John's dilemma was clear to see and Greg knew he was the one pushing him to deal with the issue, but it was no use fleeing and Greg couldn't wait, pretending everything was fine with that Damocles sword hanging over his head. It's not that he wanted John to choose him over Sherlock, because that would never work, but they had to work out the tension between them before it exploded in all their faces.
So, with a firm hand at the small of his back and whispering reassuring words in his ear, Greg led John back to his armchair and pushed him into his seat, facing Sherlock. Of course, that meant he had to fetch one of the kitchen chairs for himself and drag it back to sit between the two men. Ignoring how awkward this was turning out to be, Greg cleared his throat.
"We need to talk."
Neither John nor Sherlock looked like they wanted to, each one blanketed in their own sullen silence. Greg felt very much like a referee at a game where both teams were reluctant to play, neither willing to call the coin toss, let alone kickoff the ball, so it was up to him to get things moving. Again. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should just let Sherlock continue digging the grave to his friendship with John, but knew it would make John just as miserable in the end and that's the last thing Greg wanted to happen, because he'd seen miserable-John and it was heartbreaking.
Well… second to last thing he didn't want to see happen, but it looked like John's first instinct wasn't to dump him for Sherlock as he'd feared. Pretty, smart, younger, crazy Sherlock. Greg knew he could not compete against him, but it appeared John really liked him, good old dependable Greg. Maybe even loved him? Greg did, not that he'd told John. It was never the right time, and then he got kidnapped and Sherlock reappeared and he had to question everything again, not knowing where he stood between the inseparable pair. He wondered who was the most star-crossed lovers in this scenario: him and John, or John and Sherlock?
Which was exactly why they needed to talk and sort this mess out. Nobody wanted a Shakespearean ending, but that was where they were headed with these two knuckleheads.
"Alright," he warned when no one spoke up. "If that's the way you want to do it, but don't expect me to be anything but blunt. First of all, Sherlock, I'm really holding myself back not punching your teeth in for kissing John. That was not on, mate, and you bloody well know it."
Sherlock at least has the grace to blush. It was surprising, actually. In all the years he's known him, longer than John in fact, Greg has never seen him blush or display such a genuine emotion so openly. This was definitely John's doing. Of course, the colour rising to his cheeks suited him, the bloody wanker, but he didn't try to defend his actions and remained as mute as ever so Greg continued.
"John is mighty pissed about it too, mind you, but we all know that won't last. He's too forgiving with you. Hell, he couldn't even stay mad at you more than a day after you pretended being dead for years."
Greg spied both men trying their best to hide a smile while avoiding eye contact and he sighed. This just proved he was doing the right thing.
"But please, for all our sakes, just talk it out, so we can get past this."
Sherlock studied him with his cold assessing gaze, then John, and they both waited him out. The ball was in his court and he could either start playing or forfeit the game.
"You two really care about each other," he said and they exchanged a glance before nodding in unison.
Greg would never confess to the relief that washed through him at that moment.
"I thought… you'd wait for me," Sherlock added, not meeting their eyes now and seemingly very interested in the hem of his dressing gown.
"Wait for you?" John snorted. "I thought you were dead, Sherlock. What was there to wait for?"
"Well," Greg corrected for the sake of honesty. "You sort of were, though. You never dated, you hardly even went out, and this place was a bloody museum of Sherlock weirdness until not so long ago."
Sherlock's smug look resurfaced.
"It was the saddest thing I ever saw," he continued and both men winced. "John and me, it just happened. I don't think it's something either of us could have predicted, much less imagined… I just wanted to help him."
John reached over to squeeze his hand and he suddenly felt self-conscious about how he'd just poured his heart out.
"And now you love him," Sherlock concluded and Greg nodded.
"You do?" John asked, voice rising.
"Why do you sound so surprised?" Greg mock scolded.
"Well, we haven't… dated that long and, you know, haven't even, you know… and I'm just me. I'm not much. I just don't understand."
Greg chuckled because he truly looked puzzled by the idea, the idiot.
"I almost lost you. I would have done anything to get you back. It sort of puts your feelings in perspective."
Greg stopped as he realized something.
"Oh! That's what happened with you too, isn't it?" he asked Sherlock. "When you were up on the roof? That's why you did it, that's why you played dead! You love him too. You really do."
Sherlock squirmed in his armchair, eyes still averted.
"I always said you were the less idiotic of the detectives of Scotland yard."
Greg hummed. That was almost a compliment. But now he at least knew Sherlock wasn't faking it just to get his blogger back. His feelings were genuine and unwavering if he'd been hanging onto them for the past two years. So… He glanced at John who looked like he might need a shock blanket. Greg would have offered him something strong to drink if he hadn't abused of the stuff in the past. All he could offer at the moment was to squeeze his hand in understanding. He'd be rooting for those two if he wasn't stuck in the middle. He didn't want to imagine what was going on in John's mind.
"The classic love triangle," Sherlock commented mildly. "You realize these usually end up in murder, of course."
Somehow that made them laugh. They really were a dysfunctional bunch.
