Couple 1

It's not often that Mycroft and Greg are graced with the other's presence in the middle of the day.

Not often as in hardly ever.

Hardly ever as in never.

But sometimes –apparently- their jobs meet and they must work together.

Luckily, neither have called Sherlock yet.

"Oh, Mycroft." Greg says as the elevator doors open to the site of Mycroft talking with his assistant Bart.

"Greg? What are you doing here?"

Greg motions behind him at Sally and Anderson. "We were called."

"Oh, of course, of course. This way, please."

The three follow Mycroft into his office. Mycroft goes over the gist of the case: Co-worker of Mycroft's found dead in his flat this morning by his wife and young son. Male, age 37. Enemies, of course, probably. Found with bruises around his left temple and broken ribs.

"Have you called—" Greg began.

"Not yet, I was hoping it wouldn't come to that."

"Me too." Anderson snorted from behind Greg. Mycroft glared. Greg glared. Sally wondered why Anderson would say that in front of his brother that could have him dead in an instant.

"Well, I'll probably call him."

"Yes, I'll do it." Mycroft took his phone out to call Sherlock.

"Sherlock."

"Sherlock, listen, we need your help."

"Of course," Sherlock chuckles, "Where?"

"My office."

"You say 'we'."

"Yes, NSY and I."

Sherlock laughs, "Is Lestrade there?"

"Yes, they are."

Sherlock laughs again, "How's that going?"

"Are we doing this?"

"Isn't this what brothers do?"

"No, it's not."

"I'll be there in ten."

Mycroft and the other three begin going over evidence one more time. Greg lifts a photo of the victim one more time. "Henry Jones," Greg pauses to think then looked at Mycroft "Is this the guy you were telling me about yesterday that—" He cut himself off. He glances at Sally. Sally looked at him confused.

Mycroft coughs, "Yes, he was," he says quickly.

"Wait, what?" Sally asks.

"What?"

"Do you two…talk?"

"What?"

"Yesterday?"

"N-no," Greg stutters. He and Mycroft exchange a glance.

Sally eyes them suspiciously. Luckily, Sherlock arrives moments later and distracts everyone by with his high-horse of confidence. He solves the murder in record time, and the closing small talk after is just normal enough for Greg to escape without any more weird to go on. That is, until Sherlock says good-bye in form of, "Brother." Then turns to Greg, "Brother's boyfriend."

Greg will never again take a call from Mycroft's office. Not. Ever. Again. And if he does, Sherlock's not invited.

Couple 2

"Will you come?" is all Lestrade has to ask for Sherlock and John to be there. And it's often, mind you. Often enough that Sherlock's on Lestrade's speed dial, often enough that Lestrade's not sure which Holmes he sees more often. Often enough that John doesn't even bother checking to see if it is a '7', just because they're both that bored and will take whatever case is available.

Usually, while Sherlock's standing over a body and deducing away, John can only form words like, "Brilliant." Or "Amazing." Or "Superb." Or, if it's really doin' something for him, he'll get up on his toes and whisper "Sexy," at the lengthy detective.

But this time: John? Oh, John. John has his brilliance. John has his amazingness. John has his superbness. John has his sexiness. Sometimes, this time, John is the one to solve the crime. It's not hard, he's picked up on a few deduction skills from Sherlock.

John sits on the couch in Lestrade's office next to a boy named Ted. Ted is 7 and lost. "It's ok, Ted. Now, tell us where you live."

"I don't know. I don't know the address."

"How did you get here?"

"I was at the park, then I couldn't find my babysitter and so I walked around for a while until I saw a police officer."

"And you told him you were lost?" Ted nods. "Ok. What is your babysitter's name?"

"Linda."

"Do you know Linda's mobile number?" Ted shakes his head. "Do you know Linda's last name?"

"Wilson."

John looks up at Sally, silently indicating to her to scan for the name. "Ok, Ted. Just a few more things. What are your parent's names?"

