A/N: This is so overdue an update! I'm so sorry. So I started a new prompt blog (minorsherlockprompts dot tumblr dot com), so please please please feel free to send me prompts there! As I fill them they'll get posted here. I take all but Johnlock and Mystrade prompts (because it's for minor pairings specifically). Sorry this took so long!


Sherlock flopping into the chair in Greg's office didn't even register on the DI's mind until Sherlock made an irritated noise and Greg looked up, lifting an eyebrow. "John throw you out?" he asked mildly.

The scowl on Sherlock's face turned adorably petulant, and he would not meet Greg's eyes. Yes, then. They had just wrapped up a case, and Greg was doing the paperwork required to file charges and other administrative duties he had to fulfill. However, he was not surprise by Sherlock's appearance in his office.

He had predicted it the moment Sherlock had lept off the roof to land on the fire escape with John three or four metres behind him. It had been two years since Sherlock had jumped, and a year since he had returned from the dead. John mostly refused to go up to the roof, and had become violently sick the first time Sherlock had gone up on one after his return. Greg couldn't blame him, could not fault the numerous nightmares he witnessed sleeping with John at night.

"I can't go home until you're done," Sherlock muttered, drawing his legs up to his chest, a surprising feat considering the size of the chair and the length of his legs.

"That bad, eh?" Greg inquired.

Sherlock was silent and did not answer. Greg sighed, and then stood up and locked the door to his office. It was the middle of the night, and there was no one around, but it was better safe than sorry. He had close to an hour before he would be able to go home at the earliest, and that meant he would be back in very early tomorrow, but it would be worth it to restore the peace between his boyfriends. He sat back down in his chair, angling it to the side. "C'mere."

Sherlock scowled reluctantly at him for a few moments before unfurling and walking over to the DI, staring at him for a long second. Making a decision, he straddled Greg's lap and wrapped a lanky arm about Greg's shoulders, his head buried in the crook of Greg's neck. His face was completely hidden, curly hair going up Greg's nose and invading his personal space. Soothingly he ran his hands up and down the consulting detective's back, pressing his face into Sherlock's hair and inhaling deeply. It wasn't often that Sherlock allowed himself to be vulnerable, but sometimes he just needed the reassurance that he wasn't going to be left alone, abandoned by the two men that cared so deeply about him.

They sat like that for at least ten minutes, Greg pressing occasional kisses to the wild mass of hair. "You can do your paperwork in the morning," Sherlock said finally. Greg couldn't hide a smile, hearing the words underneath Sherlock's petulant, demanding tone.

He kissed Sherlock's head one last time and waited for the tall man to uncurl off of his lap. "Let's go home, love." Standing, he gave Sherlock a quick kiss before grabbing his coat, rubbing his thighs as he did so. Sherlock wasn't that heavy, but he was solid, and Greg's thighs could only stand so much before getting sore. They walked out of the Yard together, side by side, and hailed a taxi back to 221B Baker Street. Greg stayed there most nights, especially when he was needed.

When they arrived at Baker Street, John was sitting in the lounge with a mug of steaming tea clasped in his hands. Greg walked in with Sherlock trailing a little behind. The DI pressed a gentle hand to John's shoulder, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. "Tea, the ever-present British coping mechanism," he teased gently. John allowed a faint smile to curve the edge of his lips, but it tightened the moment Sherlock came into view.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said before Greg could say anything. His eyes were downcast, and he fidgeted nervously with his scarf. "I'm sorry."

Both men were quiet, attempting to figure out whether they had ever heard two 'I'm sorry' from Sherlock in a row. Even when he returned from the dead he had not apologised. The man's long fingers plucked at the sleeve of his coat, and Greg walked over and gently slid it off.

"You'll overheat with it on," Greg explained, careful to not make eye contact if Sherlock did not want it. Sherlock allowed Greg to manhandle him, enjoying the gentle, brief caresses.

"No more roofs," John said, watching Greg as he hung up Sherlock's prized Belstaff.

"No more roofs," Sherlock agreed quietly.

"One more time, Sherlock..." John started, unable to look in Sherlock's direction as he trailed off.

Sherlock walked over and carefully sank down into John's lap as he had done to Greg earlier. Greg sat down next to the two of them, rubbing Sherlock's back quietly. "Please." Sherlock's voice was so quiet that it was only due to proximity that either man heard it.

John pressed a gentle kiss to Sherlock's forehead and Greg smiled a half-smile at John when their eyes met. "Let's go to bed," Greg suggested. "Much more comfortable."

WIthout a word, Sherlock stood and walked into their bedroom, knowing they would follow, and placed his trust and fragile heart into the strong, protective hands of the two men who loved him.