"Can I come stay with you?"
"You've never asked before, why are you starting now?"
"It's going to be an extended period of time this time around..."
"Why?"
"John kicked me out and I'm not allowed back at Baker Street for an indefinite amount of time."
Greg sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was incredibly behind on paperwork and he knew it would be a late night. This phone call just made his day much more complicated.
"Alright, but I'm at work right now and when I get home, were laying down some ground rules, ok?"
"When will you be home?" Sherlock's voice is soft and a bit sad and Greg closes his eyes.
"I'm not sure, sunshine. Late. I'm really behind because of that serial killers trial."
"Alright," the young man muttered. "I'll find something to keep myself occupied until you get home."
"Keep it legal, Sherlock."
The line went dead and Greg sighed heavily before going back to his paperwork.
It was well after midnight when Greg finally unlocked the door to his flat.
"Sherlock?" He called as he kicked his shoes off just inside the door. A dark mass Greg hadn't seen on the couch jerked and sat up to reveal Sherlock.
"Greg?" The man murmured groggily. Greg's heart melted at the sight of the sleepy consultant and he herded the man off the couch and down the hall.
"To bed with you. We'll talk in the morning."
Sherlock flopped down on the bed, fast asleep again and Greg was quick to change and crawl in next to him.
When Greg woke up the next morning, Sherlock was still in bed in a state of half-consciousness. Greg smiled and stroked the detective's dark hair and murmured small endearments against his forehead. Sherlock woke up slowly but surely under Greg's ministrations.
"What were your ground rules for my staying here?"
"No violin playing between midnight and 6 am. No experiments that will damage my appliances or my kitchen table. Try to keep your comings and goings to decent times of day. No cigarettes. No body parts in my fridge. No firearms."
Sherlock groaned loudly and his face scrunched up in annoyance. Greg chuckled and kissed Sherlock's forehead.
"This is what happens when you upset your flat mate enough to get kicked out, sunshine."
Sherlock continued to grumble unhappily for some time before he rolled out of bed and walked out of the room. There was an alarming amount of clattering and crashing going on in the kitchen and Greg was really quite reluctant to go inspect the source. Some time later, though, the clattering stopped and the sound of bare feet slapping the hardwood announced Sherlock's arrival. He was carrying a tray, loaded down with both tea and coffee, toast and jam, eggs, sausage, bacon and, oddly enough, a couple of scones. Sherlock set the tray on Greg's lap and perched on the edge of the bed.
Greg smiled fondly up at Sherlock, picks up the cup of coffee and thrusts the tea in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock sips the tea slowly, watching Greg munch on his breakfast contentedly. Once Greg leaned back against the headboard, nudging the tray away slightly, Sherlock stood, picked up the tray and leaned forward to kiss the DIs forehead.
"Thank you," he whispered before sweeping out of the room to do the washing up.