disclaimer- guess what? I don't own Sherlock, isn't that a surprise.
enjoy
Lestrade's Illness
John squinted at the sunlight that shone through the blinds. The screeching sounds of the violin poured into his room, telling him the Sherlock was awake; he doubted the man had ever actually gotten to sleep. Stretching, the doctor got out of bed with a yawn. No sooner has his foot touched the wood floor did he hear a voice;
'John. Tea.' It commanded.
John's eyes narrowed angrily before he continued to get dressed, grumbling to himself. A few minutes later, John emerged from his bed room, still muttering softly to himself.
He went into the kitchen and put on the kettle and bread in the toaster. Was it really too much to ask for the consulting detective to get up and put the God damn kettle on himself? Just once? He wondered to himself as he buttered his toast and poured the two cups of tea. As he took Sherlock's tea to Sherlock, the male just nodded to the coffee table, still dragging the bow across the violin strings. Setting it down John turned and fetched his breakfast before he sat in his chair.
He couldn't understand how that violin could stand up to the torture Sherlock was putting it through. They even had had to soundproof the flat because the neighbors were threatening court cases. It was probably in everyone's best interest if he hid that damned bow somewhere that Sherlock would never find it.
'Don't even bother,' the baritone voice said from across the room.
John looked up 'Don't bother to do what?' he asked innocently.
'If you try to hid my violin bow I will find it or I will annoy you until I find it. So don't bother.' He responded before looking away. John had to think to himself, was it worth it?
His thoughts were interrupted by Sherlock's phone ringing on the coffee table. Reaching forward, John picked up the phone and threw it to the other man, who caught it easily. John could only guess who was on the other end. Sherlock's eyes lit up and confirmed his suspicions.
'We'll be right there,' he grinned after a moment on the phone.
'What does Lestrade want?' The doctor asked, getting on his jacket.
'It wasn't Lestrade.' Sherlock responded and John stopped with a soft, 'What?'
'It was Donavan. Lestrade is off ill, that's why they want us at Scotland Yard.' John looked puzzled.
'Why does Lestrade being ill mean we have to be at Scotland Yard?' He asked.
Since the bomb at the swimming pool, Donavan and Lestrade had been friendlier with them. In fact, most of Scotland Yard acted better than before. John had convinced Sherlock to be nice in return. Since then, he wished he hadn't. The man had turned into more of a gossiping teenager with the police. It was scary, even if it was put on.
'Because we need to find out why he's ill. In all the time I've helped the Yard, not once had he been ill. Not one single time.' He informed him, pulling on his coat. 'So why is he now? Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do.'
With that, they left the flat, and left John wondering if Sherlock was actually acting as much as he thought the man was.
Donavan greeted them at the door.
'Morning freak' she grinned at them. Since Sherlock wasn't bothered by the term freak, she still used it. Though now it was less biting and more playful. Sherlock smiled back and let himself in, followed by John. They reach Lestrade's office, which was locked. Sherlock produced a paperclip and set to work on it before John realized what was happening. When he caught up, he pulled the other man back.
'Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?' he hissed.
'What does it look like? No one here has a key for Lestrade's office, so this is the only way we'll be able to take a look around.' He responded, eyeing the doctor as he stopped.
'You don't think he's ill, do you?'
'Not in the slightest.' He responded matter-of-factly, 'Now, if you don't mind' John let go of his shoulder and stepped back, turning to Donavan as Sherlock continued.
'Doesn't this place have CCTV?' He asked and she nodded.
'Of course, but it's not monitored.' Donavan said, 'I doubt anyone looks at it unless something important is stolen.' The doctor didn't know whether to be relieved or worried by this information.
'Well, what about everyone else in the Yard? What if they find out what we're doing?' he asked looking round at the various people walking round.
'They all know what we are doing' John paused while this sunk in.
'What?'