"I don't know what to do," John finally confessed. "I really don't think I deserve either of you. It's still early, but yeah, I do think I love you Greg, but…" he gazed at Sherlock. "I've always loved Sherlock, even when he's being a complete tosser. Maybe not in the same way… God, I feel selfish just for thinking it. It's not… normal, I know…"
"Normal," Sherlock scoffed. "I thought you of all people were above that, John. There is a simple solution to this little conundrum that doesn't involve me commiting the perfect murder however."
Greg scowled. Had Sherlock just threatened to get rid of him?
"What are you saying, Sherlock?" he asked because the only way he could think of to solve a love triangle without getting rid of one of the parties meant sharing. Surely he wasn't implying that? It was… not normal, but that was exactly how Sherlock thrived. Not normal, not boring. It might actually be the perfect sort of relationship for someone like him. "Are you suggesting we… time-share John?"
John made a strangled sound from his seat and Greg glanced at him to make sure he was okay, but apart from turning beet red and wide-eyed… then John opened his mouth but no sound came out and Sherlock spoke up instead.
"Of course not. I'm suggesting John is man enough to take the both of us on at the same time."
This time, Greg felt a blush creeping up his face. He knew Sherlock enough to know he didn't mean it the way it sounded, but still…
"Phrasing, Sherlock," he grunted.
"You know what I mean," Sherlock replied with his smarmy voice that always made his fist itch with expectation.
He wasn't sure how to feel about such a proposition. On the one hand, it would suit both Sherlock and John as the first wouldn't be left out while the latter wouldn't have to choose, but on the other, Greg had experienced "sharing" of a sort with his cheating wife and he hadn't liked it one bit. Not that the situation was so similar, since his wife had actually been giving herself to anyone but him and there was no love involved by the end of it, but the concept still left a foul taste in his mouth. Could he deal with John and Sherlock flirting? Going on a date? Having sex? Did Sherlock even do any of those? Well, apparently he could kiss, so they weren't out of the question either…
Sherlock huffed. Apparently, they were too slow thinking about his solution, but had he honestly expected them to happily go along with his scheme? Although, John hadn't outright refused, and neither had he, so what did that say about them?
"I need to think about it," John said simply. "And we need to talk about it," he added, pulling him out of his chair by their linked hand as he got up. "I still want that dinner."
They were quiet as they walked to a Chinese just down the street. Greg thought it best to leave John to his thoughts for now, because he had to be just as befuddled as he was, if not more. Despite what he'd said, John was obviously not that hungry and was poking at his rice absent-mindedly with his chopsticks, a far away look in his eyes. He wished he could read his mind, or at least read him like Sherlock could. He had no idea if he was angry or disappointed, considering Sherlock's offer or just thinking of the best way to make him ingest a large dose of poison. So he reached across the table to still John's hand and his boyfriend finally looked him in the eye, giving him a wry smile.
"It's fucked up, right? Sherlock makes it sound like it isn't, but he's always been a bit…"
"Weird?"
John chuckled at the understatement.
"I don't know why I'm even considering it. For that matter, I don't understand why you're not storming off in a snit?"
"Err, maybe because I'm not one of your jealous girlfriends?"
John considered him for a moment.
"You're not jealous?"
"I always knew there would be Sherlock in your life, I just thought he'd be a little more dead," he answered with a shrug. "Now we have to deal with a live one. I know he'll be a part of your life,whatever you decide, so it's just a question of how invasive he's going to be."
John laughed outright this time and it made his heart skip a beat.
"You certainly know how to diffuse a situation. Put like that, it doesn't seem so overwhelming. But how do you feel about… what he said."
"About sharing you?" Greg replied bluntly. "Not thrilled to be honest. Not at first, anyway. I don't exactly have fond memories of my ex-wife going at it with other blokes. Not that you're my wife," he quickly corrected when John gave him a peculiar look. "Or that you'll be going at it with Sherlock. I mean, I thought he didn't do normal, human stuff like that?"
"He seemed to know what he was doing when he shoved his tongue down my throat, but I see what you mean… I can't imagine him dating, not like normal people would. His version of dating would probably involve finding a dead body and running across the rooftops under the moonlight."
"Sounds about right. So… what will you do?"
"We," John corrected. "I'm not taking a decision without you. We're already together and I have no intention of losing you over this. If it's making you uncomfortable, even just a bit, then it's not worth considering, but… Correct me if I'm wrong, you didn't object outright, so does that mean you are thinking about it? I don't understand what's in it for you.
"It's the easy way out? I want you to be happy and I don't want to lose you. His offer seems to be the only way to reconcile the two."
"And you said you weren't selfless," John said and bit his lip as if he'd bitten into a hot pepper.
"You okay?"
John nodded and looked right at him so Greg noticed his eyes were a lot darker than usual, and that he looked a bit flushed. He'd never heard of someone getting aroused by selflessness before, but he'd be happy to go along with it.
"How about we skip dessert?" he asked with a saucy smile.
They made it past the front door before they started kissing, the landing before they were groping one another and fighting against their layers of clothes, before they finally stumbled inside. Thankfully, Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, but they tip toed their way across the living room to the upstairs bedroom on the off chance he had gone to bed. Unlikely. Chances were he'd gone to the morgue to steal a corpse to experiment on, or was breaking into Scotland Yard in search of an interesting case… he didn't really care. He had John's tongue around his own and his hot skin beneath his fingers, and… a Sherlock in John's bed.
