Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belong to Sir ACD and in this reincarnation Moffat, Gatiss and the BBC. We own nothing and are only writing this for fun.
Tell Me This Night Is Over.
Chapter Three.
Greg hung John's jacket up on the coat hook so he'd remember to grab it in the morning and made his way down the hall to Mycroft's study. As he lifted a hand to knock, to give Mycroft time to hide any sensitive files, the door opened and out stepped two of the 'errand boys' Mycroft used from time to time, both of them looking decidedly worse for wear, scratches that looked like they'd tangled with an angry cat, bruises, torn suits, and the biggest one even had an eye swelling up at an alarming rate. "Jesus what the hell happened to you two?"
The largest one rumbled with a wince, "A mother bear," then he and his fellow proceeded to limp past Greg and down the hall.
Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling one hell of a headache building behind his temples. Really, how difficult could it be to put pressure and get one single file from one little slip of a woman. She was pixie sized for goodness sake. After the debacle at the crime scene he needed that medical file more than ever. He knew the truth now but not the how or the why of it. Christ, his brother always left such messes to be cleaned up. Not even Mycroft knew how to handle this though.
Greg walked in and perched on the corner of Mycroft's desk, "Well you look round about how I feel right now." He lifted a hand and laid it on the back of Mycroft's neck, gently squeezing, "I hate to ask considering how bad a day you're obviously having but I'm hoping you can sneak a way for Donovan's blood alcohol test from tonight to come back as over the legal limit. Give me more of a toehold to keep someone from crying to arrest John."
"You don't even have to ask, consider it done." Mycroft leaned back in his chair, into Greg's touch. "Speaking of your charming sergeant, she is part of the reason I am having such a glorious day. If it was possible I wouldn't mind strangle my little brother right now."
"Hard to strangle a dead man but by God his skill at leaving behind a shitstorm is unrivaled," Greg's voice was sad, much like he felt over Sherlock, "This one takes the cake though."
"Indeed." Mycroft hated seeing the sadness in Greg, knew that his lover felt guilty but he couldn't say anything. He had cocked up with Moriarty; he couldn't betray Sherlock's trust again, no matter the cost. Part of him wanted to reach Sherlock through one of the secure lines, scream at him, look what you have done, look at the mess you left behind, but he couldn't do that either. Sherlock was playing a dangerous game at the moment and he couldn't afford to lose focus and this...This would shoot that focus straight to hell.
Greg eyed him just a bit, he knew that Mycroft would have heard about Sally's outburst but would he have taken that as truth? Then again considering the things Mycroft saw on a regular basis a pregnant man probably wasn't too far outside the realm of possibility. "She was right, for once in a shocking turn of events. John is...erm you know." He just couldn't say it, he really couldn't say it. It was just too weird.
"With child yes, so I've learnt. I knew there was something wrong with him, ever since he fainted in the street and that lady doctor nearly took my head off. She hasn't left a single electronic trace, written the whole chart by hand. If she wasn't utterly annoying I would try to recruit her." Mycroft placed his hand on Greg's knee and squeezed. "I'm not exactly John's favorite person right now but if he wasn't such a stubborn arse he would see that I could help."
"Lady doctor? You mean Sarah? Huh, she's usually very sweet." He caught Mycroft's hand and laced their fingers together, "It's more than you being one of John's least favorite people right now though, I think. He's got a little Sherlock growing inside him, is going to be a parent and considering that he actually clocked Donovan, he's in serious protective mode right now. I think you scare him."
"I scare most people, it's what I do." It was said as a matter of fact. Mycroft was very much aware of what his place in life was, it was something he had chosen himself and walked into with wide open eyes so he had no right to complain. "Not even I would attempt to take John's child away from him though, nor be some sort of bogeyman strapping him down for experiments."
"I know that and I don't think John believes you'd strap him down for experiments," he cupped Mycroft's cheek gently, "It's the first scenario that scares him because you are in a position of power and you are the baby's uncle. John did sound resigned to you showing up though so when you do, just make sure he knows that all you want to do is help make things easier for him." Greg shook his head, "I can't even imagine how it must have felt for him to find this out. Go your whole life thinking you're the average bloke then boom, oh by the way you can get knocked up because of some weird twin absorby thing?"
"Chimerism." Mycroft added absently as another piece slotted into place as he heard that. So that explained the how then. "I don't doubt that John had a terrible shock and a hard time both now and in the future as well." And what a clusterfuck it would be when Sherlock came back. If John was this pissed with them now, Mycroft didn't even want to think what kind of reception Sherlock would get.
Greg nodded, "You, Uncle Mycroft, are going to have your hands full with this one," he trailed his fingers through Mycroft's hair.
Mycroft made a small hum of pleasure at Greg's touch. "I'm going to have to be sneaky I suppose, protect people who doesn't want to be protected. Maybe I should take lessons from you; you face that every day after all."
He snorted, "Oh people want to be protected, they just have their own opinions on how it should be done and who they trust to do it. My problems come in when the higher ups assign people I can't trust at my back to work with me."
"People have slept their way to the top since the beginning of time...Just look at you; you're sleeping with the British Government?" Mycroft gave him a wry smile.
Greg caught the back of his neck again and leaned in, pulling Mycroft forward, "Yeah but I'm not sleeping with you because I'm trying to get anywhere," he nibbled at Mycroft's bottom lip, "Being in your bed is my ultimate goal Mr. Government."
