"When did the package arrive?"
Sherlock was now sitting in Lestrades chair, feet up casually on the desk as he leaned his head back and pressed his fingertips to his mouth. He was only now just managing to brush off the tension in the room, finding it difficult to get into his mind palace straight away. Surprisingly, John was helping. Sherlock had watched him suspiciously at first, worried that now everything was in the open John was going to change. But he was relieved when all he did was give Sherlock a small smile, lean his back against the door and cross his arms loosely: classic case mode behaviour and posturing, not the slightest change at all apart from a slightly happier expression. After nodding back, Sherlock had closed his eyes, ready to visualise the data.
"Well, it got to my office at around... Uh..." Lestrade looked at his watch, noted it was now 10:05, and replied "I suppose just under an hour ago, d'ya reckon, Sally? Not sure when it came to the yard, Gregson had it apparently."
"Yes sir, sounds about right. I put it on your desk as soon as he hoisted it on to me- the lazy bastard-. That was at five to nine."
John decided to chip in at this moment, already getting into the drill as if he was questioning a suspect with Sherlock. On cases where that happened, John always thought of the two of them as a well-oiled machine, each with their specific roles.
Most of the time, his partner would just eye them and their surroundings up, deducing whilst also causing the suspects to feel on edge and flustered. John saw it as the bad cop good cop routine, but had refrained from ever saying that out loud again. He enjoyed not being glared at so hard his ears may catch on fire, and after making Sherlock watch those police action movies...well, John believed the term to be 'not impressed'. In fact the term may be 'John, this is utter rubbish, I can't believe how anyone could conduct a successful questioning with this amount of something that is meant to be called intelligence' and so on and so on, until John had a lump of sulking Sherlock on his hands. Not his best idea ever, he had to admit.
Anyway It was his job to seem the calm, friendly one, asking questions that on the surface seemed simple yet were extremely effective, sandwiching and toning down the big ones that Sherlock shot out of his mouth that lead to that all important final answer. On a few occasions they would have to flirt, yet they both did that when there wasn't any other option. John always felt guilty after for leading the witness on, and Sherlock just couldn't be bothered to put on a new face when he could get the answers in some other, non-social way.
There was even one case a couple months back where they had been undercover at a health resort, and had had to both flirt at the same time to a woman who had a predilection for threesomes in hot tubs. John cringed mentally as he remembered how awkward it had been, the two of them had only been together for three weeks at the time and they were standing around in skimpy trunks pretending to be interested in another woman, Sherlock still technically a virgin and John still grappling with his new sexual arousal at the male body (Well, the body of the frustrating man who lived with him, anyway). It was only Sherlock's quick thinking that had allowed them to pull out at the last minute: the suspect had unwittingly showed off a bit too much skin than John would have liked, but thankfully Sherlock noticed a small scar just above her admittedly large cleavage that had linked her to the crime in someway or another, something to do with a cult that lured men away in pairs to be sacrificed. John didn't remember the details.
He was too busy trying to not get an erection at the sight of his new boyfriend in sleek black speedos.
John tried to keep a straight face as his imagination lead him to unwillingly visualise them having to flirt with Lestrade whilst wearing all sorts of ridiculous costumes. Bloody hell, he could just see his face! Scolding himself, John pressed his lips together to try and keep the giggles in, only just managing by changing a choked laugh into a hum.
"Hmmm...Ah... Seen any disturbances or anything unusual around lately? When do you think he was able to get all the cameras in here?"
"John, Moriarty would not be so sloppy, no point questioning Lestrade. And stop thinking about the cult case, it's distracting. Now come here and have a look at this note... I want to see what you think of it."
Sherlock sighed and waved John over to him. The note... There was something, something he couldn't quite... He looked up as John snorted in a sardonic laugh after scanning over the small paragraph.
"Nice try Jim, but you won't break up this crime fighting duo anytime soon."
John grinned at him and it clicked into place.
"OH! John, brilliant again!"
"I- what really? What did I say?"