'They want to find out as much as we do. Everyone knows the DI has the best record of any of us. We also know that him being ill is less likely than the sky falling,' she said as she smiled almost as if remembering a funny joke. John decided not to ask and instead turned his attention back to the now open office and the detective who was already inside, scanning the whole room with his eyes.
After a few moments, Sherlock began to look through the draws. John was looking at the random objects on the DI's desk, making sure he was close to the door. John suddenly realized that he couldn't hear Sherlock moving. He looked at the man in question who stood with a letter in his hands.
His face had paled; something John thought was impossible, and gulped slightly before he spoke.
'I think it would be a good idea if we left now.' he put the letter back in the drawer, which he locked and walked outside. John looked at Donavan; she didn't have a clue either, judging by the look she was giving him. The both walked out and Sherlock lock the door to the office.
'Sherlock, what's wrong?' John asked warily, edging closer to his flat mate. Sherlock didn't answer; instead he turned and left the Yard not waiting for John to follow him.
When John got back to the flat, Sherlock was already there. He was sat with his knees under his chin and his arms wrapped round his legs. He walked over to the other man and sat down on the arm of the sofa, putting his hand on the others shoulder.
'What is wrong Sherlock?' no answer 'You can tell me.' his voice was pleading slightly.
Sherlock didn't look at him but he said quietly, 'Lestrade is with Mycroft' it took a while for John to process what his flat mate had said. When it hit him he breathed a sigh of relief.
'Is that all, Sherlock? Really? You had me worried sick!'
'You don't understand.' He said looking at him 'Lestrade is with Mycroft.' the doctor looked at him and the detective knew that John had understood his meaning when his confused expression lifted, quickly to be replaced by one of shock.
'You mean they're…'
'Yes'
John got up and sat in his chair, looking down. 'Wow.' he coughed slightly 'Well. Um... That's something I wasn't expecting.'
'I can't believe I hadn't noticed. I know Mycroft hasn't been as pushy with me, he hasn't dropped in for weeks now and you haven't been kidnapped by him either but I just didn't piece that together. How could I have not have known?' while Sherlock was busy talking to himself, a thought hit John.
'Um, Sherlock? Doesn't Mycroft have the power to watch just about any CCTV footage in Britain?' the detective looked at him.
'Yes' Sherlock responded and John nodded.
'So how many members of the Yard are going to get their ass kicking when he watches the CCTV footage?'
No answer.
John didn't need one, he already knew the answer and so did Sherlock. Their only hope was that Mycroft didn't bother to watch the footage. It was a vain hope.
The next day, Sherlock got a call and John got an email that they were both required to go to Scotland Yard. John didn't want to get kidnapped so he went by cab but Sherlock decided he could get away with running as fast as he could. When John got to the Yard he found no one at the door. He walked in and down the corridors to a large room where he found the entire workforce from yesterday standing in rows like kids in an assembly. He looked at the front and found the DI standing at the front. A very angry looking DI standing at the front.
Suddenly going along with Sherlock's plan didn't seem like such a bad idea. His thoughts were interrupted by the doors opening again and Sherlock entering in handcuffs followed by his brother, who's expression was... well 'if looks could kill' shot to mind instantly.
The detective looked helplessly at John before he was pushed forward by Mycroft who beckoned John to follow them. They were taken into an office that John had never seen before. Donavan was already inside, looking very scared. This unnerved John as Donavan wasn't one to get scared easily. He went and stood behind the chair where she sat, offering what support he could give. Sherlock still had his hands cuffed behind his back and Mycroft stood in completely silence. Even through the door they could hear the DI's shouts. If that was the punishment for those not directly involved, John didn't want to know what was going to happen to them, the ones who had actually gone into the office.
The tremor in his hand had vanished completely. Sherlock noticed this, his mouth twitched in a way which, under other circumstances, would become a smile. The door opened and the DI walked into the office and closed the door softly behind him.
'Ok. You three. I'm sure you all know why I wasn't here yesterday, I would be grateful if you don't spread the reason.' He said firmly and Sally looked puzzled.
