CHAPTER FOUR
A/N Spoilers and whatnot in Chapter One.
For Juliemagg.
Greg expected John to turn up at his place after Sherlock's funeral and he wasn't disappointed. John had been a regular visitor ever since Sherlock's death, as if Greg were an addiction he couldn't shake. They would always end up in bed, as if sex would make the pain go away.
It might have helped but Greg had his suspicions that he was nothing more than a warm body to John, and it hurt. He had long come to terms about his feelings for John, he had hoped John might come to feel the same, but even he could not have factored in such a huge plot twist.
It had been one of those weird, muggy days when they had laid Sherlock to rest, but that was nothing compared to the sultry look in John's eyes when he appeared at Greg's door, just drunk enough to be alluring and Greg couldn't help himself. He could no more resist John Watson than he could resist gravity and, if the truth were told, John wasn't the only one in need of some comfort that night.
Greg was up early the next morning, waiting for John as he came down the stairs. Silently he handed John a cup of coffee.
"Thanks. I should…"
"Disappear again till the next time you feel horny?"
"That wasn't what I was going to say," said John.
"Wasn't it? It was what you were thinking though."
Greg filled up his travel mug with steaming black coffee.
"I'm getting sick of being used, John."
John was momentarily speechless. He'd never seen Greg angry before.
"I've got to go to work now," Greg continued. "Consider this an ultimatum. It's time to turn the page or close the book, John, because I can't go on like this. If you're here when I get back, great, we can take it from there. If not, well, we both know where we stand. It'll be over and done."
"Why are you being like this all of a sudden?" asked John.
"Casual sex isn't enough anymore. The occasional date when you or I can be bothered isn't enough anymore. I'm in love with you, you bloody idiot."
With that, Greg walked out of the kitchen and closed the front door behind him.
"Oh, Greg. I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the closed door.
All that day Greg resisted the urge to check his phone. He was both dreading and anticipating the return home. He'd never been one for dramatic confrontations but he hadn't been able to help himself that morning.
"Nice going, genius," he muttered to himself.
It was later that he planned when he left Scotland Yard and drove home only to find his house in complete darkness.
"Shit," he groaned as he got out of the car, fumbling the keys to his house into his hand. He switched on the downstairs lights as he walked through. The kitchen was spotless, everything in its proper place. Greg sank into one of the chairs and exhaled a huge, watery sigh.
So, his ultimatum hadn't worked. He was alone again. Standing up, he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. There was no point in getting upset, he was, after all, the one who started it. He was just reaching for a much-needed whisky when there was a loud knock at the front door.
"Not now, "he groaned as he opened it.
And there was John. Shamefaced, true, but there, his hands full of takeaway bags.
"What…?" Greg couldn't believe his eyes.
"I got locked out," confessed John. "So, I thought I'd make good use of my time. I've been job hunting and I brought dinner…"
"Come in." said Greg, dazed. "I thought…"
"That I wasn't coming back? No chance. Greg, I owe you an apology. "
"Come in before whatever's in those bags goes stone cold," said Greg.
John followed him into the kitchen and accepted a huge glass of whisky from Greg.
"I'm sorry," he continued. "We didn't get off to the best of starts and so much has happened recently, I feel like I'm living someone else's life, but you were the only constant in my life, you still are. I'm sorry if you felt used, that was never my intention. I think I was just too ashamed to admit that I needed you as much as I did."
He looked at Greg for the first time since coming into the kitchen and was relieved to see a smile on his face. John took Greg's hand in his.
"I just want there to be an us again. Another fresh start so I can appreciate what an amazing man you are. If that's what you want too."
"Get the plates," said Greg, squeezing John's hand, "I'm starving."
SIX MONTHS LATER
John placed his freshly-washed mug in the rack and left it to dry. He checked his watch and realised he'd better get a move on or he'd be late for work. Just before he left, he wrote a message for Greg on the chalkboard in the kitchen.
'CHRISTMAS DRINKS WITH WORK MATES TONIGHT. FOX AND GOOSE FROM 7pm. LOVE, J xx'
One day, John hoped, Greg would read the message he left for him every day, but after all this time he conceded that it was a forlorn hope. Greg was deep undercover and John hadn't heard from or seen him in three weeks. In the house that they shared Greg was everywhere. Understandably for it had been his house. Now it was theirs, from the new bed to the collection of mismatched crockery in the cupboards and, John had to admit, it was the first place he had really felt at home for a very long time.
He and Greg had a life together and John didn't regret a single second of it for he was in love with Greg Lestrade. He'd just found it difficult to say. He had always been a man of action rather than one of passionate declaration. Now Greg was in very real danger, John was under no illusions about that, and John hoped above all else he would have the chance to tell Greg exactly how he felt.
Afternoon surgery seemed to last forever, but it was finally done and John switched off his computer and locked away his prescription pad. He smiled at the photo of Greg on his desk. He had taken it, not long after they had started living together and it had captured Greg's gorgeous smile and his beautiful eyes.
"Where are you?" he murmured. "Promise me you'll come back."
"Talking to yourself, John?" asked a cheery Northern voice from the door. He turned to see Grace, a fellow doctor in the practice, grinning at him.
"Losing my marbles, "he replied with a grin of his own.
"Come on, we're the last to leave. Everyone else will be pissed by the time we get there."
John needed no second bidding, happy to be spending more time with Grace who he liked enormously.
They made it to the pub and joined the rest of their colleagues who were a sociable lot and could drink like sailors on shore leave.
"Greg coming tonight?" asked Grace, passing John a bottle of beer.
"I dunno. I'm not exactly sure where he is." Grace knew Greg was a policeman, but John didn't elaborate and she was bright enough not to ask.
"Okay. I'll keep my fingers crossed he makes it back for Christmas," she said.
She realised she was talking to herself when she looked at John and saw his whole face light up like someone had put a new battery in him. And she saw the reason making its way towards them through the crowd. Tall, silver-haired and smiling. John's Greg. John was on his feet and across the room like Usain Bolt off the starting blocks, throwing himself into Greg's arms and holding him tightly.
"Hello, love," said Greg softly, kissing John on the cheek.
"I missed you so much, "John confessed.
"I missed you more," murmured Greg. "I went home and saw your message, so here I am."
"There's something I need to tell you," said John, still holding tightly to the man he loved. "I love you, Greg."
"I know," smiled Greg. "I am a detective, you know. Ow"
"You git!" exclaimed John, after he punched Greg on the arm.
"Knowing it and hearing it are two different things, John. I'm glad you said it. You know how much I love you."
"Let's go home and you can show me exactly how much you missed me," suggested John. Greg gave him what could only be described as a leer.
"Are you ready for a demonstration like that?" he asked.
"After three weeks?" grinned John. "You're lucky I haven't dragged you into the toilets. Or would you have to charge yourself with lewd behaviour?"
Greg laughed and took John's hand, leading him out of the pub. John gave Grace an apologetic smile but she waved him away with a knowing grin. Lucky sod.
The former Yugoslavia wasn't exactly abundant with cyber-cafes but Sherlock was a resourceful man. He logged on to his encrypted e-mail account and found a message waiting for him. He would delete it soon but, just for now, he let himself smile as he re-read the brief communication.
THEY WERE MARRIED YESTERDAY AND THE FIRST TOAST AT THE RECEPTION WAS TO ABSENT FRIENDS. WHEN IT'S TIME TO RETURN I THINK THEY MAY EVENTUALLY FORGIVE YOU, LITTLE BROTHER.
MH
The End.