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.
AN: Ooops, well color me embarrassed. As several of you brilliant people noticed I posted chapter 4 of the wrong story. Here is the right one. Bows in apology. Please enjoy the proper chapter.
Chapter Four.
Greg peeled his jacket off and checked the hall, humming at Mycroft's closed study door before he headed for the library. He sat down at the desk in the book lined room and pulled out paper and pen before starting what had become a bi-weekly habit. Writing a letter to his children. He wasn't allowed to see them, his ex-wife's lawyer having been ruthless and cut-throat and the judge having been one of Sherlock's nay-sayers. He wasn't allowed to see his kids or contact them in any way but he hoped that one day, when they came looking for him to spew bitterness and hatred over him for never being there, he could give them the letters and let them know he'd never stopped loving them, never stopped missing them, and would have been there if he could have been.
It was the only thing he truly hated his ex-wife and something that still stung along with the blame he shouldered in Sherlock's death. As he wrote he thought of John's situation, remembering how Sherlock had been around children. As much as the man had claimed to be a sociopath, he'd liked kids and certainly been kinder to them than he'd been to the rest of the world. He remembered one time, when Sherlock had come to his house, when his second had been around three months old and suffering from colic and Cynthia had gone to her mother's house with their first son just to get away from the screaming that none of the medicine or old wives remedies had helped to soothe. Sherlock had just come by, never given a reason for it in all the time since, while Greg had been walking the floor with little Rick, singing softly in an attempt to coax him to sleep, and the next thing Greg had known was that Sherlock was the one pacing with the infant and rattling off endless facts about babies and colic in that rumbling voice.
He'd watched in vague, exhausted shock as the man who barely managed to maintain patience enough to tell him what he needed to know about a crime scene had simply waited out the crying with him then kicked him out of the nursery and ordered him to get some sleep. When he'd woken his infant son had been cooing between short bouts of crying, laying comfortably on Sherlock's chest, an expensive D&G shirt with the shoulder crusted with baby spit up. It had been a wonder and was one of Greg's favorite memories of Sherlock. He didn't even notice that he'd begun crying during the reminiscing.
Mycroft hesitated in the doorway to the library once he saw that his lover was crying. He knew how much the other man missed his children and if he could he would pin anything, anything at all on Greg's shrew of an ex-wife to give Greg the children but he knew Greg would never forgive him if he did something like that so no matter how much he hated it he would have to let Greg handle this on his own.
He didn't handle emotions well, didn't know anything about how to be comforting but he couldn't just walk away when Greg was crying, maybe something had happened. Mycroft crossed the floor on silent feet and knelt next to the chair where Greg was sitting, wiping the tears from his cheeks with soft fingers.
Greg jolted a bit, surprised, but then he leaned into Mycroft's touch, one hand lifting to wrap his own fingers loosely around his wrist, just for the touch, "Sorry. Memories."
"Nothing at all to apologize for, just wanted to check that everything was alright." Mycroft stayed where he was, his hands still cupping Greg's face tenderly.
Greg's lips quirked in an ironic smile, "I was...my kids loved Sherlock and he was so good with them. I was remembering the first time he really interacted with one of them." He closed his eyes and shook his head, "He let Rick sick up on his dark blue fancy shirt and didn't even complain. He'd have been an excellent father and it's just not right that he'll never know his kid."
Mycroft had to forcibly bite his tongue then to keep himself from blurting out Sherlock's secrets just to chase away that horrible sadness from Greg's eyes. "With John's permission we'll just have to be there to tell him or her about their father then, it's not right and it is not fair but it is the best we can do."
"I know," he squeezed Mycroft's wrist, "It's stupid but it just hit me hard today. John's not exactly happy with me and I don't blame him. I should have been able to do something more."
"John is unhappy with the world; he lost the man he loved. We all could have done something more, even John and certainly Sherlock himself." Mycroft turned Greg's face a little so that he could look into his eyes. "Don't do that; don't take on guilt that is not yours to carry. That was a terrible situation all around but it only was Moriarty's fault, we all got played."
