"...and if you were the least bit competent, you would have noticed that the murderer is the wife's friend." Sherlock's scathing voice drifted to John down the stairs. Lestrade's long-suffering sigh followed.
John smiled, tears forming in his eyes. Some things never change.
Mycroft nudged him forward, warmth shining in every feature of his face.
John sent a questioning glance his way. You coming?
He nodded. Then gestured him forward again.
They climbed the stairs quietly.
"And how'd you deduce that it was the friend? Did you use your Freak powers again? Was she having an affair with him?" A woman said snidely. A male laugh responded.
John scowled. If they think they can get away with insulting his husband like that…
Mycroft smirked at John clenching his fists and slowing down for a split second before continuing silently. If only those two knew what they were getting into.
"Well, Donovan. If you would point your miniscule intellect to the facts, the wife was having an affair with the friend. The friend was jewalous of her husband and wanted the wife all to herself. So she tried to make this look like a suicide, even if she failed so miserably that you buffoons noticed something was off. If, when you went to interview the wife and met her, you'd used those things you call brains, you would notice that she was showing signs of nervousness at seeing the police. She crossed her legs and arms and placed herself slightly behind the wife so as to hide herself. Her hands had slight abrasions from the rope he was hung on, and she even had fibers from it on her right side. Of course, you also would have missed the slight signs of poison on him. There weren't signs of struggle because she drugged him, then got him strung up with the help of a friend to make it look as if he had done it himself. You'll want to go arrest them both immediately before the accomplice convinces the friend to run."
"Who's the accomplice then? How can you tell there was one?"
"Oh, honestly! Her brother! How could a woman of her stature lift and position an unconscious man twice her size without help? And there was clearly a scent of male cologne in the air not belonging to this fat thing." At continued silence, he huffed. "Don't any of you pay attention? The brute only had a stick of deodorant in his house. Everything else was for a female. He doesn't smell of women's deodorant, so that means that it was his. However, there is an affronting stench of men's cologne in here. Along with the hair on his collar longer than his, but shorter than both women's that you would find to be the friend's brother if you did DNA analysis on it. Do you need anything more?"
By now, John and Mycroft had finished climbing the stairs and were standing just to the right of the door.
Lestrade sighed again. He ordered several officers on his walkie-talkie to go and arrest them both.
Mycroft motioned John to stay where he was. He then walked very purposefully into the room, gently tapping his feet on the floor as he went.
Everyone in the room looked up. Sherlock scowled and turned to face his brother.
"Mycroft. Whatever are you doing here?" Sherlock didn't bother to hide his contempt.
"Why, Sherlock. You should be more polite. After all, what would Mummy think?"
Sherlock scoffed.
"Mummy? What do you mean?" The DI looked confused at this term used casually between the two.
"It means exactly what it sounds like, Gregory." Mycroft answered when his brother wasn't forthcoming.
"Wait - So, you're related? I thought you were just a random crazy after you kidnapped me! Why didn't you tell me you were his brother?"
John almost sniggered at the mention of a kidnapping. He still fondly remembered his first kidnapping. It was always warehouse, docks, parking garage, empty office building, old basement, abandoned house, then, if you made it that far in Sherlock's life (which he was the only one, as far as he knew) Mycroft's personal office.
(They all varied in their intensity, going from a simple I-can-see-you-from-the-cameras-so-get-in-this-black-car to an elaborate scheme of trying to get you to befriend an agent in the dentist's office unaware, then when you were unsuspecting and comfortable in your new friend's company, have that agent drug your beer and take you to a disguised Mycroft who then tried to interrogate you about Sherlock in an easily recognizable (to John who had just come back on leave for a few weeks from Afghanistan) Middle Eastern accent.)
John got through each kidnapping and test in one piece, so he likes to call that a success.
"Why would I?" Mycroft continued, oblivious to John's amusement.
"Why are you here then, brother dear? Was there a sweets shop 'round the corner? Are your agents tired of going there for you?" Sherlock interrupted.
"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock." Mycroft tsked. "Surely you know how much I detest fieldwork. I have something to deliver to you personally."
"What is it." Sherlock snapped.
"Hm. Well, I'll try to tell you gently, I suppose. We won't be needing that storage unit for John's things anymore."
John almost groaned. That makes it sound as if I'm dead! Ugh!
"What?" Sherlock whispered.
"Well, as you know John was shot and was due to be home next week-"
"No! No, no, no! He can't be! You said he would be fine! It was only his shoulder!"
"Sherlock, if you'd just let me explain-"
"No! You said! You promised!" Sherlock was panicking. He had to step in.