'Donavan doesn't know' John said quietly. The DI looked at her, then Mycroft, who also studied the woman, before nodding that it was the truth. Lestrade looked at her then sighed before opening the door.
'Right then, you can go Donavan. Consider this a strike on your record for trespassing.'
She got up and silently thanked John and God and her guardian angel (who she was pretty sure was John) and left quickly. The door clicked closed and the DI turned to John and Sherlock, raising an eyebrow and the cuffs.
'Right then. So you both know about us then.' the DI was fighting to keep calm. 'You picked the lock to my office, went inside and unlocked anything you felt like unlocking. Do you know how many punishments I could give you? I could have you locked up for less!'
John looked him in the eyes, military training finally kicking in. He wouldn't be the first to look away. He wasn't, Lestrade turned his attention back to Sherlock. 'Luckily for you, or unluckily depending on how you see it, Mycroft has decided that he'll take control of whatever it is you'll have to do.' with that the DI left the room, he didn't particularly want to see what his partner had in store for the men, he could be extremely cruel when he wanted to be.
Sherlock barely held back his snigger as he saw the way his brother stared longingly at the DI through the door. Upon hearing the muffled sound, Mycroft whipped his head round and focused a glare on Sherlock. Silence deafened the room for many long moments before Mycroft finally spoke.
'I've had you down as many things, Sherlock, but stupid was never one of them. Are you deliberately trying to ruin your life, and mine, or can't you help yourself?' he turned to John. 'And I thought you, Dr. Watson, would have more sense than to just let him go off on a whim like this.'
John just held his ground. Sherlock looked utterly bored 'Yes yes, ok we get it. Now can you just skip the lecture and tell us what exactly your punishment is likely to entail?'
Mycroft smiled darkly and chuckled despite himself. 'Of course. Firstly; I will up the surveillance- including the flat. Second; you are as of now required to answer my calls and take up any cases I ask of you. And thirdly; you are going to the Christmas party.' at the last requirement Sherlock paled slightly. John couldn't help but smirk. He's afraid of going to see his family for Christmas the thought was priceless.
'I don't see what you find so funny, Dr. Watson. You are expected to take up the cases as well and be available to treat any of my men who I refer to you. Oh, and you are required at the Holmes Christmas party as well, so don't make plans.' with that he left the room.
'What's the matter Sherlock, it's a party. How bad can it be?' John caught a glimpse of the detective's eyes. The man was terrified. Suddenly the party didn't sound like such an easy task to endure. He decided they would get the other man to talk about what he found so scary when they got home. He needed to know what he was in for.
It had taken asking, pleading, threatening, leaving for 'air' and finally blackmailing to get the detective to talk but John managed it. The two men were sat on Sherlock's sofa; the TV was on but they weren't watching it.
'I've been able to escape going to the past four Christmas parties that mummy has held. They're strictly family things. I have many cousins, all of whom I hate with a passion and their parents aren't much better. Mummy is probably the only person who isn't stuck so far up her own arse. I can't stand it. Most of the people are from my dad's side of the family so they have the talent for business instead of deducting. Mycroft learned to curb his talent for it early on but I never saw the point in hiding what you're good at. Over all, it would be spending a whole day and night desperately trying not to insult people I detest because I know if I do it will make the whole think so much worse.' The flat lapsed back into silence.
A month until the date of the party, John wondered if he could somehow persuade Mycroft to come up with some other punishment.
'It won't work' the detective had lost interest completely now and turned his attention back to the TV. John put on the nearest jumper and left the flat, the least he could do was try to reason with the elder Holmes, for Sherlock's sake.
'No' John sat on the park bench. He had wanted to walk straight into Mycroft's office and demand to be seen at once but he didn't have the faintest idea where the man's office was, and even if he did the chances of the receptionist showing him the way were extremely low. In fact he'd probably be arrested by a S.W.A.T. team or something equally over the top. Instead, he walked to the park in a bid to clear his mind and think of a way to get the man to listen. He sat down on the park bench at midpoint to rest his leg when he heard the voice behind him. John didn't understand at first but the voice continued regardless.