"Mmm, you've reached that goal then since my bed is where you'll stay from now on. The Government doesn't share." Mycroft flicked his tongue against Greg's top lip, reaching up to smooth his hand over silvery hair. "My point is though, that when you sleep your way to the top, you don't have any solid ground to stand on and when you fall you fall in a way that leaves you unable to ever climb up again. With her stunt today, Sergeant Donovan has fallen."
"Thank God for small favors but if it's all the same to you, can we leave the subject of Donovan for the night, not exactly the thoughts I want in my head or yours when I'm kissing you."
"Don't worry; you won't be able to think anything but me after I'm done with you." Mycroft grabbed Greg until he'd managed to maneuver the other man into his lap.
"Good," Greg happily straddled Mycroft's lap and tilted his head to claim the other's mouth in a scorching kiss. These days this was where he felt alive and not just a wasted, used up old copper. Being with Mycroft gave him strength to keep moving forward and not get sucked up into a morass of blame and guilt. He hoped he was able to do the same for the other man that he was falling fast and deeply in love with.
One hand gripped Greg's hip and the other traveled up and down his back, over the soft fabric of Greg's shirt. Mycroft happily surrendered to the kiss, moving his lips and tongue in tandem with his lover. Greg Lestrade was the one real thing in his life, the one thing that was his. His whole life was made up of ruling without anyone knowing it, without anyone knowing him but Greg knew him, saw behind the shadows and smoke and Mycroft adored him for it.
Greg's hand found itself wrapping Mycroft's tie around it and he nibbled and sucked at his lover's lips, "If you're done for the day," he licked into Mycroft's mouth briefly, "then what do you say we get into that humongous lake of padding you call a mattress and we can have dessert before dinner in bed?"
"You know me; I can never turned down anything sweet." Mycroft smiled against Greg's lips. "Come on then, but once we reach my decadent bed you better already be naked." He reached down and squeezed Greg's bum.
He rolled back, out of Mycroft's lap and onto his feet, pulling his lover along by the tie as he walked backward out of the office and toward Mycroft's bedroom, his other hand already working to pull his own tie off, toss his jacket to the ground, and unbutton his shirt, "That can be arranged but don't take your clothes off," he nipped at Mycroft's jaw, "I want to do that. I love stripping you out of those suits piece by piece until I've got you naked in front of me."
Mycroft made a sound of pure want deep in his throat. Gods what this man did to him. He busied himself with running his hands all over the inches of skin that was revealed as Greg stripped. This was the only man he'd ever let lead him around by his tie, when Greg was the one doing it, then Mycroft could relax and just allow himself to feel, to take what he wanted. "Concentrate on getting your own clothes off first before worrying about mine." He mouthed at Greg's neck, just below his ear.
"I can multi-task," it was a rough, husky declaration as Greg shrugged out of his shirt and jacket, pressing Mycroft against the wall for the brief moments he had to release the tie so he could. He pressed his leg up between Mycroft's thighs, rubbing against the junction of his legs and the hard bulge there as he toed off his shoes and socks.
"Good, I've always been especially fond of the skill of multi-tasking." Mycroft rubbed himself against the strong, hard thigh pressing against his erection. There was something deeply erotic about being fully clothed, right down to his gleaming cuff-links as Greg was getting more and more undressed.
Greg caught Mycroft's mouth in another kiss and pulled him along once more; heading for the bedroom, and it was just outside the bedroom door that Greg undid his trousers and shoved them and his pants off, kicking the offending garments away. He pulled Mycroft into the bedroom, tongue greedily exploring his lover's mouth.
"Mmm." The sound that escaped Mycroft was half groan and half purr. He pushed against Greg's tongue with his own, tangling them together as he reached down and wrapped a slender, elegant hand around his lover's shaft, keeping his touches light and teasing.
He growled into Mycroft's mouth, hungry and playful at the same time, and rolled his hips into the light grasp. Greg sucked on his lover's tongue, nipped at his lip, and kissed his way down his throat before moving back just a bit so he could look down and watch what he was doing as his fingers slowly unknotted Mycroft's tie and slid it out of the fine quality shirt collar. He slipped his hands under the suit jacket, pushing it off Mycroft's shoulders and down his arms with a sensual smile.
Mycroft let Greg undress him, not caring at all where the clothes ended up. The only thing that caused him got give a growling protest was that he had to let go of Greg's erection in order to get the jacket sleeve all the way off. He wanted to touch, to taste but he had promised that Greg could take his clothes off and he didn't go back on his promises, not the ones made to Greg anyway.
Greg took advantage of the moment, unbuttoning Mycroft's waistcoat and stripping it off, then doing the same to the shirt, licking his lips as freckled skin was revealed. Once Mycroft was shirtless, he smoothed his hands over the narrow chest with its lean muscle. Mycroft, for all that he preferred sedentary life, was not in any way fat. Not to Greg's eyes. Matter of fact he often felt that, with the way Mycroft starved himself, his lover was too skinny. He leaned in and pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to Mycroft's collarbone.
Being able to use his hands again, Mycroft took advantage, roaming Greg's skin, caressing and scratching gently at the broad expanse of his back. Greg's skin was warm and smooth, some scars dotting in here and there but that only made him more beautiful in Mycroft's eyes. Greg was all strong lines and corded muscles and he turned Mycroft inside out, Gods he wanted the other man so much, wanted him in every way possible, in every aspect of his life.
The noise Greg made could be likened to a purr as he nipped his way down Mycroft's chest, sucking hard to bring blood to the surface and leave a mark. His hands danced over ribs too prominent for his liking, he'd have to send Mycroft a basket of turn-overs again, to play his fingers along notched hipbones. Mycroft was intoxicating to him but at the same time he also spurred Greg's protective drive to life. His lover just didn't take good enough care of himself so Greg was determined to do it for him.