John stepped into the room, giving up on waiting. This wasn't supposed to upset him. Sherlock was holding his brother up by his throat against the wall, all the officers in the room frozen, watching the scene play out. Idiots… Heh. I sound like Sherlock.
"Sherlock! John is-"
"No! SHUT UP!"
"I think he meant to say that I was right behind you." Sherlock dropped his brother and spun around so quickly his brother didn't even have time to hit the floor.
Tears filled John's eyes as he took in the distressed look on his husband's face.
"John." He whispered disbelievingly.
"Sherlock." John whispered back.
Suddenly, Sherlock had his arms wrapped around the smaller man, face buried in his neck. John wrapped his good arm that wasn't in a sling around the slender waist and rested his head on Sherlock's chest, closing his eyes. Breathing in the scent of his lover's coat he simply thought home.
"I - I thought-" Sherlock choked out quietly.
"Hush. It's okay. I'm okay. I'm here." His right hand reached up to rub Sherlock's soft brown curls. Sherlock leaned into the touch. "Hey love?"
"Mm?" Sherlock hummed.
"We have an audience." John continued whispering in his ear.
"Well. Let's give them something to watch then, John." Sherlock pulled away slightly. John opened his eyes again.
"Wha-?"
John was cut off by soft lips pressing gently against his own. He melted into the warm hold surrounding him. John couldn't tell if it was a minute or a million before he heard a wolf-whistle.
John blushed, pulling away, but still leaning against Sherlock.
Lestrade, whom he had met a little after he had met Sherlock, was a warm face among a sea of shocked ones.
"John. Good to see you back, mate." Lestrade smiled.
"Greg. It's nice to see you."
"What-"
"Who's Greg?"
"Greg Lestrade, Sherlock. That's his name. I don't understand why you keep deleting it."
"It's not important."
The shock seemed to be wearing off.
"What, are you the Freak's boyfriend? Or did he pay you to act?" The woman said.
"Excuse me?" John replied with a sickly sweet tone.
"Pft. He must be blackmailing you or something."
"Excuse you, but you will not insult my husband in my presence." John stepped away from Sherlock and towards the woman.
"As if. Who would marry the Freak?"
"Someone with a heart, perhaps?"
"How dare you! You must be just as insane to even think that he's capable of anything but being a psychopath!"
"..." John took a deep breath. Sally, taking this as a sign of weakness instead of the steadying action it was, continued.
"And who even let a civilian on the scene? If you're so infatuated with the Freak, go shag him or something. And if it gets him out of our hair that'll be just great."
"Well, Donovan. What's YOUR clearance level, hm?"
"I'm a Delta red." She preened.
"Huh. Pretty standard."
"Oh yeah? As if you have any clearance, idiot!"
Sherlock bristled. John just smirked.
"Well, if you must know, I'm an Alpha yellow."
Her eyes threatened to pop out of her head. Sherlock looked impressed.
"I didn't know you were that high. Mycroft's only a Beta black and I'm only a Beta green. How'd you get that clearance?"
"Well, love, that just so happens to be above your clearance level."
Sherlock pouted. Then his eyebrows furrowed.
"How exactly did you get shot? The reports weren't exactly clear."
Not even questioning the detective's awareness of the situation, John smiled.
"You're brilliant. I was tending to a kid who got shot in the leg pretty bad. A sniper got a shot in before five shots from my squad took him out. The kid's been honorably discharged. He has a limp that'll probably never go away, but he survived. As for me, I'll have only slightly limited mobility in my left shoulder if I'm religious about exercising it. As you know, it got infected. I had a seizure or two while I was out, so I'm no longer fit for duty. I've been honorably discharged as well. I'll be receiving several awards for bravery and such. I don't see why it's just me getting it but-"
"John. You attended to five soldiers while being shot at by the enemy, pulled them to safety at the risk of your own life, and even while bleeding out you gave orders to save your patients. What part of that is not brave?"
"I just did my duty-"
"You truly went above and beyond the call of duty. Your service had been exemplary. I was personally there when it was discussed what awards you would receive. It was a unanimous decision."
"What awards is he to be receiving?"
"The Military Cross," Eyebrows were raised here, shocked that this little man was receiving such an honor. "And the Victoria Cross." Here gasps were heard around the room.
"The Victoria Cross?!"
"You?!"
Through the exclamations of disbelief that were shooting around the room, John heard Sherlock clearly.
"Well done, John."
"Thank you, love."
They smiled gently at one another.
"Let's go home." John whispered.
"After you."
They left the gaping officers and grinning DI behind.
A/N- Wow! I'm on a roll! I really like this one, but I didn't really know how to end it. I might make a sequel or something, if there's enough demand or inspiration. Idk. Please leave a review! Dftba! :)