Chapter Thirteen

"You're sure you don't want to come in for tea, or perhaps a pint?" Lestrade asked that night when he and Donovan pulled up at his flat. "It's the least I can do."

Donovan shook her head lightly. "Nah, I've got Anderson waiting on me at home."

Lestrade blinked. "I really didn't need to know that, Donovan. What you do when off-duty is none of my business." he said wryly and dismounted the police vehicle. "Thanks for giving me a lift."

"Don't be like that." Donovan said, "It's the least I can do for a stubborn mate who won't willingly ask for help even if he needed it." She smiled cheekily.

Lestrade rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, get on home, Donovan! Drive safe." Donovan waved from the driver's seat and pulled off the curb.

Lestrade turned toward his flat with a vague feeling of deja vu. His front door never intimidated him as much as it did now. He pushed his key into the lock and, holding his breath, turned it.

It gave away with a smooth click.

Lestrade let out a tremendous sigh of relief and entered the flat. "Lestrade! You're here, finally!" Lestrade jumped, letting out a surprised yelp.

He flicked the light on, eyes falling onto the figure curled up on his living room sofa, and had the rare urge to cry. "Sherlock, bloody, Holmes." Lestrade tossed his keys onto a table situated by the door and entered the living room. "I hope you have a good reason for showing up here." he grumbled. "Or I will be very annoyed."

Sherlock watched him, interest slightly piqued. "Never had that surprised reaction from you when I showed up in your flat all the times before." he mused.

"You haven't done it in a while." Lestrade defended himself.

Sherlock sniffed. "Did you get new air freshner?"

Lestrade mimicked his action and smelled a tinge of lavender. Mycroft's men and their bloody efficiency! "Er, yeah." He blushed a little.

"Lestrade!" The DI in question swiveled around to see John strolling out of his kitchen with a mug of tea. "Sorry for all this, Sherlock insisted we stop by. He wouldn't let me call ahead to warn you about it. You don't mind me making myself a cup of tea, do you?"

Lestrade waved at him dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about it. Make yourself at home." He turned back to Sherlock. "I thought you were on a case in Geneva."

Sherlock scowled back. "Yes, Mycroft's handiwork. Wrapped up the case there, lost Mycroft's men, and came back." He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing.

Lestrade nodded grimly. "I'm calling your brother."

Sherlock scoffed at him while he fished his mobile from his pocket. "It's Mycroft, don't you think he'd already know we're back by now?"

"Yeah, probably." Lestrade nodded as he rang Mycroft up. "Still, wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"Hello?" Mycroft's oily voice eminated from the speaker.

"Mycroft." Lestrade greeted. "Just thought to tell you, Sherlock and John are back in London... and they've broken into my flat."

There was a brief silence on the other end. "I know." Mycroft replied a little sheepishly.

Lestrade sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. "You're right outside, arn't you?" He nodded to John who opened the door and let the elder Holmes in. They both put their phones away.

"Hello, Sherlock." Mycroft greeted icily. "Dr. Watson, welcome back." Sherlock ignored him and John responded with a meek 'hello'.

"You all settle whatever you need to settle, I'm going to make some coffee." Lestrade sighed, trudging tiredly into the safety of his kitchen.

"Sherlock." Mycroft voiced reprimandingly.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock shot back, mimicking him mockingly.

"Boys, please?" John groaned, Mycroft and Sherlock both shot looks of annoyance at him. "Riiight, I take it you two have never been introduced to a wonderful little thing called 'time out'."

"Way out, please." Lestrade chimed in, returning to the living room with a mug of coffee and a cup of tea with a slice of lemon for Mycroft. Just the way Mycroft liked his tea. Sherlock raised his eyebrow. Interesting...

"Ah, yes, Detective Inspector." Mycroft smiled gratefully at him, taking the offered cup. "I must have a few private words with you that these children must not hear."

Lestrade furrowed his eyebrow in bewilderment, but nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Right, okay." They disappeared through the door but kept it open just a crack to keep an eye on the two in the living room.

From his point of view, John could vaguely make out Mycroft and Lestrade shuffling awkwardly in the kitchen, voices lowered. "What do you think they're talking about?" he asked Sherlock.

"Probably the case." Sherlock shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Since when have Mycroft and Lestrade worked together on cases? I thought that was your thing." John asked, confused.

"Don't be ridiculous, John, it's a simple matter of thinking about the chronicle order of events." John quirked his eyebrows at him curiously. "Lestrade works with me and has only met Mycroft recently on the case that very nearly took his life."

"Okay..." John nodded slowly. "Following you so far."

"And well..." Sherlock grimaced. "There's really no way of wording this nicely; Mycroft fancies Lestrade."

John's eyes widened comically. "No!"

Sherlock snickered back. "Oh, yes. It's quite pathetic, really. I don't think Lestrade even knows it yet."

"Anyway, back to the chronicle order of events?" John steered Sherlock back to the main topic.

"Yes, Lestrade and Mycroft got along quite civily while the case was in police hands, then Lestrade saves Mycroft and the case is transferred to Homeland Security. It's not at all strange to assume that Mycroft either began avoiding Lestrade for this reason, or made his advances more noticable." Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "Judging by the fact that Mycroft trusts Lestrade enough to involve him in the continuation of the investigation and the fact that Lestrade seems accustomed to making Mycroft tea in just the way he likes it, we can assume that they've been in contact many times while we were in Geneva."

"Who would've thought...?" John chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "Lestrade and Mycroft."

"But, I think it's safe to say that Lestrade is still oblivious to Mycroft's interest in him." Sherlock added. "Besides, it's a lost cause, the two of them."

"Why do you think that?" John asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Sherlock turned to make sure the two in the kitchen were well out of earshot.

"Mycroft lives by the rule 'never attach oneself to anything one cannot walk out of in five seconds flat'. In accordance to that, Lestrade isn't the type to stem a relationship with a person he doesn't fully trust. Seeing as Mycroft won't let himself act on his fancy, he will never show more than a polite civility toward Lestrade. Lestrade, in turn, simply cannot trust a manner of man like Mycroft." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Besides, both men are the type to put their work before everything else, I can't see how it could ever work out."

He looked over to see John smirking at him. "Careful, Sherlock, you almost sound worried." he teased.

Sherlock scowled. "Of course, I won't forgive Mycroft if he hurts Lestrade." he responded sarcastically. "I refuse to wear in another DI." John just smiled at him indulgently.

"You two gossiping?" Lestrade called out, poking his head out of the kitchen door.

Sherlock replied 'yes' just as John responded 'no'. Mycroft emmerged from the kitchen after Lestrade and tutted at the two. "As much as I value Sherlock's honesty and Dr. Watson's manners, you two really need to get your stories straight." He nodded to Lestrade and whacked Sherlock lightly with his umbrella. "Come along, Sherlock, I think it's time for you to get back to Baker Street."

Sherlock rubbed the spot where he was hit and glared up at Mycroft. "So I take it it's safe to be back? Have you caught your man?"

Lestrade and Mycroft exchanged a look. "Not exactly, but there's no impending threat anymore." Mycroft replied. Sherlock finally peeled himself off Lestrade's sofa and stauntered toward the front door with Mycroft following on his heels.

"So, what were you two talking about?" John asked as Lestrade handed him his coat.

Lestrade raised his hands in defeat. "Whatever Sherlock told you we were talking about, I'm sure." and answered vaguely and shooed all three of his unexpected guests out of his flat, locking the door securely after them.

Only then did he let out a sigh of relief.