Author's Note:

I have another chapter! This one was planned a while ago but I never got around to writing it and with my exams now over (finally!) I culd actually get some writing done. It's a bit more light-hearted than last time so I hope you enjoy.

Your reviews make me so happy and keep me going through the long, hard slog of A-levels. Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing!

Chapter 9- or, why Lestrade doesn't have kids

Baskerville had been a complete disaster of a case if Greg was completely honest. Sherlock had disappeared down to Devon and taken John with him and within a day or so he was getting a phone call from Mycroft. He should take a holiday and go to keep an eye on them. It was Holmes-speak for "I'm worried about him but I have no feelings so I can't show that I'm worried. Can you do it for me?" Greg had rolled his eyes (which he was certain Mycroft knew) and told the man that he was too busy at Scotland Yard to take a break. It was a lie and not a particularly good one but he was relishing in a break from Sherlock's incessant badgering. Mycroft's antsiness aside, he was perfectly happy with his current situation. Why did he need a holiday?

Two days later, he found himself in Devon quite unsure how he got there. Some time in the early hours of the morning, he had a call from Mycroft. "He broke into Baskerville using my ID. Find him." A half asleep Greg rolled out of bed - now far too large for just one person - and left. He arrived at the sole guesthouse in Baskerville just as Sherlock and John were returning from whatever adventure they had been on. Sherlock knew exactly what was going on. Greg helped with the case, as instructed, but the man still died. Now he had the unenviable job of driving the pair back to London. It was a four hour drive.

He wouldn't have described the experience as hell exactly but it was a pretty close thing. Sherlock and John were arguing over something or other and from his experience it was usually something incredibly daft so he wasn't really paying much attention. He had been there for most of it after all. "You drugged me!" Or not. He barely noticed they had been getting progressively louder the longer they argued unchecked and now he tuned in to the conversation. "It wouldn't have killed you, John. You're being ridiculous." John threw his hands in the air in exasperation and retorted with a angry "I trusted you and you drugged me. Do you have any idea what that's like?" Sherlock rolled his eyes although Greg saw him slump slightly in the mirror. This was hard on him, he knew. Sherlock didn't consider many people his friend and John, despite no being his intellectual equal, was one of Sherlock's closest. "You and your feelings," he sneered. "The drug wasn't in the sugar anyway. I don't know why you're making such a fuss." Greg sighed. Sherlock was going about this all wrong and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it so he focused on the road instead.

They were still arguing two hours later. "For the last time, the victim is not the killer in Cluedo. It's impossible." Sherlock mumbled something in return and John let out a yell of frustration. "I don't care if it's the only explanation. It's against the rules of the game, you idiot!" Greg chuckled to himself at their argument. They seemed to be friends again and arguments like this were normal for the pair. Taking out his cell phone, he fired off a text to Mycroft, hoping there were no cameras to catch him at it. They were on the home stretch now.

"Bored!"

"Sherlock put the gun away."

"But that just doesn't happen, John."

"It's not impossible."

"It's never identical twins."

By the time they were half an hour from London, Greg was ready to throw them out of the car. Since they had left Dartmoor, they had bickered non-stop and now he had the beginnings of a migraine and couldn't bear the noise anymore. He pulled over at the next service station and got out to grab a coffee. He didn't lock the car. When he got back, Sherlock was gone. "Where did he go?" John shrugged helplessly and waved a hand in the vague direction of the shop. "He went to get something, nicotine patches maybe. He didn't say." Greg's migraine was back with a vengeance.

With Sherlock finally back in the car again, they set off and the arguments began again. Caffeine was not a good enough stimulant for this. Next time, if there ever was a next time after this was over, he would request a pay rise or perhaps a prize of some sort. He remembered the stake of paperwork he had abandoned on his desk and groaned. John looked over in concern but Sherlock dragged him back into their argument. Greg had gotten to the end of his very long rope. "Now see this?" he cried, gesturing to the rather sheepish looking pair in the back. "This right here is why I'm never having kids!"