"It wasn't nice, what you did." Was Greg's opening line when he spotted John.

The doctor huffed a laugh as he sat down on the barstool next to him. "No, it wasn't." he agreed.

"But..." Greg sighed, taking a sip of his pint. "I can see why you both did it."

"Well that's good." John said as he motioned to the bartender for a drink.

"You know everything then?" he continued when the glass arrived.

"Yeah. Mycroft visited me the other day. Gave me a right fright, sneaking into my office in the middle of the night."

"He would do that, though, wouldn't he?" John said, and Greg smiled, glad that the doctor wasn't being hostile with him. The DI would not have blamed him if he had, he certainly felt as if he deserved it.

He looked down into his drink and cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have been so short with you, John, it wasn't fair."

John opened his mouth to say something, but Greg held up his hand. "Just let me finish." he said, and the doctor nodded to show he was listening.

"Mycroft told me how you didn't want to keep Sherlock in the dark. And really, I know you'd never submit willingly if you knew Sherlock would suffer in the long term. So yeah, I should have waited for an explanation before casting judgement."

"Don't worry about it, mate." John said gently. "It's understandable, anyhow. I can see how Mycroft reappearing at that crime scene and then finding out I was involved would look to you."

"A crime scene wasn't the best place for him to pop up." Greg said, shaking his head.

"No. And I told him off for that, don't worry." John said, and the DI chuckled.

"His jaw wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked, trying to sound concerned but he was still smiling.

"A bit of ice and it was fine."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have hit him."

"Nonsense, someone had to do it. Mrs Hudson slapped him when she found out." John said with a grin.

"She didn't."

"She did."

"Oh God would I have loved to have seen that." Greg chuckled.

"Mmm, the whole thing was very undignified." John said absentmindedly, clearly recalling the scene.

"You were there?"

"Yeah, it was just after Sherlock... left." he said with a cough, clearly wishing he hadn't let that slip.

"Left?" Greg echoed, frowning.

"Uh, yeah. He walked out when he saw Mycroft for the first time."

"I wouldn't have thought he'd do that." Greg said. "Surely shouting would have been involved?"

"No, he - he only left because he found out that I had known all along." John mumbled.

"Ah." Greg realised.

"Yeah."

"Didn't take that too well, then?"

"You could say that, yes." John said, but he shrugged. "Can see where he was coming from. It's not easy, I can tell you."

"And you know all too well." Greg agreed. "But still, don't tell me you were completely understanding."

"I understood, Greg, but that's not to say I was pleased about it." John said. "I knew I'd just have to wait for Sherlock to come to me, which he did only a few hours later admittedly, so it wasn't too bad."

"But he'd been giving you the cold shoulder a week before that." the DI argued.

"Well, yeah, but that was for a completely different reason. That I definitely could understand."

"You mean when you got him out of that car park?" Greg asked.

"Yes."

"I never knew that was the reason." Greg muttered, and they both took a sip of their drinks.

"Understandable, like I said." John continued.

"Though still frustrating."

"Still frustrating, that's true." the doctor nodded. "But he had thought he'd lost his brother and I didn't exactly allow time for goodbyes, to be fair."

"Yes, but you knew there was no need for goodbyes."

"He didn't, though." John countered. "And that's why I tried to get Mycroft to come back as soon as possible. Sherlock never got any closure, he was suffering."

"You didn't get any closure." Greg said before he realised, and John closed his eyes.

"That was different." he said quietly.

"How was it?" Greg implored. "Sherlock faked his death to save us and Mycroft faked his death to save Sherlock. That bloody git barely gave you a chance to say anything before he jumped. How is it different?" he asked fiercely.

"Don't, Greg." John said, and Greg released a breath.

"Sorry." he muttered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

"It's fine."

"Stop saying everything's fine!" he shouted, banging his hand on the bar. John jumped, and people around them looked at the DI with surprise. Greg ignored them.

"Will you please stop saying that you understand, that all can be forgiven? It's not as easy as that. You and Sherlock suffered, and you shouldn't have to brush that under the carpet and assure us that everything's peachy, because it's not!"

He had no idea where that came from, he really didn't, but John was so selfless sometimes that it was infuriating, and Greg's short temper decided to take it out on the man that felt as if he deserved it.

"You should be shouting." he said, though his voice was still raised. "You should be ranting that it wasn't fair; it wasn't fair on Sherlock, on me, on Mycroft, on you. Stop sitting there and tell me what's going on in that bloody head of yours."

John was looking down, utterly silent. When Greg paused for breath, he spoke.

"Are you talking about Mycroft's death or Sherlock's?" he asked quietly.

All the air deserted Greg and left him reeling. Well, now he felt bad. Because of course John had bottled everything up when Sherlock returned. Yes, anger had been shown, but apparently not everything had been discussed. Because wasn't that just like John, to remain calm and fade into the background whilst everybody flitted over Sherlock, the returned hero. Oh, he wasn't having a dig at Sherlock. No, he had been pleased to have the overzealous detective come back, and he was sure John had been just as happy. But that wasn't to say John was always going to be a-ok with it, and he'd probably never had a chance to say so, not with everything that had happened with Moran after.

"It depends." he said eventually. "What did you think I was talking about?"

John shrugged. "I don't know." he said, and Greg sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get an answer out of the man next to him.

"Well maybe you need to speak to Sherlock, not me." he said softly.

"It was ages ago, he'd think I was still holding a grudge or something when I'm not."

"Then you can tell him he doesn't have the right to think that. He was the one who left you, after all. Yes I know it was for a good cause, but that doesn't take the sting out of it much. And if you can't say that then I'll come round and say it for you."

John smiled and raised his glass to his lips. "There'd be a full-on shouting match if that happened. I'd have to hide in Mrs Hudson's flat."

"As if you'd ever shy away from a fight." Greg said.

"Sherlock wouldn't relent until he won."

"All the more reason to have you upstairs and not down, so you can back me up."

The doctor chuckled and Greg grinned. The two sat in retrospective silence for a while, sipping their beer. John's phone chimed and he pulled it out to read the text.

"Speak of the devil." he muttered, then looked back up at the DI. "Sorry, I've got to go. He's set the kitchen on fire and can't work out how to put it out."

"Of course he has." Greg said. "You're a saint, John, you really are."

John just smiled as he put on his jacket. "Speak to you later?

"Yeah, see you later." Greg answered. "Actually, John," he called, gripping the doctor's arm to prevent him from leaving.

"If you do need to rant or something, you know I'm here, don't you?"

"Don't I always rant to you?" John asked with a half-hearted smile, trying to deflect the question.

"That's not what I meant." Greg said seriously.

"I know." John answered. "And yes, I do know. Cheers."

Greg nodded and let go, watching as John wound his way across the pub. On the way the doctor put his phone to his ear, and Greg heard John say, "I swear to God Sherlock, if the kitchen is still alight when I get back I am taking away your Rubik's Cube," causing the DI to choke on his drink and burst out laughing.