Not supposed to go like that

It was not supposed to go like that!

Fucking hell, it was not supposed to go like that!

- Oh, yeah, let me explain this.

You see. There´s this really hot guy. His name´s Mycroft Holmes. He´s tall, got soft ginger-brown hair, the sweetest smile I´ve ever seen and a really fine booty. His skin is tan and you can spot a few light freckles if you get a chance to take a good look, like I got, being seated behind him in the rowing boat. He´s always polite and got everything under control, hell, he´s not the leader of Alpha Gamma Epsilon for nothing. Some blokes say he´s got a stick up his arse, but that makes him just more fuckable in my eyes. I wanna rip this stick out, stick my thing in and make that reserved guy moan like a…

- I guess you get the idea.

He´s also gay, as is known.

Now you probably gonna tell me "Sounds great, Greg. Go for it." But there´s one problem.

One pale, dark haired, annoying-as-crap problem! "The name is Sherlock Holmes" as he says and he is exactly the unnerving little sibling your best friend in primary school had. He always wants you to entertain him, he always wants to play with you and you're not able to get rid of him, ever! As for me it means he makes fun of my training in police academy, he calls me boring and dull when I suggest he should get a hobby and I can never make a move on Mycroft, because Sherlock is like glued to him. If I would only understand why! They seem to detest each other, yet I guess, Sherlock detests every other person on the whole planet even more, so it makes some sense that Sherlock doesn´t get off Mycrofts´ back for even the second I need to ask him out.

- You see my problem?

So what does Greg do?

Just give up on Mycroft and his soft, Armani-clothed bum?

Hell no!

He does the trick, every second teenager-movie tells you.

If the beauty agrees on a date with you, if you get her ugly sister a guy - you do it.

So when I asked Mycroft to have dinner with me Saturday evening (of course Sherlock was eavesdropping and announcing without being asked, that he wanted to try the new Italian), I told them an old friend of mine would stop by too. And as Mycroft agreed he got that blush… that blush on his cheeks, that wants you to melt.

- Half of the trick was done!

The harder part was to find a friend who was willing to do me a favor.

"Oh, Greg. Which poor pal have you led into this misery?" you might think.

Well, this pals´ name was John. Or assistant doctor John Watson. A good friend of mine. Bi. Not currently in a relationship. We hadn´t seen each other for quite a while now, since we both had no steady work schedule. And when I asked him to meet me and two of my "friends" at a nice little Italian restaurant, he sounded delighted.

I didn´t want to be unfair, so I mentioned, that I quite liked the elder one. He was okay with that. I mentioned further, that the younger brother was single and that I was informed he showed no interest in girls. He grew suspicious.

I don´t want to bore you with details.

Our conversation ended with him, promising to meet us at seven p.m. at the restaurant and me, promising him the biggest steak he´d ever seen on my treat.

- It was all planned out.

Mycroft and I. We would eat great pasta, maybe share some garlic bread, we would talk about nothing too serious. We would laugh, exchange glances and kiss in front of his doorstep.

Sherlock and John. Well… I hoped they would also talk and enjoy their meals, maybe even laugh, but I estimated that possibility not very high.

- Oh, I was such a fool!

Well, I guess you want to know what exactly is going on.

Sherlock and John.

That´s what´s going on.

Precisely it´s their tongues and hands, that are going on.

Sherlock and John.

They´re all over each other.

All over each other!

At Mycrofts´ and Sherlocks´ doorstep.

While Mycroft and I talk like civilized humans, they act on their primal urges, like animals.

And I´m pissed.

Because I wanted to be the animal tonight!

- You ask me what happened?

Well, as far as I can tell, Sherlock and John were instantly attracted to each other. John gave me a thumbs up as we took a seat. We all had pasta and shared a big bowl of salad and a breadbasket of garlic bread. Sherlock was once again right. The restaurant was nice, the music evident, but not too loud, the food excellent. Not so nice was Sherlocks´ table talk, since he had the urge to spill out all possibilities to commit suicide using a Bunsen burner. I could hear Mycroft and myself suck in breath, as he was finished, waiting for Johns´ reply. I half expected him to take a flying leap for the door every second, but then he started to smile, to complement Sherlock. And suddenly the two of them were... in love.

It was quite remarkable.

John couldn´t stop grinning like a fool and practically stared at Sherlock the whole time. Sherlock too couldn´t really keep the smile off his face and his eyes glistered.

Mycroft and I got reduced to mere audience.

And there were only the two of them for the rest of the evening.

- "That´s great Greg, isn´t it? Isn´t that exactly what you wanted?" you might ask.

Yeah, of course I wanted to get Sherlock off his brothers back. And of course at first I was happy for the two of them. At first.

I was not so happy anymore, as they started to make out in the cab right next to me. With Mycroft up front. Unreachable.

- Poor me.

Like I said. It was not supposed to go like that.

But…

"Gregory?"

"Yeah?" Oh, great. I zoomed out on my date.

"Gregory, this evening was very nice and I appreciate what you did for Sherlock." Oh?

"I have never seen him this happy before." His face held that look. Like sadness, maybe loneliness. Was there a slight chance he wanted to become happy too? Like me?

Since all seemed lost I took my chance and his face in my hands.

When John and I climbed into a cab we both had kiss-bruised lips and wore silly smiles.

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