Gregory scratched at his chin, eyebrows furrowed, "Mycroft, what are we doing here?"
"I've suspected something…" He hummed at what he saw and gestured to the window. Music started to play that sounded vaguely familiar to the DI.
Said DI looked at the window and wondered, "Where the hell is that music coming from?" And then there was singing. From Mycroft Holmes.
"I can see what's happening…"
"What?" This was asked more out of the shock of suddenly hearing Mycroft singing, of all things.
"And they don't have a clue…"
"Who?" Mycroft sighed and handed the Detective Inspector another pair of binoculars (from his umbrella, of course), gesturing through the window. The DI spied on John slowly falling asleep on Sherlock's shoulder, Sherlock looking conflicted, uncomfortable and vaguely pleased.
"They're both in love, and here's the verdict now…" Mycroft took one look at the two and tsked, "They'll never say a word."
"Oh." Greg blinked, catching on. "How do you see that?"
"The looks when no one's looking. Sherlock's playing with his hair!" Mycroft pointed and Greg saw it was true, "Betwixt adrenaline hugs and "I'm not gay"s, there's something in the air…"
"Would that be your sanity?" Greg shook his head as Mycroft continued his song, quietly chuckling to himself at some of the words. He briefly contemplated getting out his phone and filming it. It would go viral on YouTube, that's for sure. Or, at least, make amazing blackmail. The Government had transitioned from crouching in the brush and pacing. Somehow, Sherlock and John seemed oblivious to the show-tune happening right outside their living room.
"Can you feel the gay tonight?
The homo lust it brings.
And maybe soon they'll realize it
And go do boyfriend things."
And suddenly, Greg could hear Sherlock and John's thoughts. Their thoughts. Which were also in song. God, maybe whatever Mycroft had was infectious.
"So many things to tell him,
But how to make him see?
The truth about my sexuality…
He'll never speak to me."
"There's something that he's hiding,
That I can't seem to deduce.
Why won't he see through the façade?
John, I'm bloody gay."
Greg nearly broke into laughter as he waited for the grand finale. Maybe Mycroft would end it in some flowery way, singing something like how he's happy for his brother. Maybe he'll burst into loud sobbing. Hopefully it would include Mycroft getting up on a table in a top hat and doing some cheesy dance routine with his umbrella before he was blown away with it, Mary Poppins style.
Unfortunately it held none of that. Mycroft just slung an arm around Greg's shoulder and continued the song. The DI stiffened at the touch, now suddenly uncomfortable as the seemingly insane man suddenly wished to invade his personal space. His little bubble was broken. Bubble? What bubble of personal space? Mycroft destroyed that.
"Can you feel the gay tonight~?
The homo lust it brings
And maybe soon they'll realize…
It's not a one sided fling?"
Mycroft and the song paused. Gregory waited for it to go on and end, but it didn't. He looked at Mycroft questioningly, only getting an expectant face in reply. He then decided, to Hell with it. He had Mycroft's arm around his shoulder and had been listening to him sing (as well as Sherlock and John!), so Gregory joined in, slinging his arm around Mycroft's shoulder as well. The music continued as if nothing happened.
Words just poured into his mouth, as if a mystical force were giving him the right lines. Either that or it was like a bored teenager with absolutely no life writing them into his head for something entertaining. Same thing, really.
"Can you feel the gay tonight~?
You needn't look too far~! There is no deniability!
Love is where they are…"
"And if they both confess tonight, it can be assumed…"
"They're gone for good," Gregory sang back, "The closet's history."
And then the two finished the last line of the song:
"In short, John's ass is doomed…"
Immediately afterwards, the two were laughing, literally rolling on the ground. Mycroft sincerely hoped no one saw that. Greg was sincerely disappointed to find that there would be no Mycroft brand table top dancing.
And Sherlock? He had the distinct feeling that something had happened without his notice. It almost felt as if Mycroft were singing about him behind his back again. But that was impossible. The elder brother had sworn to never sing again after doing a parody of "Like a Boss" that had traumatized him. Sherlock figured that he should probably get up and go investigate, and deduce, and maybe save a damsel in distress or something equally heroic. But John was laying on his shoulder, and the doctor hadn't been sleeping well lately. Normally this wouldn't bother him and he would go off after the case, but for some reason he didn't. This could surely wait, right? So he tilted his head back, listened to John's soft breathing and drifted off to blissful slumber.
Little did anyone know, John had been awake and aware of what had transpired. Once he was sure Sherlock was asleep, he shifted a little, moving his head to the side to where a young girl sat, invisible to most. The two gave each other a thumbs up before the girl disappeared, carrying her laptop with her. John felt Sherlock's arms wrap around him and smiled. He slowly laid the two of them down and tangled their limbs together, going back to sleep.
And this, children, is why making deals with fanfiction authors will sometimes work out in the end, for both sides.