"Moriarty's and Sally's you mean. If she'd never made those stupid accusations and fucked the Superintendent into following through on her conjecture report, Sherlock would still be at crime scenes pointing out where, when, how, and how many times she'd helped Anderson cheat on his wife most recently." He sighed, "Some days it seems like she poked her nose into my unit just to try and prove Sherlock wrong."
Mycroft's eyes narrowed as his mind started to work at alarming speed. "It does seem that way now doesn't it? And it was extraordinarily convenient that she was always there to start question my brother's motivations..."
Greg studied Mycroft carefully, "I said something that triggered one of your Holmesian brain leaps didn't I?"
"It's so simple; too simple...That's why it is brilliant. Oh but he was clever, so very clever." Mycroft rose from his kneeling position to pace the library, texting Anthea with nimble fingers, ordering a more thorough background check on Sally Donovan, all the way back to when she was born. "I'm sorry Greg but it looks like you might have to suffer her in her unit for a little while longer."
Never let it be said that Lestrade hadn't learned how to follow a Holmes' mind on some things, "You think she was working with him, that she is and always has been part of his organization." His jaw flexed and a fist clenched as anger rose and was banked. "Keep your friends close and your enemies' closer right?"
"Exactly so." Mycroft nodded, still pacing. He had to get this information to Sherlock as well, Sally was dangerous, even if she believed that Sherlock was dead for real, she also knew about John's condition. There was no telling just how close she had been to Jim Moriarty himself or what kind of orders she had been left. He looked up and caught Greg's eyes. "Can you be in the same room with her without pulling a John on her? I need to know if you can, knowing what she might have done."
Greg nodded, "Oh yes I can do it. I've worked undercover on trigger cases before, I can keep from wringing her neck and make her think I'm mostly the same soft, easily trod on Greg as she likes to believe." His own mind was working now as well, along a similar path to Mycroft's, the main goal being to ensure John and the baby's safety. John would be have his gun but be locking it up, he'd need something to buy him time if someone tried to surprise attack him. At least some sort of warning, preferably something that could detain the threat. He looked at the photo of his kids that he kept on the desk; they were clustered around a litter of puppies bred by an old friend of his.
"The last thing you are is soft or easy to tread on, if she thinks so then she isn't half as clever as I give her credit for. Still it could work to our advantage if she doesn't conceive you as a real threat." Mycroft put his phone away as he had finished texting Anthea. "We could be wrong of course and that she's just a vindictive bitch but I don't think so, it is all too neat."
He got up and walked over to brush his lips over Mycroft's, "We're not wrong. Her evals alone should have had her back as a constable even with fucking the higher ups. Even if she's not part of Moriarty's men, she's got all the makings of a dirty cop. Ambition, narrow mindedness, bigotry, and very loose morals."
Mycroft nodded and leaned in against Greg, still trying to plan ahead and think of ways he could get Donovan to slip up and reveal her game. "We'll get her; I don't like failing and I don't like loose ends left behind, especially not such unpleasant one as Sally Donovan."
He looped his arm around Mycroft's waist, "We'll tie her up." He pulled his own phone out and sent off a text to that old friend, "And if she manages, by some unholy magic, to get past the safeguards I know you've already gotten set up and get near John, I've got an idea about how to slow her down long enough for John to take her out at the very least."
"Good man. Together we'll take her down." It felt nice, actually more than nice to not have to fight alone for once. To have someone to lean on and who knew just what it took.
Greg kissed him again then nuzzled his jaw, "Yes and I am going to treasure the look on her face when she learns just how well we played her into fucking up."
"My fierce warrior." Mycroft was beyond pretending that what he and Greg had together was only casual. Greg mattered and Mycroft wanted to be sure that Greg knew it.
He easily read behind the simple three words and gave Mycroft a smile, "All yours, and always will be." Mycroft was in his blood, heart, mind, and soul it seemed and he wasn't intending to try kicking him out.
Mycroft hummed softly and leaned his forehead against Greg's, tightening his grip on the other's waist. "Not much we can do about the Sally situation tonight though, come to bed with me."
"You don't have to ask twice," Greg reached out to pull the switch on the desk lamp and tugged Mycroft with him toward the bedroom.
oOo
Sarah tapped one finger on a name on the list, "I'm leaning heavily toward Dr. Weisz."