'I am not changing my mind on this. Sherlock is going to that party, as are you.' the doctor turned round as Mycroft sat next to him, twirling his umbrella.
'He's scared shitless, Mycroft, can't you see that?' the doctor found his confusion being replaced very quickly with anger. If the elder Holmes noticed this change in mood he didn't show any reaction to it.
'I know. Which is why you're going to be there as well. I'm not afraid to use whatever small powers I possess to get you both to go, don't make me Dr. Watson.' with that he stood up to leave. Without looking back he said, 'It will be a black suit occasion, I suggest you get my brother to take you shopping. If he hasn't already bought you one, that is.'
John's mind froze, great. He hated suits with a passion, they were uncomfortable and not the least bit warm….wait a sec, what does he mean 'if Sherlock hasn't already bought me one'? The doctor got up and walked home with a slightly quicker than usual pace, though not fast enough to draw attention to himself. He wondered silently if he had been played by the detective but dismissed the idea. Sherlock wouldn't do that… his pace picked up again as he neared 221b Baker Street.
Sherlock was sat in the same position as when John left, his chin resting on the fabric of his coat that lay over his knees, it was almost as if he hadn't moved at all but John had been out for at least an hour and a half. He also knew that when he had left, Sherlock hadn't been wearing his coat.
'Don't play games with me, Sherlock. I know you've been out while I was gone.' the detective looked at him, John thought he saw a glimmer of something, perhaps pride?, in his eyes, which was quickly covered by a look of boredom.
'I am allowed to go leave the flat without you John.'
'Yes but not to buy me a suit for that party I'm being forced to attend.' Sherlock stopped
'Mycroft told you then.' he said, in a slightly childish voice.
'Yes. Now show me what horror it is that I have to wear for this outing.' the look on Sherlock's face was something that, if worn by anyone else, would resemble hurt. He got up and went to his room, bringing out the suit after a few seconds. He wordlessly handed it to John and sat back down. The shorter male didn't have a lot of experience when it came to suits but it was clearly tailor made. He touch the fabric lightly, it was soft beneath his fingertips. John slipped into his room and tried it on. It fit perfectly. Like he had been in the shop… He admired himself in the full length mirror that rest against the wall next to his window. He looked down at the trousers which perfectly modeled his muscle. When he looked back at his reflection he found two faces staring back at him. He whipped round to face Sherlock.
'I hope you think it's suitable to wear for the party,' his voice was clearly still hurt from the doctor's last comment.
'I…Sherlock, I didn't mean-' he couldn't finish the sentence so instead opted for a new one 'It's amazing. How did you know my size?' he asked, still amazed that a suit could show his feature off in such a fashion. Sherlock sniffed slightly.
'I guessed. So I you do like it then?' he asked.
'Of course I do. I didn't mean what I said before Sherlock. I just- you know I don't like being played.' He still found himself stumbling over his words.
'It's ok, you know, I don't know anyone who would actually want to go with me to the party.' Sherlock said, sounding altogether self-loathing.
'No, Sherlock. I'm fine with going with you. If you had asked me I would have said that I'd love to go to the party with you.'
He received a smirk before the taller male leaned in to whisper, 'Well that's good, because Mycroft has told mummy that you are my partner.' With that, the detective strode out of the room, leaving the doctor dumbstruck in his wake. When John's mind started working again after a few minutes. Fuck.
The month flew by far too quickly, John decided as he stood on curb, looking at the hall. Beside him, Sherlock stood. He looks luminous; his own suit flared in all the right ways and seems to make him more gorgeous than before. He took a sharp intake of breath. God, did I really just think that? When he came back to his senses, he found that Sherlock was already at the door, holding it open for him. He smiled before he could stop himself and joined his lanky friend in the doorway.