Mycroft loved Greg's hands on him, they left him shivering and shaking. He was a man though, he wouldn't break and he wouldn't mind if Greg was a little rougher, if he just took what he wanted. Mycroft actually liked the thought of having finger shaped bruises to hide behind his suits as a quiet reminder. To let Greg know that, he ran his own hands down to Greg's rather extraordinary behind. He cupped it before digging his nails in, not to the point of paint though, it was never about pain only pleasure.
Greg lifted his head, brows raised, and met Mycroft's eyes, "Oh really now?" A smile flickered over his lips and he had Mycroft's belt and trousers undone and down between breaths, leaving him in a pool of tweed in only his briefs. He dropped to his knees, looking up with mischief and hunger at Mycroft as he worked shoes and socks off.
Mycroft looked back, one eyebrow raised. Oh but did Greg look delicious on his knees like that. He brought his hands to Greg's face, running his fingertips over his lover's cheek, jaw line and lips before threading them into Greg's short hair, tugging lightly. "Oh really." He agreed softly. "Think you can handle it?"
A grin, full of teeth and sexual intent, preceded a sharp, just this side of hurting, bite to Mycroft's hip. "The question," it was purred out, "is if you can handle it." He swirled his tongue over the already purpling bite and yanked down Mycroft's briefs in one smooth, speedy moment. His hands went to grip Mycroft's hips and he ran his tongue up the underside of his erection, holding him perfectly still. It was a firm grip that spoke of the capability of becoming hard in an instant. If Mycroft wanted to be marked and taken a little roughly, that was what he'd get but on Greg's terms.
Oh dear, sweet God. How did Greg expect him to keep still with that teasing tongue on his prick? Not to mention to look in Greg's eyes, that alone was enough for Mycroft's hips to buck on their own. His hands tightened as best they could in Greg's short strands and a pleading moan left his lips.
Greg's hold tightened just enough to force Mycroft's hips into stillness as he continued to swipe his tongue all over his lover's shaft, down to suck on the skin of Mycroft's scrotum, tonguing one ball then the other before returning to tormenting the now weeping cock. He flicked the tip of his tongue over the head, catching precome and licking it up with a pleased sound before he closed his lips around it.
"Christ, you evil, teasing berk." Mycroft's voice was gravelly with arousal and if Greg hadn't held his hips in an unrelenting hold then he would have been fucking Greg's mouth by now. That mouth was a marvel after all, so tight and wet and with the most wicked tongue Mycroft had ever felt on his person. His breath came out in gasping pants as he kept his eyes locked on his lover. "Just look at you, look how gorgeous you are like this."
Greg pulled his mouth off just long enough to answer, "Oh gorgeous is a matter of opinion Mycroft. For example I'd call the way you look right now beyond gorgeous." That said he took Mycroft's cock back into his mouth, taking more in this time and pulling back teasingly, setting up a slow bob of his head, sliding Mycroft's prick in and out between his lips. He loved to make Mycroft shiver and pant with desire, to break down the walls his lover guarded himself with, to absolutely wreck Mycroft Holmes' control.
Mycroft tensed as he shuddered at pleasure so intense in almost bordered on pain. Mycroft wanted, oh God how he wanted. Greg's slow sucks were so wonderful, gut-twistingly fantastic but it wasn't enough. Mycroft needed more. He needed to move, to grab and hold on as pleasure swallowed him whole. If Greg hadn't been holding his hips he wasn't sure that his knees wouldn't have buckled. "Please...Just please Greg."
He didn't reply verbally, instead he pulled off Mycroft's cock and lifted him, going the few steps to the bed and dropping his lover onto the mattress. He grabbed the lube and a condom from the bedside table, turned Mycroft over and pulled him up so he was on his knees, spread his arse cheeks, and ran his tongue over the puckered hole.
It wasn't a whine, Mycroft would deny that to his dying breath. A Holmes did not whine...A Mycroft might but that was neither here nor there. He fisted his hands in soft, soft sheets and pushed his arse back toward Greg's face.
Greg let Mycroft push back even as he licked and massaged the pucker with his tongue until he could just push it inside, and get a sharp cry from Mycroft at the same time. He fucked him with his tongue, licking in and out in what he knew had to be a maddening rhythm for Mycroft. Not nearly enough to toss his lover over, which was the point. He want Mycroft pushed so far beyond control that by the time he came, with Greg's cock deep inside him, he was screaming.
Mycroft rocked his entire body into the sensations Greg was giving him, his toes curled with each push and his fingers turned white with the death grip he had on his sheets. Now he might be whining, he was certainly moaning and pleading and much too far gone to care. He needed more, he needed to come, to be filled. One hand tightened its grip on the beddings even more and the other crawled down beneath his own legs to tug and stroke his prick. All Mycroft wanted now was to get off.
Greg made a sound, remarkably like a growl, pulled Mycroft's hand away from stimulating himself, and pulled his tongue out of him to bite one round arse cheek, "Oh no you don't."
He opened the lube and poured some down the crack of Mycroft's arse, making sure it ran over the entrance to his body, then brought his fingers to it. He pressed one into him in a slick glide, licking over the bite on his lover's arse cheek as he did. He chuckled huskily. Every time Mycroft sat down tomorrow, he'd be feeling that mark as well as the other results of Greg fucking him blind.
