Some Mystrade in this chapter

Safe

It had been several months since the Soldier and the Detective had started their relationship and by this time, practically every one of the Yard knew of it. Frankly, they rejoiced over it, with Sherlock in a steady-ish relationship with John he was almost tolerable, and that was better than he had ever been. He still was ridiculously arrogant and brash but he handled himself with care. Almost seeming to turn to John and ask, "Was that good?" whenever he spoke to anyone. Every time John would nod and smile lightly and Sherlock would literally glow with happiness, this evident in his progression of imagination of his insults with Anderson.

There was, however, a much deeper and darker side to Sherlock that no one, especially not John had ever seen. D.I. Greg Lestrade is the only exception.

It was only supposed to be a simple case of a stupid drug lord killing off one of his own for a better profit, but this time, the stupid man had taken John.

Lestrade had been debriefing Sherlock on the drug lord in question. The D.I. remembered the look of pure unadulterated anger and horror on Sherlock's face when his brother called to tell him that John had been swept off the streets in a beat up, stolen, white van. He remembered how the Detective had crushed his phone in his bare hands and threw it against the wall. Everyone in the room had gone totally silent and still, staring at the consulting detective. He only said three words.

"They have John."

He was gone, off to where, Lestrade could not guess. But he could not nor would he ever forget the look on Sherlock's face. Pain and fear, fear that he had never seen before. Primal and dark it was only there for a moment before it was replaced with rage.

Lestrade had set his own team into motion, trying to find John, but there was only so much they could do in one day. It was late into the night before Sally finally ordered him to go home.

With a heavy and world weary sigh he unlocked the door to the home he shared with his lover and soon to be husband Mycroft. He threw his coat onto the chair and keys onto the table. He loosened his tie and walked into their shared room.

Mycroft was sitting up in bed, his computer the only source of light. He looked up and smiled, it was small and brief, but it was enough. Lestrade removed his tie shirt and pants until he was only in his boxers. He slid under the covers and kissed his lover.

"Hello Gregory, how did Sherlock take it?" Mycroft asked quietly as he turned off his computer and placed it on the nightstand.

Greg shook his head, "Not well, he threw his phone into the wall," Mycroft nodded and wrapped his arm around his husband to be and slid further under the covers. Lestrade in turn buried himself into Mycroft's neck. "I'm worried about them," he whispered.

Mycroft sighed, "As am I, it would not be good for either of them if John were seriously injured."

Greg shook his head, "No Mycroft, it would destroy him. And if- If John were too….. die," he sat up, "God that would kill him!"

Mycroft nodded and sat up as well, "It would, I don't believe one can live without the other anymore. They have become essential parts of each other's lives and if John were to die. My brother would never recover from the devastation he would receive," his voice was strange, distant. Greg studied his lover, "It almost sounds like you're speaking from experience," he said carefully.

Mycroft paused and turned slightly, It was too dark in the room to be able to see Mycroft's face from that angle. "That time… when he took you. He hurt you. For a while I thought I would lose you. That you would leave me forever. I-," he turned further away, and Greg waited patiently ,"I almost couldn't even handle the idea that I would never get to see you again," Mycroft shuddered and Lestrade wrapped his arm around his lover, "Hey. Hey, come on. I was fine remember," he kissed his husband to be, "You saved me. You always do and always will. I love you," he whispered, their noses touching.

Mycroft gripped Greg's shoulders and pulled him close, almost as if reassurance that he was still here, "I still have dreams. That I didn't reach you in time or that I never found you at all," he whispered.

Greg said nothing but simply kissed him lightly.

"Thank you," The elder Holmes whispered and they pulled closer to each other. Both comfortable in the knowledge the other would always be there.

?

The next day Sherlock stormed into Greg's office and slammed a piece of paper with an address down and promptly stormed out.

The address was for a warehouse just outside of town and Greg quickly assembled a team. When they got there, they burst in and were shocked to see a man lying bloody and broken in the middle of the floor.

As Lestrade got closer he saw that it was the drug lord. When the despicable man noticed them he cried out, "I did it I murdered that bloke and kidnapped that soldier man! It was me! Please don't let him near me again! Please," he cried hysterically.

"I'll take that as a confession," Lestrade mumbled and booked the man. Just as the man was getting into his car, his phone buzzed.

You were too slow and took the liberty of interrogating the man myself. He may have slipped and fallen while questioning. John is at the hospital, he's alright and going to be fine- SH

Lestrade smiled fondly and deleted the message. He drove to the Yard where he dropped of the man to be left in a cell until his trial. He then drove to the hospital.

When he arrived he was met by his lover who was waiting for him by the door. "He was only beaten a little, suffering a few broken ribs and cuts, they are both inside." The two went in and quickly found John's room. They both stopped by the door and looked in.

John was sitting up on the bed with a tiered but sincere smile on his face, while Sherlock talked animatedly, visibly brighter than the day before.

"How did he find John," Lestrade asked.

Mycroft shrugged, "I didn't bother to ask." He locked their hands with a small smile, which was returned.

"I'm glad their safe."

They both smiled wider when John broke into a fit of laughter shared by the detective.

Any criminal would think twice about taking Sherlock Holmes's soldier from him.

Anyone except for Jim Moriarty.

Next chapter! Finny!