"Mycroft! Open up!" John hammered on the door of Mycroft Holmes' house, shouting his name repeatedly.
He heard multiple locks being unfastened, and the clicking of various bolts. What an intense security system.
The door was opened an inch, one fastener keeping it from opening more.
"Mycroft, let me in. It's urgent." he said.
No response.
"It's about... it's about Sherlock." he said slowly.
The door shut again, and the fastener was undone.
The door swung open fully.
"Lestrade?" John gasped.
DI Greg Lestrade was stood in the doorway of Mycroft Holmes' house, wearing only an unfastened, dark-blue dressing gown.
"John!" Lestrade also looked shocked.
Hadn't he recognised John's voice?
"Why are you at Mycroft's... in your dressing gown..?" John asked slowly.
"I... um... we were..." he stuttered.
"Greeeeeeeeg... come back to bed..." Mycroft's voice echoed through the house.
Lestrade looked mortified, and oddly turned-on.
"I... um... gotta go..." he stammered, and slammed the door in John's face, relocking everything.
John heard his heavy footsteps as he ran through the house, and then he heard a loud thump, and someone moaning.
John stood, shocked, for a moment, then walked slowly away from Mycroft's house, trying to rid the repetitive Greeeeeeeeg Greeeeeeeeg Greeeeeeeeg that was shooting through his mind.