Mycroft felt like a live wire, as if he was buzzing with electricity from the inside out. He clenched around Greg's finger, hoping to entice his lover into adding another one or even better just fuck him. He wanted it, he was empty and aching and only Greg could fix it right now. Sweat dampened his hair and pooled at his lower back as he bucked and twisted. "Please just get on with it before I ride my own fingers and get off that way." It was supposed to come out as a growl but changed to a high pitched squeal when Greg's finger brushed against his prostate.
Another rough, growling sound came from the DI, "Oh no you won't," he pushed a second finger into Mycroft, lapping at the skin that stretched around them, giving mental thanks that he'd grabbed the flavored lube as he did so. He pushed his fingers in and out, scissoring them to stretch and tease, only pressing on Mycroft's prostate when his lover began to complain, and loving to noises he got out of him. "You're not going to come until I say so," he tore open the condom with his teeth and rolled it on with one hand before licking a long line up Mycroft's back as he drizzled more lube over his sheathed cock, "because if you do I'm going to pull out and we'll start this all over again until you can't even remember what day it is much less your own name."
"Where do these sadistic tendencies come from?" Mycroft wasn't complaining though, oh no, very much not complaining. He felt Greg's hot shaft against his arse and tried to rub against it, to get inside him. Despite Greg's threats it wasn't in him to give in completely, he still had some fight left in him. "Don't you want to make me come on your cock? To feel me clench and shudder around you? Do you really want to wait any longer? Don't you want to see if you can make me come just from fucking me? No touch to my cock?"
Greg nipped at the back of his neck, just below the collar-line, with a growl, "Behave." Mycroft's words had certainly hit their mark, he was throbbing almost painfully, but Greg could play just as well. He pulled his fingers out and rubbed his cock up and down between Mycroft's arse cheeks, smirking at the increasingly desperate sounds his lover made. He licked at a shoulder blade, scraped teeth over skin, sucked.
Mycroft's arms had given out and he was resting his cheek against the mattress, only his arse still in the air with his legs spread as wide as they would go. His heart was pounding as if it was trying to burst out of his chest and Mycroft ached. His hole clenched every time Greg rubbed over it and his prick was dribbling precome unto the sheets. "My fingers are starting to look more and more tempting you bastard...They...nnnnggghhhhh, they get the job done those nights when you're on a case. I push them inside me then, spread myself wide and pretend it's you."
Greg groaned and licked reached down to hold Mycroft's hips, "Do you now? Tell me when you come do you call my name? Do you scream it out like I love to hear? Are they enough to really take the place of this?" He angled his hips and pressed into Mycroft in one long, hard slide.
Mycroft let out a short, hoarse shout and shivered as he adjusted to having Greg inside him. "Nnnnnooooo, nothing can compare to you, to this. Please, please Greg...Move."
"As you wish," it was a husky purr that was soon followed by him pulling back, slipping out and out of Mycroft until only the tip of him was still inside, then he powered back into him and repeated the move. Slow slide out, fast and hard back in, his hands pulling Mycroft back into each thrust sharply. "God baby you're so tight around me. Hot and tight and perfect." He rolled his hips as he thrust in to brush against the sweet spot deep inside his lover.
Mycroft, groaned, grunted and moaned with every thrust. This was a side of him that was Greg's and Greg's alone. He would never even consider lowering his guard for anyone else but Greg had broken through all of his defenses, made him feel safe, treasured and wanted all at the same time. It was dangerous, feeling this strongly for someone he'd only been with for a short time but Mycroft couldn't help the way he felt. "Mmm, you too, you feel so good inside me, touch me just right...so deep."
Greg leaned down and pressed a kiss that was at odds with the rough thrusts on Mycroft's skin. This man beneath him had a talent for pulling everything he was out into daylight, examining all of it and putting it back scrambled and messed up and knotted and Greg couldn't imagine anything sweeter. Mycroft could destroy him with a few words but he was more than willing to risk that because it was worth it. "You're coherent," he nuzzled Mycroft's skin, "I have to do something about that."
He jerked his hips faster, in and out, slamming into Mycroft in fevered, hard movements, drawing sharp cries from him that had Greg shivering. God he loved making Mycroft cry out in pleasure. Loved to hear how much he was affecting his normally cool and composed lover. It was beautiful to make Mycroft fall apart in his arms.
It didn't take much to drive every thought out of his ever active mind, Mycroft just rocked with Greg's thrusts, feeling his whole body thrum and pulse as Greg pushed in and out of him. All he could do now was hold, on try to anchor himself in the sheets beneath him and try not to shatter. He knew he was fighting a losing battle though, the signs were already there, the tightening of his balls, the pleasure shooting down his spine, curling in his belly.
All it took was one more drive of Greg's cock past his prostate and Mycroft was coming, howling his head off.
Mycroft's scream and the feel of him clenching hard around him set Greg following after with a harsh shout, a few short thrusts riding out his release, his hands clenching tighter on the narrow hips. He shuddered and slumped over Mycroft, tipping them carefully onto their sides after he pulled out and removed the condom, tying it off. He pulled Mycroft back against him snuggly, pressing a tender kiss to one shoulder and wrapping his arms around him.
Even though his body was in limp noodle form, Mycroft twisted until he was facing Greg. Then he wheedled closer again and wrapped his own arms around Greg in return, pressing soft, lazy, sated kisses against Greg's skin wherever he could reach without stretching. He was a fucked out piece of blissful goo and really too tired to even cuddle but still craving contact with Greg.
Greg chuckled and ran his fingers up and down Mycroft's skin, "That what you wanted baby?"
"Oh God yes...Exactly what I've been craving. Thank you love." Mycroft nearly bit his tongue off when he realized just what word had slipped out.
