Title: Irresolute
Chapter: Chapter 2
Pairing/Characters: Unrequited John/Sherlock. Implied Sherlock/Lestrade.
Rating: T
Word Count: 954
Spoilers: It takes place after "The Great Game" but I don't really think anything is spoilery, but I caution anyway.
Summary: After a sick and over medicated Sherlock tells John he loves him and that Lestrade is his former lover, John tries to come to terms with these admissions and deal with his own sexual identity. Sherlock/John/Lestrade love triangle.

In this chapter Sherlock wakes up in John's bed and finds Lestrade by his bedside not John.
Notes/Warnings: Implied Male/Male relationship. Cursing.
Disclaimer: Don't own the rights.

Beta: Holly Xavier-Diggory

Sherlock wakes up with the mother of all headaches. His head feels so heavy. He blinks a few times until he feels safe enough to open them, and instantly realizes he's in John's bed.

"What the bloody hell?" He exclaims. A rather loud laugh comes from his right. He recognizes the laugh - Lestrade. He rests his head back on the pillow. "Where's John?"

"He called me and asked if I could look in on you, said he had urgent business. As soon as I got here he left. What did you do to the poor man? He looked like a chicken with its head cut off!"

Sherlock tries his best to recall but draws a blank. I haven't a clue. I remember something, a conversation with you."

"That's impossible. You've been sleeping like a baby, a very drugged up, snoring baby."

"I do not snore!" Sherlock snaps.

"Yes, you do. I recorded it all those years ago."

"That could have been anyone."

"You can never admit your wrong, can you?"

"I'm never wrong so there is no need to."

Lestrade sighs. "We had this same discussion five years ago."

Sherlock smirks wickedly at the memory. "Yes. It ended the same way a lot of our fights ended in bed."

"Which I believe down to manipulation on your part."

"Took you long enough to figure it out." Sherlock coughs and then sighs, disgusted. "When does this go away?"

"Well, considering how badly you take care of yourself, it might be harder for you. You might want to rethink overdosing on medicine in the near future. If you can't think about yourself, think of John. He was pale and had bloodshot eyes. He was definitely worse for wear."

Though Sherlock would never admit it, he did feel bad. Lestrade notices. "So tell me about this conversation we had."

"No." Sherlock curls up in John's blankets.

"Right about now I'm wishing I had played along and said it happened ."

"It did feel real. I was so sure of it. I didn't talk in my sleep, did I?"

"You did." Lestrade lies.

"Liar."

"Oh, how would you know, you don't even fess up to snoring."

Sherlock laughs. "Fine. I may have said I was sorry for how I used you." Sherlock was beginning to wonder if he had been given some kind of truth serum. He figures it must be the medicine and fatigue that is letting him lower his guard. He just doesn't have it in him to be 100% Sherlock. And he really did owe Lestrade an apology, John would be proud of him too.

Lestrade gives him a look of shock. "Wow, that must have been incredibly painful for you to admit."

"Very." Sherlock groans in pain.

An attentive Lestrade quickly hovers over him. "Where does it hurt? What's wrong?"

"It's not physical."

"Well, what is it?"

Sherlock stays silent.

"Damn it, Sherlock! You sounded so - It hurt to hear you in that much pain. Tell me!"

Sherlock looks at Lestrade sadly. "You must know. Even you can't be that stupid. I love John and I hate it. I hate unneeded emotions. I hate feeling like this. I love him and I resent him. He's distracting me from my work. It was so easy to keep everything transport before him."

Lestrade wipes a curl from his forehead. "Welcome to my world, it sucks."

"Still?"

"Always. You're a hard act to follow."

"I recall asking for a pity fuck." Sherlock says, which Lestrade might have found appealing if Sherlock didn't look and sound like utter crap.

"No!"

"That's what dream-you said, too. I can't get laid in reality or my dreams, how pathetic." Sherlock jokes.

Lestrade laughs. "You're incorrigible."

Sherlock huffs. "John's making me soft, damn it."

"Remind me to thank him then." Lestrade glances away briefly. "I envy him that. To be in John's shoes. To be the one who made you finally feel."

"Admittedly it would be easier if it was you, instead of straight as an arrow John."

"No, it wouldn't. Half the attraction to John is the challenge. Your heart is too much like your mind, it can't settle for ordinary or easy."

"Hmm."

"What? Too mushy for you."

"No, just surprised. I'm beginning to believe I don't give you enough credit."

"Finally catching on to that, huh?"

"Oh, hush."

"Do you think your well enough to go back to your room? I bet John would love his bed back when he comes home."

"Yes."

Lestrade helps the ailing Sherlock back to his bedroom.

"Rest." Lestrade bends down and whispers in his ear. "And if I ever considered a sexual relationship with you again, you wouldn't find me so easy to get this time around. You'd have to work for it."

Sherlock's eyes light up. "A challenge."

Lestrade grins. "Exactly."

Lestrade faces Sherlock. "And another thing - I won't be your poor man's John Watson. You won't get back in my bed until I know it's you and only you in my bed. I won't share my bed with you and John."

Lestrade's lips get so close to Sherlock's but right when Sherlock goes in for a kiss Lestrade pulls away.

"You fucking tease."

" I learned from the best. I'm not going to be your rebound or distraction. Now sleep, I'll be in the living room."

As soon as Lestrade left Sherlock found his phone and sent a text to John.

Sorry for last night. I'm still unsure what happened but Lestrade actually made me feel bad, so - sorry. Also how did I end up in your bed?

SH

Sherlock waits for John's reply but receives none, sparking Sherlock's curiosity and concern.

"John, where are you?"