"Shit, shit shit SHIT!" Lestrade growled as he thwacked his mobile onto the desk, ruminating on how he was going to clean this bloody mess up when Sherlock would not even let him get a word in edge ways. He had tried his best to put across the seriousness of the situation, but he kept fumbling his words. He and sally were still shocked and tongue tied after deciding to watch the first tape. The Television screen was poised in the corner of the room innocently, paused on a moment that Lestrade had never thought he would ever see: Flying pigs and him winning the lottery had seemed like larger odds then ever seeing Holmes… well. He had stopped the recording at a moment when it was getting too weird for even sally to digest, the extreme invasion of privacy pooling nervousness low in their stomachs.

"Well? What did he say? Is the freak and his… person coming?"

"Sally for Christ sakes they do have names you know! And yes, they're on their way, although they have no idea what's waiting for them. Well, unless I 'spose Sherlock's deduced it somehow or another, he guessed it was Moriarty almost straight away, the genius git."

The tableau that would greet anyone walking in was a grim one, although they would be used to that at the yard. The DI was sat in his chair, elbows across the cheap desk that served as the commanding post for his team. His head, graced with moonlit hair, was resting in his hand, the spikes glittering dully in the sombre light given out by the single bulb swaying mournfully from the stained ceiling tiles. Natural light was hard to come by, the blinds pulled shut as much as possible given that they were broken in several places, allowing sneaking tendrils to burn spotlights haphazardly around the room. Sally was sat opposite Lestrade, her chaired turned slightly in order to see the screen. She had slight marks between her eyes atop the bridge of her nose, where her bony fingers had massaged out her stress whilst also providing cover for her eyes if she needed it. Her other arm was snaked around her waist, hugging herself slightly for comfort and to stop herself from fidgeting due to the sexual tension that had permeated the room from the screen.

Both times, before Lestrade had called, and before they had decided to watch the first tape, they had sat in awkward silence: the first time preceding Greg getting up and pushing the disc in the rest of the way and snatching the remote off of the side, Sally and he having an internal argument with each other through their eyes about who would be brave enough to get up and do it. The second time was due mostly to shock, and not a small hint of regret at the dirty feeling they had once they had finished watching.

"Sir… I don't know if I can stay and watch this. I mean, we haven't even seen anything yet, and it's already making me a bit… I just… it's a bit demeaning you know? Who knew the frea- Sherlock, had feelings like that?"

"I'm sorry, I really am sally but I need you here. 1: you've already watched and I can't let you out of this room without signing some crappy paperwork: I'm not saying you would, but this could be all-round the office like a bad smell if I'm not careful, you get me? 2: you're my second witness, I should legally have a third in here but… this needs to stay hush-hush with as few people as possible for now. God, I'm gonna have to go through all these at least twice. And 3: my most important bloody one, I am not sitting in this room by myself with Sherlock and John watching this, no sodding way. Not after Sherlock has tried his best to become the 'Highly-functioning sociopath'" As sally listened, her sullen expression decreased until her face screwed up in slight horror.

"Fuck, boss that's all the reason you do need. Urgh. It's gonna be bad enough with the two of us here."

"What's going to be bad enough with the two of you? The amount of dead brain cells in the room?"

Donovan and Greg whipped their heads around to stare at the doorway, where Sherlock had just barged through with no warning, John on his tail looking slightly worse for wear. Sally would refuse to the end of her days the squeak that came out of her mouth at seeing them, and Lestrade would reject the idea that his face looked like it had been smacked by a wooden fence post."Lestrade! Where's the evidence? Chop-chop, you did call us here didn't you? You interrupted a very pleasant morning and I am in no mood to deal with your incompetence at this time. Moriarty is back, and I am hoping you register the seriousness of the matter." John blushed slightly and looked away before the other two could notice his reaction, but turned back as he registered the atmosphere in the room between the sergeant and the DI. That, and the choking noise Donovan made and the hysteric giggle that followed after.

"Sally? Is there something wrong or…?" John had become… if not friends with her but at least friendly acquaintances that shared good mornings and how do you dos. It had become a game between them for Sally to come up with hobbies that John could take up instead of going with Sherlock all the time, and after the first few times John accepted it for the banter that it had slowly developed into and that was that. Except that John was bemused right now, he had no idea what he was doing here apart from something to do with Moriarty, had no clue as to why Lestrade could not meet his eyes when he had pleadingly looked to his mate for answers, and was completely lost as to why Sally had suddenly developed into hysterics due to his expression. He looked over at his (secret) lover and found that he was scowling, that face he got when he did not understand something. He glanced over at John and raised an eyebrow at him, eliciting a shrug and a slight out stretch of the hands. Sherlock returned his eyes back to the pair and sneered.

"Oh so glad we amuse you Donovan, Anderson not available at the moment? His wife's home, though I suppose you would know after that close call last week." John and Lestrade sighed the same weary breath as the two began arguing back and forth, and John had to force down the smile that arose when his Sherlock got petty, a defence mechanism obtained when he felt like he was being made fun of.

He always reminded John of a sulky, hissing cat.

It was Sherlock and Donovan's own game anyway, to see who could insult the other the most. He tuned in as he registered with alarm the line that Sherlock's' mouth became as his face shuttered down all emotions.

"… Ha, well if you're so up on your high horse, freak, why don't you wait and see the 'evidence' Moriarty has blessed us with? You think you're such a genius, you're just a hypocritical arsehole, I don't know how john puts up with you, the sex must be amazing. Either that or he gets off on being masochistic." Sherlock's eyes widened and his nostrils flared slightly as he took a slight step back, coincidently so he was closer to John. John glared between Sally and Greg furiously. There was something not right going on here, Sally now looked sickened by what she said and John could see that she hadn't meant to come across so… harshly. This was more than the petty insults the two fired at each other normally, and he was getting sick of this waiting around. Lestrade tried to step in.

"Sally, that's going too far. Especially with recent events being as they are-"

" OK stop right there. I have had it with this situation, and you're bloody mumblings. Sally, that was uncalled for, apologise to Sherlock now."

"What? Why should I-"

John Glared.

"…Sorry." Sally mumbled.

Sherlock looked away from John to give a smug grin to her, and then redirected his eyes back to his partner. His eyes roamed over his body, noted the straight back posture and the no nonsense wide line of his shoulders. He left the best to last, John's face, his army face. The one that Sherlock loved to see and made him proud, whilst simultaneously making him a bit hot under the collar. His John may be small, but damn he could take charge of a room, he filled it and even Lestrade seemed to bow under that control. Not that his lover used it much. He would have to persuade him to use it more often, they hadn't really done that much role-play in the bedroom yet…

Sally stared at Sherlock and gave a confused look. She noticed that Sherlock, the freak, was blushing and…undressing John with his eyes. He was spacing out, and Sally wouldn't be surprised if he had started drooling right there and then. His eyes were gleaming like he was planning something, and she really didn't want to know. She would probably find out soon enough anyway, she thought, her expression sour. How the fuck had any of them not noticed during eight months? they were detectives for christ sake!

"Right. Greg. I'm gonna give you one minute to explain, in a concise and fairly quick manner, what the hell is going on here. Then, we are going to discuss the matter like the adults that we are. Got that? All three of you? Yes, Sherlock, I'm bloody including you too. Right. Begin."

And with that, Captain John Watson crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a hard expression on his face that said he had the patience of a soldier and of a doctor, which added to form that of a saint.