His fingers stutter in their stroke for a moment at that word but then he resumed the movements and chose to pull Mycroft closer, kissing his temple. "You're welcome cariad."
Something soft, warm and lovely settled in Mycroft's belly hearing that and he draped himself across Greg like a boneless limpet, just enjoying the closeness and afterglow.
Greg closed his eyes and settled into the warmth of Mycroft and let his worries for the day slip out the door. Tomorrow was soon enough to stress over how the bloody hell he was going to help John.
oOo
Sarah stalked up the stairs of 221 to John's flat and knocked softly, his file cradled protectively in her arms. She'd waited over night to come about this because she'd wanted to give John a stress free evening. She just hoped the bloody gorillas hadn't come here.
John opened the door, a relieved expression spreading on his features when he saw that it was Sarah and not Lestrade. He knew he had to talk to Greg but that didn't mean that he looked forward to it. "Come in." He furrowed his brows as he stopped to look at her. "Are you alright? You look upset."
"I'm irritated," she stepped inside and looked around, heading over to the couch and flopping down with a long, exhausted sigh, setting the file on the coffee table, "and tired but that's somewhat my own fault." She studied him curiously, "And you don't look like you're in any better of a mood than I am. What's wrong?"
"Oh fuck...Where do I start?" He sank down in his chair, one hand on his belly. "I never did make it to Angelo's last night, got sidetracked by a stabbing, he died in my arms by the way. The yard came, Sally was a real shit fountain and I punched her in the face, would have done more if Greg hadn't dragged me off of her...Oh but she managed to deduce I was preggers so now Greg knows too and after me punching her no doubt so does Mycroft. Other than that my evening was just peachy...How about you?"
She hissed, "Oh I swear I'm going to get my hands on that immeasurable twat and rip her hair out. As for my evening, well my visitors at the door turned out to be the King Tit's minions, asking that I pretty please give them your medical file before trying to barrel past me and find it themselves." She snorted, "They soon learned their mistake."
John gave her a slack jawed, wide eyed look before he cracked up and started giggling, giggling, completely unable to stop. "Oh Christ, I would have loved to witness that. I'm sure they jumped at their own shadow by the time you were done with them...And punching Sally...You have no idea how good it felt. It shouldn't have, I should be ashamed but I'm not, I'm really, really not."
"Of course you shouldn't be ashamed. The bloody bint had it coming. I'd have done more than just punch her had it been me." She got up and went to perch on the arm of his chair, smooth her hand over his hair, "And the gorillas certainly did limp away fast enough to report to their lord and master." She sighed, "How did DI Lestrade take it?"
"He turned a whiter shade of pale and lost the use of his legs." John's lips twitched a little before he turned serious. "He thought Sally was talking out of her arse at first...Then he asked me if I really was a man and not a chunky woman with bound breasts...I miss him Sarah, I miss his friendship but I can't trust him."
She squeezed his shoulder, "I'm not going to try and convince you that you should. Unless you want me to?"
He shook his head. "No, if our friendship is going to mend, if that's even possible then it is something I have to figure out on my own." John was aware that he wasn't thinking entirely clear when it came to Lestrade and his part in what had let to the final move at Barts but his heart and his head was at war and so far the heart was winning.
"Okay. So I-" she turned her head toward the door when the buzzer sounded, "Expecting anyone or should I grab a frying pan?"
"Speak of the devil I say, that is probably the Detective Inspector himself. I have his jacket and I sort of ran out on him without giving a statement after being rude." John shrugged and got up from the chair to open the door.
Greg was coming up the stairs, having been let in the first door by Mrs. Hudson, and he looked up at John, smiling tightly as he finished clearing the final few steps. "John."
"Greg, please do come up." John was tense and felt awkward but he was trying, he really was. As they entered the flat he looked between Greg and Sarah. "I think you've met before but still, Sarah Sawyer, meet Gregory Lestrade and the other way around. Sarah is my friend as well as my doctor."
Greg nodded, taking in her tired but not injured appearance with an awkward smile, "Dr. Sawyer."
"Inspector," she gave him a cool nod as he stepped in.
He looked around, noting a few changes but mostly it was almost the same way it had been when he'd had to come here to arrest Sherlock. Right down to the Cluedo board stuck against the wall. He scratched the back of his head, "I left your jacket on the hook downstairs." He moved to sit on the couch. "Nothing's going to come of the Donovan incident, just so you know. All the constables and witnesses say she swung first and she was drunk so," he shrugged a bit.
"She wasn't drunk at all; she was her usual horrible self...but thank you. In case it is you I should thank and not King Tit himself." John raised a brow before walking to get Greg's jacket. "I'm sorry; I think I got blood on it...Just send me the bill for the dry cleaning." He took a moment to breathe. "Tea?"
"Yeah, sure, thanks. Don't worry about the blood. It's not the first and probably not going to be the last time it happens." He settled his jacket in his lap and asked, "King Tit?"
Sarah crossed her arms with a smirk, "My petname for Mycroft Holmes."
Greg's lips twitched, he'd have to tell Mycroft about that when he saw him again. A text wouldn't do it; he wanted to see his face. "Ah."
John walked into the kitchen area, going through the motions, putting the kettle on, gathering cups, milk, sugar and honey on a tray. It felt a little surreal, Greg hadn't been at the flat since Sherlock's death and John didn't know quite how to act. He was going to try for civil but other than that he had no clue. He thanked the fates that Sarah was there with him and that he didn't have to do it on his own.
