strade Learns Something New

A/N: Good evening, gents and ladies. Here is a little funny ficlet for you, also sort of smutty, but I don't think really. As you may well know, soon I will be camping and won't be able to update, so I threw this in there for you. I am working on the next big one, but I don't want to publish just yet until I iron out the deets. So you might be waiting for a bit.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, unfortunately. Do you think they will give me the rights?

Lestrade frowned. At the moment, he was watching John flirt with their suspect at the bar, as per Sherlock's request. It was odd; ever since the two had started their relationship two months ago, the consulting detective practically breathed fire at any woman who even tried to approach John.

Now he encouraged his boyfriend to flirt with another man, and he was watching raptly and without any spark of jealousy. It couldn't have been because the suspect was straight; they were at a gay bar for Christ's sake and if this was their guy, he slept with all his male victims before killing them.

"Shut up, Lestrade."

"I didn't say anything," he sputtered indignantly, but Sherlock gave him a knowing look. Right. He was thinking too loud. "It's just, you are acting rather calm even though your boyfriend is talking to a gay man at the moment."

"So?"

"Shouldn't you be jealous?"

"I don't have time to be jealous, we are on a case."

"That's bull. You've verbally maimed Sally for even talking to him on plenty of cases."

Sherlock was smirking now. "Well, John is at least bisexual."

"Right, which is why I'm confused."

"I've got nothing to be worried about, at the moment." Lestrade just glared.

"Fine. Be cryptic." John came up at the moment, frowning.

"I'm pretty sure he's not our guy. He's got an alibi, but we should double check it."

"Let's go then," Sherlock said as he stood up. He wrapped an arm around the doctor, still looking smugly at the DI. Lestrade just shook his head.

It was almost a month before Lestrade learned just why Sherlock wasn't worried about other men. A new case had come up, and Sherlock had been working on it for about a week with no new information. The inspector was meeting up with him at St Bart's to see if he had come up with anything.

He didn't think to knock on the door to the lab. Why would he? It was a public building. He wish he had, though, considering the situation he came across. Sherlock was sitting at the lab table, looking at slides through the microscope. Not out of the ordinary, but the furniture was not hiding the unusual events taking place underneath them. John was on his knees, mouth stretched over Sherlock's massive length. The doctor noticed him and tried to pull off, but Sherlock's hand forced his head back down, and John just squinted his eyes apologetically. Greg made a hasty exit.

Later that night, as he lied in bed with Mycroft, he relayed the scene. "He was huge, Mycroft, absolutely ginormous. How does it even get that big?"

"I do not want to know about your attraction to my brother," Mycroft said drolly.

Greg just shook his head frantically. "Oh no, it's not attraction. Sure, everyone would like a partner with a…big tool, but not that big. He would tear me apart. I don't know how John does it, but he obviously likes it. No, you're just perfect." The cop said the last bit seductively rubbing up against his tired lover, who nonetheless was eager to please.

After a bout of lovemaking, Mycroft pulled Greg close. "Well, it's good you're not attracted to my brother. Not only would I be most displeased, but you would have to be worried about John's reaction. Did I tell you about the situation with the bartender who was only trying to earn a bigger tip? He won't be doing much flirting now, considering how damaged his larynx is, among other things."

Yes, better leave Sherlock to John.