Sherlock again jumped up and started pacing, and John watched as he muttered to himself, getting lost in the changing expressions that moved fluidly like a technicolour waterfall, shimmering with excitement at the thrill of the game, a key piece of evidence being eroded away by the great tidal power that was Sherlock's brilliant mind.
Lestrade also watched, although with a growing sense of frustration as the genius bastard stayed silent. He couldn't find anything in the letter when he looked at it, and he had read it so many times it was almost memorised. How could Sherlock have got something just by reading it once? He was such a git, leaving them in suspense like this, but Greg couldn't help but feel some sort of... Fatherly pride at his consulting child-detective, so he stayed quiet and hoped that Sherlock's love of praise from John outweighed his love of the dramatic. Lestrade was extremely optimistic, especially after the little scene he had witnessed a couple of minutes ago. Christ, if only his wife was even a fraction as devoted to him as those two were to each other. His marriage would be frankly sunshine and rainbows, not left in the gutter where divorce papers were stained with the blood, sweat and tears he had put into keeping their relationship a float, smeared with all the shit she had put him through. At least they didn't have any kids, thank fuck, he would have hated to put them through the blazing arguments about the house. Only a certain government official who remained anonymous managed to convince the harpy to retract her claws from his whole life savings.
Shit, he was getting off topic. He sighed and rubbed his eyes hard enough to create little blue spirals, destroying the images laid out on his eyelids. Back to the case. Back to the tapes... Oh fuck, there were another couple of images he was going to have burnt onto his retinas soon. Best get it over with; he did not want to dwell on his best friends sex life thanks very much, although he really couldn't help the curiosity.
Sherlock, having sex.
With John.
Sherlock.
How did they get from point A to B? Was it awkward? Did Sherlock just drop trousers and deduce John into a fit of passion? He just couldn't get his head round it. Did John order him about? Lestrade didn't know why, but he just couldn't visualise their sex life as something normal. God, he had just sometimes stupidly thought that he didn't even have genitalia, let alone sexual desires. He was a bloody alien, all slanting chameleon eyes and ridiculous limb proportioning. Sherlock. With John. Having sex. Penises...
Christ.
Right, Gregory, just shut up now. Oh bollocks, Sherlock's now looking, smirking little sod. Great. That's just dandy, caught thinking about their sex life. He hadn't had sex for bloody ages and he finds out his best mate's been shagging his surrogate child for 8 months, what else is he meant to bloody think about! He wished Donovan would just do something now, anything, but she was deciding to be quiet, now of all times, when he needed her to be her usual provocative self. Say something, anything, Lestrade thought desperately, his mind was now going in circles and his paranoia was only growing as Sherlock's smirk became more pronounced with each second.
"As Lestrade seems to be thinking himself into a coma, I better tell you what I noticed. Wouldn't want everyone's favourite DI dying of a stroke due to over heating his little head."
Well, for Sherlock that was actually quite nice, he was expecting him to lay out every thought in Lestrade's lizard brain for the world to see. What he found out must have been exciting.
"Alright that's enough, Sherlock. Now gimme any info you got."
"He's made a mistake! It's so obvious! He predicted our reactions all wrong, as John just said, nothing would break us apart, and Moriarty has been going on the evidence he's seen in these CCTV tapes. Namely, he's seen a beginning of a relationship by an apparent sociopath and no direct declarations of love, none that he could see or hear anyway, and a refusal into going public. He is a psychopath, he doesn't understand these emotions himself and he is under the impression that I'm just like him and only with John for some reason other than companionship, maybe as a ruse or a way of keeping someone for the rent. No idea, just speculation at this point... But It all fits!"
"Right okay, when you take it out of context like that-"
John was cut off at that point, as Sally decided to finally throw in a comment.
"And how do we know that your not just a psychopath, hmm? How do we know that your not using John for other reasons?"
"Sergeant Donovan, if your gonna still believe that, then get out. And sign these papers before you do. I won't have you talk to them like that, are you blind? Did you really just not witness what happened not 10 minutes ago or what?"