"And after last night I dare him to face me in person, I'll break that pointy nose with a frying pan."
Greg coughed, "Er..."
"He sent two hulking gorillas to my home to try and strong-arm John's file from me," her eyes flashed in pure female insult and fury. "I don't suppose it's your division to arrest them is it?"
"Not technically no," it took everything Greg had to keep from laughing as he imagined this itty bitty woman taking on and damaging Mycroft's errand boys.
"Greg's division doesn't concern you as long as you're breathing; he's only interested once you're dead." Okay so much for trying. John mentally kicked himself and busied himself with readying the tea. Once it was done he used one of the teapots Mrs. Hudson had brought up, John still didn't really know why, and carried the tray out to the living room. "Sorry." It was mumbled under his breath.
"It's alright," it had stung but John deserved to vent, not to mention being pregnant wasn't likely to make it easier on his mood. "You're entitled."
"No...I'm really not and I do apologize." He set the tray down on the table. "No matter what my feelings are regarding you and should keep my mouth shut. I'm no Sally."
"For which the world should give fervent thanks," Greg muttered into the cup of tea he'd been handed, "More than one of her in one city would offset the rotation of the bloody earth with the big head and amount of hot air spewing from it."
Sarah snickered, "Why work with her if you don't like her?"
"I didn't assign her to my unit, she got assigned to it by the Superintendent, supposedly to smooth my way with the media," he took a bracing sip of tea, "and it's been a fight since day one." He shook his head, "Not why I'm here so it doesn't matter."
"Speaking of the Superintendent though, can he finally breathe through his nose now without making that high pitched whistling sound? John met Greg's eyes, faint amusement shining in his own, he did not regret clocking that idiot.
Greg's lips twitched, "Don't know, he's on 'extended leave' pending the internal investigation into his actions. He took all his saved vacation time to avoid having to deal with it in person. Donovan hasn't had that luxury."
"Poor her." John's voice dripped with insincerity. "So about last night then, it really went down the way I told you. I was on my way to dinner when there was a scuffle in an alley, the man called for help but I didn't get there until he had already been stabbed. I didn't see the culprit. The man talked about his wife and then he died, I can give you the step by step medical explanation about bleeding out through a liver wound if you think you need it."
"No, thanks. I've seen liver wounds before. Did he mention what jewelry store? If we can find out what he bought exactly we can put a watch out for hawkers with the pawn shops."
John thought about it. "No I don't think he mentioned the name of the store but he did say he had just stepped out from it when he was pulled into the alley so it shouldn't be too difficult to deduce what jewelry store is closest. Also it must be on route from his work, he'd stopped to buy his wife a bauble to apologize for having to work so much."
"Alright," Greg nodded, chest squeezing just a bit at hearing the word 'deduce' drop out of John's mouth in the same manner Sherlock had often rattled it out. He looked around as he sipped on his tea, not really sure where to step that wouldn't be a minefield of bitterness and blame. He frowned when he spotted the shot smiley on the wall, "You have a gun lock right? Or a lock box for the Browning?" He'd never let on that he knew about John's gun so that question might come as a surprise to the other man but it was something that needed to be thought about with a baby on the way.
"What Browning?" The reply came smooth and calm and John hid the small twitch of surprise he felt at Greg's comment behind the rim of his teacup. "If there were any hypothetical illegal firearms in this flat then yes, a lock box would have been acquired." He took another sip of his tea, already quite a bit sick of the 'healthy' non caffeinated teas he was drinking these days.
Greg shook his head, "You realize I've known about the bloody thing since A Study in Pink right? Sherlock didn't exactly do a good job of convincing me he'd deduced incorrectly out of shock."
Sarah looked between Greg and John then stared at her friend and patient, "You're the one who shot the cabbie?"
"I'm sure I have no idea what the two of you are on about." John was a picture of confused innocence. "If I did though, why would that be so strange? I was in the army and it wasn't that long of a distance, couldn't have been more than a hundred meters at the most between the buildings...Easy shot."
"But you're...John. Not to mention the medical corps aren't supposed to participate in action." Sarah studied him in vague surprise.
Greg just hummed, "There's always been a warrior behind those fluffy jumpers Dr. Sawyer, and supposed to doesn't mean much when bullets are flying really."
"Even as a doctor, you can't go to war reluctant to use your weapon, that's a sure way to get yourself killed very, very quickly. Yes, I am a doctor but I am a soldier too and if I had been forced to make a choice between the two back when it mattered then I am not sure what that choice would have been. I liked the army and if I hadn't gotten shot then I would still be there." John was aware that it wasn't the healthiest mindset to have, liking war. He didn't like the killing, didn't like to kill and he didn't always agree with the politics behind the war but the sense of purpose, he did like that, the danger and the adrenaline...Well he'd always liked that.
Sarah rolled her eyes and gave John a hug, "You're so damaged but at least you're cute with it."
"Cute with it? I don't know whether to be amused or offended." John's lips were twitching though. "You know you have to be careful with me these days Sarah, unless you want me to burst into tears at the drop of a word, the hormones you know." John didn't do that but the expression on Greg's face as he said it was priceless.
Greg fought the urge to stick his tongue out at John heroically, winning by a hair, "Oh well excuse me. I'm not exactly in my depth here you know. My experience with pregnancy has been, essentially, an observer while Cynthia went through the mood swings from hell. How am I supposed to know if a man has better or worse ones?"
"You think I'm in my depth then? I haven't even been an observer, I was a bloody surgeon before I became a locum...What I have the joy of experiencing is all wonderful firsts for me." That was why John was so extremely grateful to have Sarah, every time something new happened that scared him half to death, he could at least call her.
