It took a few days to understand it. It being Sherlock being back, that Sherlock liked him, that Sherlock was alive. He'd tried to explain how he survived, but John would cut him off. Part of him died that day; he never wanted to relive it. Sherlock didn't quite understand it all the way. John got it. Sherlock wanted someone to share his brilliance with; Mycroft didn't care about how clever his plan had been.
"Still, you need a job," John said, during breakfast. Sherlock had a cup of tea in front of him, but wasn't drinking it. He was trying to be a bit more normal. John just liked that he was sitting at the table with him, without heads or thumbs in the way.
"You should talk to Lestrade."
"Me? You're a big boy, now, Sherlock. You have to face the consequences of your actions and say you're sorry to him."
"But that's so tedious. I've already figured out several of his cases recently."
"Do I even want to know how?"
"Mycroft."
"Right, the government. The all-powerful and all-knowing. Speaking of, can we get those cameras off of our apartment?"
Apparently, the thought of his brother not looking over his shoulder hadn't crossed Sherlock's mind. He gave a little shrug of his shoulders and pulled out his phone. A few taps later and Sherlock set it down.
They returned to a comfortable silence. That was the sign of true friendship, John believed. If you had to fill the air with words, you weren't good enough friends. Silence was truly golden.
A knock on the door interrupted the silence. John went to get it. The door opened to reveal Mycroft. He walked in, umbrella in hand.
"The cameras stay on."
"Only if you get Sherlock back his job."
"How?"
"Aren't you all friendly with Greg?" John and Greg went to the pub as often as they could. Greg was perhaps the only thing that kept John alive. When Sherlock was alive (he never died, John reminded himself), Greg would talk about Mycroft's 'stalking' of him. Greg had said one night, after maybe one to many, how he just wanted a good shag with Mycroft. John was very surprised. Greg, after all, had been married to a woman.
"I get attracted to people, John, not a specific sex," Greg had said a few days later. John got that; he never really considered a guy before Sherlock. It seemed to John that the Holmes brothers didn't know their feelings.
"Doctor Watson, what do you mean?"
"I mean you talk to him quite a lot. I'm sure you can work out some sort of deal."
"Mycroft and Lestrade talk to each other?" Sherlock asked, surprised.
"Course they do. Didn't you wonder how he showed up at Dartmoor?"
Sherlock just gave John a look of disapproval.
"Fine, I will phone him." Mycroft pulled out his phone and pressed one button. So Greg's on speed dial, John thought
"Greg, we need to talk... Yes... No... When do you get off work? ...seven? ... I'll send the car around... Good bye."
John felt his phone vibrate. It was a text from Greg.
Date with M! Holy shit! -GL