Lestrade leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes after hours of research. He pulled away from his laptop and made his way into the den, sitting down heavily on the sofa and flipping through some of the papers he printed. Sherlock wasn't a hard name to find due to it's obscurity, and with his connections and such he had found out the address of this Sherlock Holmes that his friend seemed to be wrapped up in.

"I should pay this fellow a visit." He murmured, dropping the files on his table before getting up and making his way to his bedroom. A few hours sleep and he'll be right to test this bastard.

–

Sherlock was mid-experiment when he was informed that someone was there to see him. He muttered under his breath, "Tell them to go away."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Sherlock glanced up to see an average sized male with grey hair standing in the doorway of his room with a harried looking butler- whom scampered off quickly.

"Can I help you?" Sherlock asked, his displeasure obvious as he regarded the man.

"Yes. I'd like to know what you're doing with my friend, John Watson?"

Sherlock cocked a brow and stared harshly at him, "My therapist? What about him?"

Lestrade stared back, gaze unwavering, "Is that all he is to you?"

"What's it to you?" Sherlock growled, his manner getting defiant as he made his way into the personal space of the other, "Why is his friend bothering me?"

"How old are you."

The sudden change in subject startled Sherlock, who muttered out, "Seventeen."

"You're way to young to be with him, let alone courting. What are you doing?"

"I do believe that is none of your business. Why are you bothering me? It's his choice, not yours. Get out of my house." Sherlock growled, pushing the man out of his room.

"What's going on here?"

Sherlock and Lestrade glanced down the hall to see a rather cross Mycroft glaring at them.

"None of your business, brother." Sherlock stated, before entering his room and closing the door with a click.

"Is he always like that?" Lestrade asked, looking at the chubby redhead whom was glaring at the closed door with a look of dismay before muttering, "Unfortunately."

Lestrade walked up to the pale man and outstretched a hand, "I'm Greg, you are?"

Mycroft looked up through his lashes, startled by an unknown feeling welling in his gut as he hesitantly shook the others hand, "Mycroft."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mycroft." Lestrade said, a winning smile on his face as he stared at the short man. "I best be going, I hope to see you again sometime."

Mycroft stared after the athletic man, a look of longing on his features that quickly turned to one of exasperation as he heard the sound of glass breaking and curses. He sighed and went to get the first-aid kit.

John sat watching crap telly while eating dinner when he heard his phone buzz. He picked it up and saw he had a message.

Meet me outside. SH

John looked baffled over the text but slipped his shoes and coat on before walking outside. He saw the teen smoking while impatiently waiting. He started to wonder how Sherlock knew his address, but then again the teen was smart.

"Didn't expect to see you tonight." John said, walking down the steps and sitting down; the brunette sat next to him.

"Brother was bothering me." Sherlock said, "Oh, your friend visited me."

"My friend?" John looked at Sherlock, confused.

"Grey hair, recently divorced."

John let out a sigh, "Yeah, that would be Greg Lestrade. He must be trying to protect me again." Sherlock cocked a brow in question. "We have been friends for a while and any time I date someone new he goes and investigates them."

"Overbearing."

The two sat outside, talking for another hour before Sherlock headed home. John had work the next day and needed to sleep but, of course, that usually involved a wet dream of Sherlock. He took a deep breath and laid down to sleep, ready for those nightly dreams to commence once again.

winterimperfect wrote the first part, i just wrote the end.