Sally held her hands up in a protective gesture while two of the men glared at her. Surprisingly, Sherlock was just looking at her in bemused interest, no doubt already having deduced what she was going to say next and not be bothered to be offended.
"Sir, I'm not saying I believe that view, but others definitely will when they hear. And when a criminal genius thinks that... Well, others will probably go along with it, even though he's an evil bastard. I may not like him much, but I can tell that Sherlock is serious about this and... I'm just sorry it had to be like this guys, I really am."
She said this last sentence very quietly, staring down awkwardly at Sherlock and John's shoes. John was actually quite touched by this. If even Sally could see past her prejudices, maybe others could as well, given time. But she was correct, john thought bitterly, he was the only one to believe in Sherlock's emotions, to see past the sociopathic front he put on. The only one to bother to nurture that neglected, shrivelled seed of intimacy and affection that was within his blackened heart.
"Unfortunately Greg, Sally's right on the money. I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe it would be easier to show people the videos? Not all of it, god no. Just... Snippets that we could pick out where we show true affection, put Sherlock in a better light ya know? One of the reasons we kept this a secret was so that he didn't get any bad press, and I won't stand for it now the issue has been forced."
Sherlock made a face at this, why couldn't anyone other than John just accept him as he was for god sakes, was it really so hard to see him in a relationship?
"Hey it's just an idea, something to think about. Yet I still don't understand... How could Moriarty get it so wrong? As you said, he's meant to be a genius, and even if he truly is sociopathic, it really doesn't need spelling out..."
Sherlock was quiet. He knew why he had got it so wrong, yet he didn't want to say it. The others might look at him in pity or John would in some misguided way get protective. He had always, always had trouble with this, the human condition. He had always believed there was no point in emotions, they were messy, complicated; the fly in the ointment of humanity, yet part of the very definition of the word.
Sherlock had not grown up in a happy home. It hadn't even been a home to him, not really. The draughty halls and cold furnishings of the huge house did not allow for any kind of warm attachment. His father had left them, and his mother had been too busy wallowing in the self pity and the misplaced sense of blame that she had lain at her children's feet to be there for them like a mother should. Mycroft had left him, gone off to boarding school at a young age to get away from it all. What he had felt during his childhood... 'Well, that's all I had known I suppose,' Sherlock ruminated. 'I had not felt the good emotions, not felt affection or any sense of friendship, nothing like John had ever shown me: love and passion, a complete feeling of belonging that warms me from the inside out.' That was a proper home, where that burning torch lay. The place did not matter, it was the feeling.
John was home to him.
And that was how Sherlock had first declared his love for him, never had said the words properly aloud until just this morning. He hadn't been able to, fear had pierced him at random times, the what ifs had piled upon him. If he said the words truly out loud, for everyone to hear, he might wake up.
He may wake up from this fantastic fantasy, only to be dreaming in his four poster bed back at the chilly manor, or he could suddenly awaken from a coma, induced by drugs and his own helplessness.
But he hadn't.
This was real, nothing had changed; John was still right here.
And he was finally beginning to believe that he always would be.
"Sherlock? Woo-hoo, come in, earth to mop head,"
Sherlock shook himself and scowled as John waved a hand in front of his face. He may love the short arse, but he would not stand to be called 'mop-head'. He had a perfectly fine head of curls, thank you very much, ones he knew John loved.
"John I would appreciate it very much if you would not call me that again. I have warned you more than once, yet you seem to need reminding every time. I may be forced to put your mug on the top shelf like last time."
"Ha, knew it would get your attention though, am I right? Well, I don't think I would mind, considering what happened last time."
John gave him a secret glance, winking at him as his eyes smouldered. Sherlock's eyes widened and then he blushed violently and looked down shyly. John took pity on him and changed the subject, before the others cottoned on.
"So what were you gonna say? Any ideas on why he didn't realise, or are you just gonna sit there and get lost in that palace of yours?"