Speaking of said woman, her shoulders were shaking with laughter, "You're handling them well at least. And you know you could read the book, it may not be completely accurate for you considering physiology and hormonal differences but the basic growth of a fetus remains the same no matter the body it grows in."
Lestrade had to look over at a window because really, the way she was talking made him think more of Alien chest bursters and not human babies.
"I did read the book and it freaked me out, must be written by pure sadists that one." John made a face. 'What to expect when expecting' was now used downstairs in Mrs. Hudson's rooms to keep her bookcase from tilting over, the best use possible for such a shite piece of literature in John's mind.
"You're such a big baby," she poked him in the cheek, "It's a good thing Lamaze classes are out for you. You'd probably pass out during the birth video."
"As any sane man should," Greg remembered that video, talk about a horror film.
"Didn't we just settle that I am a gritty soldier? And a doctor who's used to having his hands inside other people? That said, I think I would rather get shot in the other shoulder than go to Lamaze class or watch that birthing video." John shuddered violently.
"Wise man. Wise, wise man," Greg finished his tea just as his mobile chimed.
"Looks like duty calls. Will you be needing me to sign anything?" John leaned back in his chair as Greg fiddled with his phone to read his text.
Greg's lips twitched when he read the text, it came from Mycroft asking if Dr. Sawyer was pleased with herself. He sent back the simple answer of 'Very.' and got up, passing his statement pad over to John, "Just go over that then sign at the bottom if it's accurate."
"Hm," John accepted the pad but his eyes were on Greg. "Not duty then, if anything at the Yard, especially in your division makes you smile like you just did then I would worry for this Nation...More than I do already that is." He skimmed over the statement and signed his name at the bottom before handing the statement pad back to Greg.
"Excuse me but there is one thing that I could get from the Yard that would make me grin like a loon I'll have you know." He shrugged into his jacket.
"Possibly but this was not that. This was the smile of someone smitten." John stayed seated as Greg got ready to leave. Things were still not okay between them and John didn't know if they ever would be but it was nice that they could spend time together without tearing each other's wounds open.
"Yeah, sort of recent development." He tucked his phone back into his pocket, "If you need any help with heavy lifting or what all, baby proofing, whatever, you can call me, just so you know. I know I'm not high in your esteem but I'd eat a gun before I did anything to hurt a kid." He hoped John knew that.
"I know you wouldn't hurt a child." John could continue that sentence but he really didn't want to be the bitter man he'd become so he held those words back. "We'll see, Sarah is pretty good with heavy lifting actually, I might just make her do all the carrying."
"Oh you only wish you could," she ruffled his military short hair, "Especially near the end of it when you won't be able to bend over or even see your-"
"Okay! Well that'll be it for the day, just remember to ring me up if there's anything I can do John. I'll just...let myself out." Greg didn't care that Sarah was laughing at him as he retreated before she could finish.
"I was going to say feet."
"Sure you were Sarah...Sure you were." John reached over and pat her knee, a wide, amused smile on his lips.
"It got him gone didn't it? So mission accomplished. Now, on to the subject of the King Tit, unpleasant though it is." She drank some of her tea, "What do you want to do since he's probably found out your condition?"
John groaned. "Well since I doubt that ignoring him and hoping he'll go away will work, maybe call a meeting. Iron a few things out. This child might be half Holmes but it's all mine, I am not going to let him get any of his sticky fingers on my baby. Especially not considering what a stellar job he did helping and supporting his younger brother."
She gave him a squeeze, "You have his number then? So we can knock it out all at once and get back to the important stuff?" She wasn't going to let John have a meeting with Mycroft Holmes alone.
"I do have his number in my phone. I may not like the man but erasing his number would just be idiotic and a plea for him to stage another one of his kidnappings." John leaned forward to get his phone from the sofa table. He sent of a text, not wanting to speak to the other man just yet.
'We should talk. - JW.'
'Agreed, I'll be at Baker Street in 20 minutes. - M.'
John just snorted and showed the text to Sarah, not at all surprised that Mycroft knew exactly where he was.
She rolled her eyes, "Lovely. He can have cold tea and a stale cracker." She got up to watch out the window for the described evil black car. "And the handmaiden can wait outside."
"How very friendly and welcoming you are...I like it." John couldn't deny that he was nervous; he knew the power Sherlock's brother had and he knew that Mycroft was not afraid to use it.
She didn't offer any soothing words as much as she'd like to. She might have kicked the gorillas out but they'd actively tried not to hurt her so it wasn't really a win. She was vividly aware that if the bastard put on the real pressure they weren't likely to win. She spotted the car and the King Tit getting out of it, followed of course by his handmaiden. She went to the door and waited for the knock.
Mycroft rapped his knuckles against the door shortly, merely raising a brow when it was the lady doctor who opened it. "Good day Dr. Sawyer, you are looking well. More than I can say for Avery and Stinson, I think they may actually require therapy after what you put them through. Set up appointments for them will you Anthea?" He tossed the last words over his shoulder at his assistant who nodded without looking up from the screen of her phone.
"Well I'd thought we'd established that I don't like bullies and I take patient confidentiality very, very seriously," she moved aside just enough to let him in then closed the door in the texting woman's face with a quick snap.
"Really now Dr. Sawyer, that wasn't very nice." Mycroft's tone was lightly scolding but he fished out his own phone and told Anthea to wait in the car, only call on him if a serious situation arose.
