Disclaimer: For the last time. I do not and will not under any circumstances own Sherlock, Moffat, the Cucumber, Gatiss, Martin or anyone else working on the set or realting to Sherlock.
Author's last notes: This is my last chapter and I am trying to find a way around posting it, because I am not yet ready to depart from this story. I had so much fun writing it and hope you had as much fun, if that is even possible.
By the time you will be reading this, I will be sad, but also a tad bit relieved. It'ts not just sweetie-pie to write a story, especially if you can't seem to find the time and there are tests going on as well.
Anyway, won't annoy you any further, I just hope that you enjoyed this little story. Thank you for all your support and kind words, I couldn't have written this without them. Again, thank you very much and enjoy!
"Are you being serious?" Greg asked, "It would be a hell of a good joke if you weren't, as no one could ever fall in love with the Sherlock Holmes...could they?"
"Yes, they could and they have." John answered, irritated.
"Oh, ahem, really? But you've got a point: he is a hottie, he is. Ain't nothing wrong with these cheekbones, I say."
"I'd say so too, but Mycroft? Really? Do his suits turn you on? Or do you just like the fat wobbling underneath them?"
"I may do. " Greg chuckled "I've just fallen in love with an idiot."
"The same for me, thanks."
"So what are we going to do?" Mycroft asked, trying to solve this problem like one of his brother's cases.
"We?"
"Yes, we. We're pretty much in the same, excuse me, fucked up situation."
"One isn't gay and the other taken, what chances do you think we have?" Sherlock questioned.
"Honestly? Not much. But something has to be done."
"Well, you may do something, but me? I have spoilt everything already."Sherlock sighed.
"No, I think there is still something... something I can't explain. Every time that the good doctor looks at you there's this passion, this want trapped inside his mind willing to escape."
"These are no facts, brother. Nothing to go on, it's just your poor deductions."
"Whose deductions do you call poor? Have you seen yourself?"
So, that's the plan. Lestrade would phone Sherlock to distract from John, who would be breaking and entering to get into the manor. If he simply rang the doorbell, he would never see the insides of the manor. Stubborn as Sherlock was, there was no other way. The detective would never let him in. He had to get around the gates.
In return John would help Greg to connect with Mycroft via Sherlock, if they ever talked again. If that wasn't the case they would find another way, eventually. Even if it was just Lestrade holding up a poster to one of Mycroft's cameras.
There goes nothing!
"Almost there." John whispered into his phone, trying to evoke as little attention as possible.
"Alright. Tell me when you are."
"Will only be a minute...There I am, could you-?"
"Yeah, cheers mate!" Greg said, turning off his phone.
Let's get down to business.
The mobile phone rang. Once again.
"Could you get that for me?" Sherlock sighed.
"This one time." Mycroft replied, not gracing the screen with one look.
"Mycroft Holmes, Holmes' manor. What could you possibly want from us at this late hour?" he spat into the phone.
"Oh, uhmm... it's me Lestrade, uh, sorry for interrupting you."
"Oh my- Lestrade, excuse me- I am-"
"No, no, it's alright, don't you worry. Everything is fine."
"If you say so." Mycroft gulped. "How are things, ahem, going with your boyfriend? " Oh god, hopefully he didn't sound too much like a creep.
"Oh, not so very good. We split up." Greg said, trying not to sound as happy as he actually was.
"I'm sorry for you..." Mycroft said, doing exactly the same as the man one line above.
"Were did you, uh even know I had one?"
"Uhm, Sherlock told me a little bit about you." Lie. Mycroft didn't have his cameras for nothing.
"He did? That's very unlike the Sherlock I know."
"Uh, hehe, yeah." Mycroft forcefully laughed "He sometimes is not quite like himself."
"Could you two love-birds please take the conversation onto another level? Literally. I don't need a love-sick Mycroft, not really" Sherlock almost bellowed so Lestrade could hear each syllable.
A second later he shoved the suited, red-faced man out of the door. That's what you call Sherlock-matchmaking.
Mission accomplished.
He rubbed his hands merrily and followed his intuition to the window, taking out a cigarette to calm his poor nerves.
"Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes!" God, was the man deaf? John screamed his lunges out and what did his fellow genius? Stand there and light a cigar, which he should under no circumstances do! Ever!
"Sherlock Holmes, let your hair down!"
"Seriously John?" Sherlock asked, looking down at John who was standing in his mother's favourite roses. They deserved to be smashed. "What are you doing here anyway, breaking into my house?"
"I'm here to tell you something!"
"Oh, not that one again, you had your share of fun, get done with it."
"No, this is important. I wouldn't travel such a large distance for nothing, would I?"
"You're stupid, you would."
"Ugh, Sherlock, you're destroying my moment."John huffed. "As I said, I have to tell you something, something important. I meant it, all of it."
"I love you." He said earnestly.
"No kidding this time?" Sherlock asked quietly.
"There never was."
"So, uhhm- would you like to-?" Mycroft stammered awkwardly.
"Would I like to what?" Lestrade asked somewhat confusedly.
"To go out on a date-with me, I mean!?"
"With you?"
"Yes? Is that alright?"
" Yes, yes of course! For the world yes!"
"Yes?" Mycroft stuttered again, he couldn't quite wrap his head around it.
"Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, you big dumbo!"
They couldn't believe it.
If your eyes were good you would be able to see a huge accumulation of extremities huddled together in one big ball on top of a bunch of roses.
If your eyes were even better you would see Sherlock and John, kissing in the gentle moonlight with no care in the world. This was their little place of happiness and they were going to make as much as possible out of it. You could see.
"My boyfriend- broke into my -house to confess- his love, you- crazy!" Sherlock said between kisses, smiling a smile that was only meant for John to see.
"Learned from the best."