They entered the largest room which held too many people for John to count. He hadn't realized that Sherlock had such a big family. The man was so distant from everyone that he just expected there would be ten people, twenty at most. Within moments, two people from one of the groups and came to meet them.
'Sherlock! We didn't expect you to be here!' they sounded unhappy with the fact.
Sherlock stiffed his back slightly and replied curtly, 'Suzie, George, it's been a while.'
John could tell that Sherlock was dying inside not to insult the two of them.
'It has, hasn't it,' the woman replied, 'who's your dashing friend here?' Sherlock didn't reply.
'Oh, I see, just someone you picked up on the way so you wouldn't be alone. We expected as much.' the remark was snide and she giggled with the man standing next to her, before turning to John, 'We can find you someone more interesting to talk to than this plank here. Anyone is better than him.' At that, the soldier decided that he wasn't going to put up with anyone insulting his partn-flat mate.
'I'll have you know that I asked to come here. If I'd have known his you'd be as sour and vindictive as this, I wouldn't have bothered.' he began to walk away but turned back. 'Oh, and thanks for the offer but I'm quite clearly taken.' with that he smiled sweetly at the woman, and then held out his hand to Sherlock, who took it and followed him through the crowd.
They were stopped by a slim woman with dark hair and bright eyes. She smiled and the room lit up. Sherlock squeezed John's hand slightly before saying, 'John, Mummy. Mummy, John' John blinked. She couldn't be. She wasn't nearly old enough. The woman laughed.
'Thank you for your kind thoughts. I do look a little young for my age, I'll admit.'
Yep, definitely Sherlock's mother.
His thought earned him another chuckle as she checked him over. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Mycroft enter with Lestrade following close behind fiddling with the bowtie round his neck. So he's been dragged into this as well then. Mummy followed his gaze.
'I had wondered if my other son had had something to do with this.' she said, mostly to herself. She smiled again. 'Well, it's nice meeting you John. After the little display a few moments ago, I don't think I need to ask you to look after my son.' The woman turned and made a beeline for Mycroft, who saw her and smiled. He then saw John or more so the murderous look in his eyes, and paled ever so slightly. Yes, Mycroft and I are going to have a nice little chat about what he goes spreading round. John thought icily.
'You didn't have to do that, you know,' a familiar voice brought John back to reality,
'Hmm, sorry, what?'
'What you said to Suzie, you didn't have to.' Sherlock repeated looking slightly flustered.
'No, I don't suppose I did. But I wanted to. She had it coming.' he smiled and got one in return.
'Thank you John.'
The detective dragged him through the room to where his brother and the DI stood; mummy was nowhere to be seen.
'Hello Mycroft.' John said with his plastered on smile, he was clinging to Sherlock's arm like a teenager girl. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.
'Hello John. I trust you are having a good time?' he asked innocently.
'Yes, yes, I'm having a wonderful time.' venom dripped from his words, he didn't need to threaten the elder Holmes. This was a party after all. The doctor turned to DI, 'So you've been made to come to this party as well, Lestrade?'
'Call me Greg,' a pause, 'that is basically what happened. Yes.' John chuckled; he knew how that felt from experience. The two couples parted a few moments later, both going in opposite directions. Sherlock pulled John into one of the hallways. With a sly grin he produced two bags with what looked like a white powder in each
'While we're here, let's have some fun!' John eyed the bags surreptitiously. Sherlock chuckled, 'Don't worry! They're not class A drugs. One's a laxative and the other's a sleeping draft.' the doctor looked at them for a short time then an evil, crooked grin spread on his face. He took one of packets; I haven't done anything remotely like this since my uni days.
With the punch bowl now laced with the laxative and a few choice foods sprinkled with the sleeping draft, Sherlock and John decided to retreat to a safe distance. That being outside. They walked down the corridor to the back of the hall and out onto the garden. Ideally, they would have gone home but Mycroft would have just had them picked up and brought back so they settled for the garden. The moon was full and the sky was cloudless, a very rare sight for London. John sat down on the bench. Moments later he was joined by the taller man. A slight chilly breeze whipped silently around John's neck, making him shiver. He wished he had brought a coat or worn another layer. As soft and fitted as it was, the suited didn't offer much in the way of warmth. The next thing John knew, he was being pulled to Sherlock's side.