John read Dr. Weisz credentials again, nodding slowly. "He has worked with a difficult births before, has had a long working life. Plus he's ex military, can't go wrong there."
"Not to mention from the number of redacted clients, I'd call him discreet as a cabbie in the middle of a traffic jam."
"Ugh, don't talk about cabbies with me but yeah, you are right. Shouldn't be surprised though, no matter what he's like, Mycroft knows discretion and skill."
She pat him on the arm, "So, we're calling Dr. Weisz?"
"Yes, we are calling Dr. Weisz. If he doesn't freak out too much at the thought of delivering a baby from a man I think he's our guy." John gave her a smile.
"Appointment or over the phone to break that news?"
"I think a real physical appointment is the way to break this news." He petted his belly. "Also being there will allow me to really see his reaction, it is easy to hide behind a phone."
"Alright then," she picked up her phone, dialing the number provided and handing it off to John.
"Dr. Bradley Weisz, who is calling?" It was a pleasant tenor voice.
"Hello, this is Dr. John Watson, I got your number from an acquaintance and since you are known for helping with tricky pregnancies I would like to set up an appointment as soon as you have the time."
"May I inquire as to the acquaintance?"
"Mycroft Holmes." Mycroft hadn't said anything about not being allowed to use his name and since he was in all sense and purposes this doc's boss, John used it happily.
"Ah, a matter of discretion then. I have an opening for an appointment next week, Wednesday at nine am. Is that agreeable?"
"That will be just fine, thank you for agreeing to meet us." John meant it too, he hoped Dr. Weisz wouldn't freak, he was clearly the best they could get and John wanted the best.
"Anyone who is given my private number, especially by Mycroft Holmes, is someone I'm more than willing to meet with. Young Mycroft does have a talent for steering the most challenging and charming patients in my direction."
"I don't really know if we're talking about the same Mycroft Holmes here but I'm still grateful for your agreement to meet us. See you Wednesday then." John shook his head, both at the young Mycroft comment and the charming patients one. Including himself, John couldn't see that any of Mycroft's acquaintances could be very charming.
"Wednesday?" Sarah already had John's file open and was marking down in it.
"Yes, Wednesday at nine am." John nodded, amused at Sarah's efficiency. He honestly didn't know what he would do without her and he didn't want to find out.
"Alrighty then. It should be interesting to see his reaction. I hope he'll be open-minded," she pat his knee.
"I hope so too, he's had a very long and successful career in medicine so he should have seen most things. Still there is never a way to tell what will be the thing to push someone over the edge of what they can handle. I just hope it won't be me." John reached up and rubbed the back of his neck in a slight nervous gesture.
"I don't see how it could if he deals with Mycroft Holmes regularly," she ruffled her fingers through his hair, "All kidding aside, I have a good feeling about Dr. Weisz."
"I do too actually, he sounded very nice on the phone but I'll save the final judgement until I meet the man." He reached up and smoothed down his hair after his friend's ruffling.
She nodded and began making a copy of John's file for the appointment. If Weisz had a good initial reaction it might help him wrap his head around the whole medical situation.
oOo
"He works out of his home." Sarah eyed the full clinic annexed from what could only be called a mansion on an estate. Doctor were generally well paid but this went far, far beyond well paid. "The man has a private clinic attached to his house...talk about keeping appointments private."
"It also allows me to keep the patients I see off CCTV camera coming and going out. As fond as I am of young Mycroft I fear he is terminally nosy."
The tenor voice came from just to their right and Sarah turned her head to study Dr. Bradley J. Weisz. An older man, looking an extremely fit sixty something and reminding her somewhat of Anthony Hopkins, wearing a blue turtleneck, simple black slacks, and a kind smile that belied the sharp observation and cleverness behind spaniel brown eyes.
John didn't startle but it was close thing as he whipped his head around to look at the good doctor. When he saw the older man he relaxed slightly, he got the feeling it would take a whole lot more that a pregnant man to get this man to freak out. Especially since he interacted with Mycroft on a regular basis. "I think nosy is putting it lightly when it comes to Mycroft Holmes. I'm Dr. John Watson and this," He gestured to Sarah. "Is Dr. Sarah Sawyer."