" I have several theories, yes. One which I am certain on, however. I will not explain it yet, it will become apparent in due course as we watch these videos. Which reminds me: Lestrade, is there any way in which a minimum amount of people get to see this? I realise you have protocol to carry out, but... I don't really care. I could just take them and destroy them, then you would have nothing. So, failing that, what are your suggestions?"
Before Lestrade had chance to retaliate, John looked over at him with an apologetic expression and made his way over to his partner and gently tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck in a soft reprimand.
"Sherlock, bit not good love. Might not want to threaten the detective inspector that has a documentation of our whole relationship. Leaves way too many embarrassing stories he could use for blackmail."
John then turned his head away to look properly at Lestrade, although not after giving Sherlock a sneaky peck on the bottom of his jaw, where he could reach properly. He knew Sherlock always thought this was endearing, even though he had never mentioned it. His expression was enough. The detective gave a small pleased 'hmm' and stopped fidgeting as John continued to stroke the back of his neck, hand sifting through the curls comfortingly.
"What he's trying to say, mate, is that if there is any way possible for this to be, I don't know, reduced to as little people and as little playback-slash-repeats of the damn things we would be extremely grateful."
Sherlock snorted at this, and John swotted at him playfully, as Greg spluttered slightly as the conversation did a one-eighty on him. God, Sherlock just had to make this difficult, didn't he. Although, he could completely understand. He might be willing to bend the rules a little, considering the circumstances. Shit, if his superiors found out... Well, they could just watch them for themselves, couldn't they? Lestrade really couldn't see them cautioning him for a slight tweak, not unless they wanted to comb through every piece of footage several times.
"Right, well. Boys, I got limited options here. I might be able to get the repeats down to two, and I think I can get away with just us four watching it, unless anything... Illegal occurs. Is there anything you can think of that would be described as such?"
Sherlock and John looked at each other, slightly panicked. There was an... admittedly huge list of things that could be considered illegal, not least of all John's gun. Sherlock was pretty sure Lestrade already knew about that though, so it was just... Thankfully, John stepped in.
"Greg, you may not want to ask us that. I know I've told you several things whilst at the pub, stories which contain, shall we say, a small amount of breaking and entering and other activities that we had to do in order to catch someone, and don't get me started on the amount of trouble he gets me into on a daily basis. You able to turn a blind eye? Mostly all of it has let you catch a criminal, so it's kinda necessary."
"Yes, John's right Lestrade, we- wait you told him?! What could have possibly convinced you to let that out? Other than stupidly large amounts of alcohol, although you've never come home extremely drunk, not since I said I would withhold se-"
"Alright! Yes I've never got drunk after you said...that. But Greg asked for a inside view on the cases I uploaded to the blog, kind of a behind the scenes look. Plus he wasn't on duty, and promised not to hold any of it against us in court. You know he couldn't anyway, not with Mycroft lurking about everywhere."
" urgh, well the git has to have some use doesn't he?"
"Right this is getting off the subject again. I guess... Yeah I'll have to, I can't use these as criminal evidence for offences against you anyway, the cameras are illegally placed so any crimes committed, unless extremely serious, cannot be held up... That's what I'll say, at any rate, if I get questioned."
"Thanks Greg, this means a lot to us, even though Sherlock might not acknowledge it." John threw out an elbow to give a soft dig into the lanky man's ribs, who growled slightly and said thank you under his breath.
"Okay enough of this, let's just play the them, we can worry about the red tape surrounding this cluster-fuck later. Right, let's get this over with. God help me."
Greg decisively got up and walked to the desk, settling himself into his seat as he grabbed the remote. He set them to rewind and glanced up at the three of them, taking in their hesitant expressions, and in the case of Sherlock and John, major embarrassment factored in. He grinned as he teased them.
"What, did you think you would side-track me by talking? Not gonna happen. I may be less intelligent than you but I know when someone's trying to distract me. Sit down, get comfortable and try not to die of embarrassment."
And with that, DI Gregory Lestrade winked, put his feet up and pressed play.