He spluttered. 'Sherlock? What are you doing?' the detective chuckled and nuzzled into the doctors blonde hair.
'You're cold, I thought I'd warm you up a bit,' he smiled, eyes burning. John's mind whirred. Well, I am meant to be his partner. For tonight anyway. I may never get to do this again. But, what effect will it have on tomorrow? He sighed and pressed himself into the taller man, suddenly feeling the others warmth rush over him. He lifted his legs up onto the bench and folded them under him, God, I must look like such a teenage girl he thought.
The still of the night was cut through by sounds of commotion from the hall. The two men on the bench felt no inclination to go and see their handiwork, but they couldn't help laughing. John had never heard Sherlock laugh before, not properly. The sound was clear, musical and full of glee.
The doctor had never truly believed Sherlock's claim of being a sociopath. He never showed the characteristics. Since the swimming pool incident, Sherlock seemed to have come to that realization as well, though it didn't change his arrogance in the slightest. John also decided that however much of a manipulative bastard the guy was before, he had definitely got worse. But John didn't help himself in the slightest by being happy to be dragged into anything labeled 'dangerous'.
He subconsciously snuggled into the other man, placing his ear over the others heart. What he found was not the steady beat he expected, but a quick racing beat that seemed to dance in the detective's chest. John smiled, whatever happened tomorrow, he'd always have this. From somewhere behind him, John heard something. He turned round to see not only Mummy but Mycroft and a very flushed looking Lestrade standing a few metres away.
'Um, Sherlock,' he said. The man looked to John then to the three looking at them.
'Oh, for God's sake. You can't leave us alone for five minutes, can you?' he turned and practically pounced on John. Attacking his mouth until it opened. Before John knew what was happening, he was on his back, his legs had somehow unfolded from beneath him and now one consulting detective lay on his front, latched on to his mouth.
ohGodohGodohGodohGod
Just before the taller man pulled back to breathe, he grazed his teeth lightly over John's bottom lip, sending a shiver shooting up the doctor's spine. Sherlock turned back to the three who stood, still watching. Lestrade was blushing violently. The detective smiled.
'Happy now?'
John narrowed his eyes. He can't do that and not expect me to just take it. The former army medic growled as he grabbed Sherlock's shoulder and pulled him back down for a brutal kiss. Without leaving the detectives mouth he flipped their positions, using military precision, so that he effectively held the other man hostage. John opened the detective's mouth with his tongue and attacked. Sherlock returned his movements with equal vigor, desperately trying to gain the upper hand once more. John heard quite shuffles behind him and quickly flicked his eyes across to see that Mummy had left and the DI was trying to pull away an adamant Mycroft back into the building. The sight made him chuckle and he broke away.
'Greg, have you really been keeping that much from the man? I doubt little girls would stare as much,' the doctor got up off Sherlock and brushed himself down, pausing a minute to take in the disappointed features on the detective's face. He cast his attention back to Mycroft.
'Can we go home yet?' the elder Holmes only nodded. It was as if he had suddenly become incapable of speaking. The doctor nodded to himself. 'In that case, I think we'll be off. I do have a shift to work in the morning.' it wasn't a complete lie. He had said he'd pop in if they needed any help at any time so he could be working in the morning. But the chances of that happening were getting increasingly slimmer every minute he stood in the presence of the tall detective who was currently behind him, subtly winding his long arms round the his waist.
John wormed his way out of the detective's arms and went directly to the front door. Sherlock called a cab and they got inside.
'Why the rush?' the detective asked slowly, batting his eyelashes slightly. John chuckled
'Mycroft was holding a glass of that punch we spiked.'
AN- well, there you go.
many, many thanks to Darkmoonclyde XD
please R&R
breathing is over-rated
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