Weisz came forward offering his hand to them both, "Pleasure to meet you both. I must say that after your call last week Dr. Watson, that I Googled you. It was a familiar sounding name you see though not familiar for the reason I can already see you're thinking." After shaking their hands he simply stood, with all the manner of a man who looked able to stay in one spot in the middle of a hurricane. "I've often spoken with Violet regarding her sons over the years, especially Sherlock. It is very hard to forget the first difficult birth one attends to."
"You delivered Sherlock?" John's eyes widened. "I had no idea...Of course he was a difficult birth, bloody stubborn git already in the womb." His smile was tinged with sadness. It seemed fitting though, that the doctor who'd delivered Sherlock also delivered his child.
"Yes indeed though if he'd been a bit less stubborn he might not have been at all," it was said with a nostalgic tone, "Breech birth, a necessary emergency C-section to prevent deadly hemorrhaging for Violet, and a choking nuchal cord. There was a great deal of worry that he'd sustained brain damage from the lack of oxygen. Clearly that worry was resolved. Violet spoke quite a bit about her 'trouble' child and his miracle, her personal pet name for you Dr. Watson."
John had no idea how to respond to that, he'd never met Sherlock's mother, he knew Sherlock spoke to her at times but he rarely spoke about her. Well now the woman had probably taken that pet name back, a miracle was the last thing John was, he'd allowed her son to be pushed so far that he saw a step off the roof of St. Barts as his only solution. No nothing even slightly miraculous about that.
Sarah reached over and squeezed his arm, "Dr. Weisz if we could-"
"Ah yes, of course. In we go," he waved them ahead into the clinic, "As this is a consultation appointment I gave my admin/nurse/general sanity manager, Janice Majors, the day off." He led them back into a warmly decorated office with comfortable, supportive chairs, "Please have a seat. Would either of you like some tea? I have an excellent Ginger-chamomile blend."
Accepting the offer of tea, John sat down in one of the very comfortable chairs, Sarah in the chair next to him. "We are here to consult with you about a rather delicate pregnancy Dr. Weisz. I'm hoping you would agree to at least look into the case and offer us your advice." John found it a bit difficult to actually get the words out, maybe he should just lift up his jumper and shove his belly in the poor man's face.
The older man brewed the tea in silence, humming at John's words, then carried a tray with the pot, cups, and some chocolate biscuits to the table in front of the chairs. "An unusual pregnancy then?"
"Very," Sarah answered for John, "You might even call it extremely unusual." She took the cup the doctor handed her, "Somewhat a result of a previously unknown medical condition."
Dr. Weisz sat in his own chair after handing John a cup of tea, "The medical condition?"
"Chimerism." John was happy that his hands weren't shaking as he took the delicate china teacup from the other doctor. He took a sip and was very pleasantly surprised by the taste. Oh he had to ask Dr. Weisz where he got this; it didn't taste at all like the tea he forced down at home these days.
Understanding lit the gentle brown eyes, "Ah. Yes that would be a bit unusual." He watched John for a moment, "Would I be correct in assuming the child is Sherlock's?"
"That would be correct yes." John nodded and took another sip of tea, relieved now that it was out in the open. "Of course neither of us knew about my...chimerism at the time. I've just entered my second trimester. So far the baby's fine and my body seems to be able to handle the strain but as you can understand, every day is a worry. For the delivery I will need someone who knows what they are doing. That's why I'm coming to you."
Sarah took out the copy of John's file that she'd made, "I've been looking after John since the discovery five weeks ago and with the help of a friend we've been able to have MRI scans added in with the weekly ultrasounds." She slid printouts of the most recent ultrasound and MRI scan from the file and handed them to Dr. Weisz.
He studied the images, making doctor hums and little nods, "I see that natural birth would be possible but highly dangerous and not something I'd recommend. The uterus being behind the intestines is what makes it such a dangerous surgical prospect as well. You'll have to be put on bed rest near the end, preferably at the beginning of the third trimester."
"I know, it is something I'm prepared for though I know it is going to be hard." John was an active person, always had been and being on bedrest was going to be a challenge but he was willing to anything to ensure the safety of his and Sherlock's child. "Another issue is that I won't be able to get around the city freely for much longer. I am trying my best to keep this under wraps, not wanting to be a British media wonder."
