Sally Donovan stood just out of sight of Greg Lestrade's office, trying to bring her laughter under control. After a few deep breaths, she walked through the open door and burst into giggles.
"You heard?" Greg asked, with a smirk on his face.
"They're in a holding cell."
"Yup."
"Since last night?"
"Oh, yeah." Greg taunted Sally with his phone. "I have photos from the police car."
"Hand it over."
Greg tapped his chin with the mobile. "Hmm… how bad do you want to see?"
"Oh, come on."
"Let me think about this for a moment … oh, the paperwork on the Flaherty case. That should do it."
The Flaherty case had been a straightforward homicide: crime of passion, complete confession, barely any extraneous paperwork at all. Sally laughed.
"Deal. You must really want to share."
Greg grinned and tossed his phone, which Sally effortlessly grabbed out of the air. There was an album full of dark blurry photos of Sherlock and John. Both seemed to be asleep, John with one arm around Sherlock, who had his head on John's shoulder.
Sally scrutinized one of the images. "Is Sherlock drooling?"
Greg chuckled. "Probably. Both of them were drunk off their arses. Never seen either one of them so bad off." He hesitated. "Well, not since…"
Sally knew Greg was thinking back to the times he found John buried in a bottle during Sherlock's years away. But this bout of drinking was undoubtedly something more innocuous in nature.
"Stag night?"
"Yeah," said Greg.
Sally caved in to her curiosity. "Don't take this the wrong way, boss, but you weren't invited?"
Greg shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Sherlock wanted it to just be the two of them. He had something special planned." He paused for effect. "A bar crawl on streets where they had found corpses."
Sally thought for a few moments before responding. "I don't know what this says about me, but that's so romantic."
Greg's smile dimmed as he said, "Well, that's Sherlock."
"So what happened? Did they get thrown out of a bar?"
"No, the two idiots went on a case."
Sally's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"
"Yes, and a landlord didn't take too kindly to Sherlock vomiting all over his floor. Tried to throw Sherlock out."
Sally stared. "He didn't make the mistake of touching Sherlock, did he?"
"And now you know why John is in the cell, too."
Both detectives burst into laughter.
"So what did John's fiancée say when you told her?"
Greg rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and said, "Mary hasn't returned my calls."
"What?"
"I'm surprised, too. I called and left messages, plus I've texted her a few times. Never responded."
"That's strange. If I was marrying either one of those two and they were on their stag night, I'd be expecting a call from you."
"Perhaps that's why she isn't answering."
Sally shook her head. She had instantly disliked Mary, for some reasons clear to her and others not so much. Sally trusted her instincts, and they told her Mary was untrustworthy. But Sally figured that just meant that Mary was more than capable of lying and manipulating, not that she was a legitimate threat. She wondered why she got such a bad gut reaction from Mary not picking up her phone.
Greg sensed Sally's disquiet. "Maybe it was her hen party?"
Sally gnawed on her lower lip, then waved a dismissive hand. "Maybe. I'd still be too paranoid about these two to be out of contact."
"Perhaps she thought a night in a cell would give them time to repent for their sins."
Sally rolled her eyes. "Doubtful."
Greg smiled. "Let's go release them, eh?"
Sally and Greg walked down the drab corridors of New Scotland Yard. The news that Holmes and Watson were in custody had spread wide and far. Sally was amused by how many officers begged Greg to see the photos of the duo, and even touched at how Greg became protective and only shared with a select few.
"How have our boys been behaving?" asked Greg as he collected the keys from the desk sergeant.
The uniformed woman behind the counter laughed. "No complaints, can you believe it? I think they've been sleeping it off all night. Not a peep out of them."
Sally and Greg nodded at various passersby as they approached the holding cell. The solidity of its door was alleviated only by one narrow window. As they peered through, Sally realized that neither she nor Greg were prepared for the sight of the two men in the cell.
John slept on the floor, in a seated position. His head rested against the bench where Sherlock lay. Sherlock was curled close to John, with one hand resting on his shoulder. One of John's hands was clasped over it.
Sally whispered, "You know what they say about alcohol making you to do things you wouldn't do sober." She nodded towards the sleeping men. "They're cuddling."
Greg's voice was quiet and sad. "Yeah, they are."
Sally thought about all the times Sherlock showed up to crime scenes alone since his return. The times John appeared unexpectedly and Sherlock could not hide his delight. She thought of the defeated man John had become in Sherlock's absence and his resurgence with Sherlock at his side. She hated to disturb their peace. "Look, both of them are going to feel like shit when they wake up. How about we just let them be content like this for a while longer?"
Greg appraised Sally thoughtfully. "I'll wake them before the next shift comes on. Put them in a cab to Baker Street where Mrs. Hudson can take care of them." He shook his head. "Too many people have photos on their phones. John is going to kill me for this."
"Seize the opportunity, boss. Make folks pay you to keep the photos' existence from those two."
Greg laughed. "If it's too bad, I'll just ask Mycroft wipe the phones from afar."
"My-who?"
"Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother."
"And he can do things like wipe personal data from phones?"
Greg met Sally's gaze steadily. "Yes."
The unorthodox investigations. The drugs. The faked death. The lack of consequences. Sally considered the confidence Greg was expressing in her and decided not to push further. "That explains a lot."
"Oh, you have no idea." Greg turned away from the door. "I better return these keys."
Sally waited until Greg had walked back to the desk sergeant before taking out her own phone. Through the narrow window of the closed door, she took a photo of the two men, comforted in their closeness, thinking that some day Sherlock and John might need this memory.