He walked into the flat, taking in the changes and more importantly the things that had stayed the same. John was sitting in his usual chair, jaw set and shoulders back, looking very much like the soldier he'd been the first time Mycroft had met him.
"Neither is sending goons to my home because you're irritated that I managed to get one up on you and keep John's privacy just that, private, for a month." She moved to pick up John's file, taking it with her when she went to stand behind his wing chair.
Mycroft only waved his hand in the air in a dismissive motion. "They were told to ask nicely. Besides after Captain Watson's heroics last night and Sergeant Donovan's verbal diarrhea I think I am pretty much caught up...If that wasn't the case you would never have called for a meeting in the first place."
Mycroft moved over to what had been Sherlock's chair and sat down, ignoring John's intake of breath at that. He crossed his long legs and looked at the united front in front of him. "Despite your beliefs John, I do consider you family, now more than ever. I am not a complete Monster, of course I will not be trying to take your child from you. It is however my niece or nephew you are carrying...If I see a threat against either of you I will handle it without asking or consulting you first."
John didn't know what to say, the only thing he wanted was to plant his fist in the other man's face...again.
"Oh well done, yes that is exactly what someone wants to hear from family," Sarah's voice was sharp and mocking, "Sure I care, enough that I don't give a flying fig about your opinion." She glared at him, "You really make me want to hit you do you know that? This," she gestured to him and his little power play with where and how he sat, "This isn't what family does, not real family. You don't order family around 'for their own sake' or treat them like they don't have a mind and intelligence of their own. You bloody ask before you go around pronouncing things like the great King Tit you are."
"You really are very violent for a doctor." Mycroft hid his amusement at the nickname behind his usual mask. As far as nicknames went this one was rather inspiring. "Family protects family, sometimes unsuccessfully but it is what they do all the same. Luckily I don't give a flying fig about your opinion either so we are in accord there."
"Stop! Just fucking stop right now." John clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms. "This is not some bloody pissing contest. I called you here to tell you to stay the hell away. My child, my friends, my rules. I am not going to keep my child away from his uncle, that's not in me but no mind games or power play. I don't need you Mycroft and I hope to God that I won't sink so low that I ever will."
Sarah put a hand on John's shoulder and spoke softly, "Sorry John."
"Yes, I do apologize; I did not come here to upset you." John might never believe it but he was one of the few, very few people Mycroft actually did care about. He took a deep breath, Mycroft had promised Sherlock to look out for John while he was gone and Mycroft intended to do just that. It would be counterproductive if his involvement made things worse for the man though.
"If you wish it I will stay away. I promise I will not meddle in this. I am only a call away if you should need anything though. Sherlock left everything to you so you shouldn't have any worries there. Don't be too proud to use what my brother left you, if not for yourself then for the child."
John only nodded shortly, he had not touched that money and he wouldn't. He would set up a trust for his child instead.
Sarah bent down and whispered in John's ear, "I hate to bring it up and admit it but there is one thing we might need his help with. I'm not a surgeon so..." she met his eyes and grimaced meaningfully.
John's face twisted into an answering grimace but he knew Sarah was right. They would need help delivering the baby. With the placement of his uterus and his other organs it would be a slightly tricky surgery and John fancied actually surviving it along with his child.
"I have exceptional hearing, do not worry, you don't have to fall low enough to ask for my help. You have it anyway. I have a few surgeons on retainer and none of them will speak a word. Why don't I sent Dr. Sawyer here a list and the two of you can decide together which one you feel most comfortable with?"
"I...Thank you. Yes, that would be...good." John nodded again.
"Yes, thank you," Sarah studied Mycroft with a slightly softer edge before shaking her head, "You are weird man," it wasn't hostile or irritated or in any way insulting, mostly baffled.
"I prefer multifaceted but I suppose weird works." Mycroft got up from his seat, knowing that John's good will would only stretch so far and it was best to quit while you were ahead. "The list of surgeons will be sent to you shortly so you have ample time to decide. If you should require anything then don't hesitate to call...and John, do take care of yourself and the little one. I will see myself out." He nodded to the both of them and left.
Sarah pursed her lips, "That man needs serious socialization training. I'm starting to wonder about the Holmes parents, I really am."
"Yeah, you're not the only one." John's tense shoulders slowly relaxed again. "There must be some reason for such serious awkwardness besides from massive brains."
"No kidding but at least he's not going to be a hulking figure hovering over everything oppressively." She stretched her ankles, "Hungry?"
John thought about it. "Yeah, I could eat." It felt like a huge relief to have had it out with Mycroft, he wasn't naive enough to think that the man wouldn't meddle a little, at least keep tabs on his every move but he wouldn't set out to take John's baby and that was what he'd been most scared about.
She smiled, "Should I cook or do you want to go out?"
"Let's go out...While I still can pull off the slightly chubby belly excuse. Besides you do enough for me as is." John smiled back at her, reaching up to squeeze her hand.
She squeezed back, "Not really but I don't mind the praise. Come on then Dr. False Beer Belly, I'm thinking some schnitzel would go over nicely." Pulling him to his feet with a cheerful smile, she headed for her coat, slipping it on.
"Schnitzel it is then." John walked down the stairs, happy to see that his jacket was on the hook where Greg said he'd left it. It was a good jacket and one he could still button around his slightly protruding gut.
She kissed his cheek, "Great. I know an excellent German place not too far from here. You'll hit your knees and praise God when you taste the food. It's that good." She bounced out the door then hooked her arm through his when he followed, suddenly relief over a lack of disaster making her almost giddy. Maybe Mycroft Holmes would be an asset rather than the worry she'd been concerned about.
To be continued…