"Mary and Tom."

"What are their last names?"

"Gray."

"Do you know their mobile numbers?"

"No."

"Do you know where they work?"

"My dad works in a bank. And my mum works in a school."

"All right. We'll find them, Ted."

Ted tugs at his left arm, trying to scratch and not hurt himself at the same time.

"What's going on there, Ted?" John asks.

"N-nothing."

"Have you got a rash? I'm a doctor, I can look at it."

"N-no. it's nothing."

"You don't want to let me see, Ted?"

Ted shakes his head. Five minutes later, while the grown ups are talking, John sees him clutch at his stomach and scratch the same way. "Ted? Can I take a look, please?" Ted begins to cry. He looks around the room at all the grown ups watching him and begins to cry harder. "Ted? Ted, look at me. Do you want everyone to leave so I can take a look at your arm and stomach?" Ted nods. Lestrade and everyone else leaves, even Sherlock. Once gone, Ted lifts his sweatshirt sleeve, revealing a large black bruise. Then he lifts his shirt and shows John the bruises on his stomach. "Ted, who did this?"

Ted stops crying. He lowers his shirt and whispers, "I can't tell."

"You can tell me, Ted, and I can make it so nobody does it again."

"They told me not to."

"You can tell me, I promise nothing will happen." John's having trouble keeping his voice calm while anger was surging through him. "Was it your mummy?"

"No."

"Was It your daddy?"

"No."

"Was it Linda?"

"No."

"Was it your teacher?"

"No."

"Please, Ted. We can help you."

"I can't." Ted began to cry again.

John covers his face, "Ok. Let me go talk to Mr. Lestrade once more, ok, Ted? I'll be right back." John goes to the hall and nearly screams in frustration. "We can't let him go home, Greg."

"If I've got nothing to go on, John, then I can't keep him."

"You can't let him go home where someone's hurting him."

"But I can't, not without evidence and—"

"Your bloody evidence is on the kid, Greg!" John shouts.

"John," Sherlock grabs John's elbow, "Calm—"

"Do not bloody tell me to calm down, Sherlock. I see this every day at the clinic, kids being beat by someone that loves them. No way, no way am I letting this go."

Half an hour later, while John is comforting Ted by playing games and making jokes, Linda shows up. She had been looking for Ted, as well, and once she got the call she showed up right away.

When Ted sees her coming through the desks of NSY, he tenses in John's arms. John looks down at Ted, then up at Lestrade, who is now watching Ted's face transform into content and happy to sad and scared. Sherlock is one second behind the other two, finally picking up on what's happening when Lestrade exits the office and intercepts Linda before she gets to the door.

"Just a few more questions, ma'am." They hear Lestrade say to Linda.

John looks down at Ted, "Ted, is she the one that's hurting you? Please tell me, Ted. We're going to help you."

Ted looks up at John with water in his eyes, then over to Sherlock. Sherlock sees the hurt and fear in his eyes and knows without a doubt that it's Linda that's been hurting him. Lestrade looks through the glass window at Sherlock, Sherlock nods, then Lestrade places Linda under arrest. She shouts and squirms the whole way out of the office.

Ted gives a relieved sigh as he watches Linda go.

"She won't hurt you again, Ted." John says. Ted faintly smiles up at him, John smiles up at Sherlock, Sherlock smiles down at both of them.

"Brilliant." Is what Sherlock's saying on their way to 221B after explaining the situation to Ted's mother. "Amazing. Superb."

"You might want to consider using words that I don't use. It kind of means less the way you're doing it."

"Extraordinary, John. Really. Not even I saw it. How did I not see it? Why did I not see it?"

"I see it every day, Sherlock. I know what it looks like. I know how I feel when I see it. Not good. Not good one bit."

"I'm proud, John."

"Now you know how I feel when you're brilliant."

"I like it, John."

"Me too."

