Disclaimer: You know all of this stuff already: I don't own Sherlock or anything realting to it, yadda, yadda, yadda.
"Very funny John. I'm almost falling out of my seat."
"No, it wasn't meant as-"
"Yes ha-ha ,John. I get it."
"No, no, no! I really do love you!" John exclaimed.
"Oh, you're just saying this to make me look stupid. You with your friends, eh? Having a laugh? I've had enough, thanks very much. See you soon darling. Lots of love." Said Sherlock, evidently pissed off and turning off his phone. How could he have ever trusted that man?
Well, back to reality.
Seemed like the man in front of him had lost his wig again. We'll see when he notices. Not as if anyone would ever tell him, though. Too much fun.
Bugger, bugger, bugger!
Nothing ever went as planned, did it now? But whereas there had never been a real plan this didn't count, did it? God, he needed to get his head sorted.
He could... yeah actually he could...
At least the idea sounded good, it was worth giving it a try. And it was his one and only chance to set everything right.
There he was. Finally.
No train, no people, no sound, no hurry. Just silence. Simple. Sweet. Nothing like John.
Or was it? Normally it was. But not now: John was smoke. The smoke that came out of his mouth. Nothing more than ash. Dust. Dirt.
He lay down on the sofa nearest to him, cursing every human being that had ever seen the sunlight. If anyone of these morons came here now, he would slice-
*Ding-Dong*
He ripped open his eyes and just threw his cigarette onto the ground, stomping on it for better effect. The cleaner would have their share of fun.
A wave of anger roamed through him which he tried to dismiss, but failed at.
"Coming!" he yelled, trying to set his face to the most neutral expression he could encounter.
As he was running down the stairs, he wondered whether it could maybe be John who was at the door. What if it was John? What would he do? What would he say?
"Joh-?" Sherlock said, while opening the door roughly.
"Hello, brother dear."
I love you, you are so beautiful. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life. I meant it; I love you, really and truly. Wherever you are, I want to be? Oh god this sounded like a marriage proposal. Was this good? Or too romantic? You never knew with Sherlock Holmes.
Maybe "my room or yours?" would suffice, but as there were only Sherlock's or Holmes' rooms in the manor, that wouldn't do.
What should he do? What could he do? Maybe he could phone Lestrade, he had to know something, had to. There was no alternative, nothing he could really do else in a train.
"Lestrade?"
"I'm not there..." said man said quietly.
"Greg, what's up something wrong?"
"He, he left me. Robin... he did."
"My god Myc, how long do you want this to carry on? I understood. Sentiment is a defect found on the losing side. I have known before. It's just that I can't help it, okay? I love that idiot and-"
"But what can you do? There is nothing that will change his mind. I tell you, forget him, he's an idiot."
"Just like Lestrade then?" Sherlock said and paused curtly, looking at his brothers bewildered expression. "Oh, don't tell me you haven't given up on him. "
"Let him stay out of this, he's none of your concern." Mycroft said, trying to avoid the subject.
"No, I shan't. You see, we're both in the same boat. You love Craig, I love John and there's nothing we can do about it except wait. And wait. And wait. And-"
"He's called Greg."
"-wait. At least yours is gay. You have a chance, even if it is minimal."
"What do you mean by minimal?"
A smile crept on Sherlock's features. "Oh nothing, he just has a boyfriend, as you know." And the cake that is currently in your belly. You should really think about a diet. And carry it through this time.
"What. Why?"
"Because when we did it, well you know, I moaned somebody else's name and he noticed."
"Was it the first time?"
"Well, that's the point. It wasn't. He had caught me a few times before, but I was always able to save the situation. Not this time, though."
"I'm sorry for you man."
"No, it's alright. I can cope. It's just that I won't ever be able to reach him; the man of my dreams will literally stay in my dreams. It's got nothing to do with Robin. "
"Him? Whose name was it then?"
"Do you know Sherlock's older brother?"
"Heavens, yes. Why?"
"That's him."
A silence filled the lines as John tried decide whether he should laugh or cry. He tried to stay neutral.
"Man, we're both in the same boat." he broke the silence.
"Why do you say that? You haven't got anything for Mycroft too, have you?"
"Lord no, it's just that I may- no, I do have feelings- for the other side of the Holmes brothers."
Now it was Lestrade's turn to decide. And he laughed.
Author's note: Hooray! I'm back from the dead. Here goes another chapter, which I hope you all will enjoy very much. My holiday was better than the best, but I couldn't write a single word and that was horrible. I'm sorry for your long wait, I meant no bad.
My presence on will be just the same as before, so don't worry. Maybe I'll be able to publish the next chapter tomorrow, but I have to get back into every-day life and that will take up a little bit of my time. Sorry!
Thank you for all your support and care, you all are brilliant and beautiful human beings.
Lots of love -creamtea-with-a-madman