Couple 3

"Can you hurry up?" Jim asks as Sebatian's holding his breath and trying to steady himself.

He lets his breath out, "Can you shut the hell up? This takes time, it's not a quick process."

"We have reservations at 8."

"Calm down, it's 6:45."

"Yeah, and at the rate you're going it's going to take us all night."

"I'm trying to shoot someone, Jim. I'm not buying new shoes," Sebastian holds his breath again, then lets it go, "Come to think of it, you buying shoes takes longer than this, so stop complaining."

"Just get on with it! It's not a bloody Picasso."

"Yeah, and it's not a bloody sport, Jim. So shut the hell up or take your reservations by yourself."

Five minutes of silence is ruined by, "Now."

"Jim."

"Seb."

"Go away."

"I'm not leaving without you, dear."

"Touching."

"You've got the cash."

Sebastian glares at Jim. "Shut up, then."

Three minutes of silence is ruined by, "Do it."

Sebastian sighs loudly, "Shut. Your. Fucking. Annoying. Little. Mouth."

One minute of silence is ruined by, "Go."

"Jesus Christ, Jim!" Sebastian stands and violently throws his hands in the air, "You fucking do it, then!"

Sebastian steps away from his perch behind the pillar and lets Jim settle in. Sebastian sits down and leans against the other side of the small walkway they're stuck in. Jim watches him sit.

"Get on with it, then." Sebastian says, lighting a cigarette. Jim watches him, then goes back to the scene through the scope: two men exchanging briefcases behind a building. "Do you even know which one it is?"

"May as well just shoot both." Jim says absentmindedly.

Silence is completely ruined by Sebastian's drags and releases.

"Can you stop that?" Jim asks.

"Nope." Sebastian takes a loud drag.

Five minutes of silence is ruined by, "Wrong."

"What?"

"You're doing it wrong."

"How am I doing it wrong, I'm shooting someone?"

"Don't put your finger on the trigger until you're positive."

"I think I can do this, Seb. It's not rocket science."

"All right." Sebastian takes another loud drag.

Three minutes of silence is ruined by Sebastian lighting a match, startling Jim. Jim jerks and pulls the trigger, letting a bullet sail over the supposed-to-be-victim's head.

"God fucking damn it, Seb."

"I told you."

"Fine, you know what? Fine. You do it." Jim stands, meeting Sebastian's chest with his own chest. He plucks the cigarette from Sebastian's lips and places it between his own.

"I need silence. And time."

"Take your time, dear."

Sebastian whispers to himself, "Three," he holds his breath, letting a little out for, "Two." He places his finger over the trigger.

"One," Jim says from behind Sebastian as Sebastian pulls the trigger.

"God damn it, James Moriarty. I'm going to shoot you right now, I swear it!"

"Did you get him?"

"Yes, I did, but no thanks to you, you annoying little pri—"

"Then obviously you weren't that bothered."

"Shut up. You're not coming along next time, even if we do 'Have reservations and this is just easier'," he tries to make his voice smooth and suave like Jim's, "Let's go."

"You like it when I'm here," Jim says as he pokes Sebastian's side while Sebastian packs.

"I don't."

"You do."

"Where are our reservations?"

"That place we had the night you killed that Argentinean man."

"I didn't like that place."

"You never told me that."

"I hardly ate my food."

"I didn't think about it."

"'Course not," Sebastian pulls his bag over his shoulder, "What am I to do with this while we eat?"

"I don't know, take it with you."

Sebastian glares at Jim, "Oh good, I can use it if you're extra annoying."

"Funny," Jim presses a light kiss to Sebastian's cheek, "Let's go."

"After you, Boss."

*Ok, I can't figure out how to put breaks to indicate where each story starts and begins. I hope you can figure it out, if you can't, the second story starts at "Will you come?" and the third starts at "Can you hurry up?" If anyone can give me a tip as to how to put page breaks, that'd be greatly appreciated. Please enjoy and review!