"Yes, considering the rather disgusting actions of the media that is both understandable and for the best." He noted the way Dr. Sawyer held the remainder of the medical file, like a mother wolf protecting a cub, and approved. Patient confidentiality was sacred, or at least it should have been. Far too many doctors didn't think that way however.
"Will you accept John as a patient?" Sarah asked.
"Dr. Sawyer, I would fight any other doctor for the privilege of delivering Sherlock's son or daughter. The Holmes family is part of what I consider to be my family and that includes John," he looked at the other man, "If I may call you John?"
"Of course." John nodded. Dr. Weisz really was the best and John was so happy and relieved to have him as a doctor but he felt it was a little under false pretenses. He was not part of the Holmes family, hadn't met anyone other than Sherlock and Mycroft and he wasn't exactly on good terms with the latter. Somehow he felt he would end up somehow disappointing the older doctor. "Thank you so much for taking me on. Sarah is my main physician and she'll be with me on any consultations when possible, I hope that will be okay."
"Of course. You hardly know me and you need all the people you know you can trust around you right now." Dr. Weisz gave John a smile, "In your shoes I certainly wouldn't want to be alone with a strange doctor poking at me."
"Well, better a doctor than just a random stranger I suppose." John gave a slightly nervous giggle and immediately wanted to kick himself, he was a doctor and a captain in the bloody army and he makes inappropriate jokes and giggles at them...Wonderful. "I'm sorry, really truly sorry. Feel free to poke as much as you need to."
Sarah snorted then began to giggle herself as Dr. Weisz chuckled warmly.
"No need to apologize young man, laughter eases stress after all, which I'd say you've been under a tremendous amount of. Now shall we get down to brass tacks about consultation scheduling?"
"Yes let's do that and thank you for not changing your mind on taking me on as a patient." John gave a chagrined smile and focused on the task at hand. "I work at Sarah's local clinic but I won't be able to do that for much longer. As far as I am concerned, I can come at any time fitting to you."
"Once a week, preferably, continuing Wednesdays I do believe," he pulled out a Blackberry and brought us his schedule, nodding, "Yes, every Wednesday at nine if that works for the both of you?" He looked at Dr. Sawyer.
She nodded, "Yes."
"And of course if at any time you feel there's a problem or something you need to discuss then you are more than welcome to come by."
"Thank you." John took out a folded piece of paper with his e-mail address and phone numbers on. "I know most of my contact information is in my folder but still if you ever need to reach me these are the quickest ways, especially in a few months when I'll be on bedrest."
Dr. Weisz accepted the paper, "Thank you." He programmed John's numbers into his phone quickly then settled in with his tea before proposing that the three of them sit and talk, getting to know each other and going over what symptoms John was experiencing as well so they could start a smooth working relationship for the pregnancy.
Sarah grinned and passed the folder over to the older man's side of the table, explaining how she'd kept it secret from Mycroft and surprising a laugh out of him. She was relieved to see her instincts about this man had been correct. This would make John's pregnancy go much smoother.
oOo
Greg paused outside 221 and breathed in just a hair nervously. He hoped that John would receive his present well, especially after he'd already spoken to Sarah and Mrs. Hudson about the surprise he had with him. It had been a month since he'd contacted his friend out in Derbyshire about this and that month had been needed to polish the present up so to speak. He knocked softly and smiled when Mrs. Hudson opened the door with a beaming smile.
"Go right on up dear, he's been busy fussing around the flat today, nesting," she sparkled at the DI and the surprise he'd brought with him. That would do John a world of good, a companion to warm up the flat a bit.
John had just finished dusting of the flat and arranged and rearranged the pillows and throw he had on the couch. The larger he got, the more comfortable the couch was compared to his beloved chair. He had bitten the bullet and switched bedrooms, turning Sherlock's bedroom into his, his and eventually the baby's. It wasn't smart to keep lugging up and down the stairs to go to bed or the bathroom when there was a perfectly good bedroom downstairs. It had been really rough the first few nights but he was slowly getting used to sleeping in Sherlock's bedroom without him there.
He straightened at the soft knock on his door frame and his eyes widened at the sight of Greg and especially at what was with Greg. "You've gotten a dog?"
Greg cleared his throat, "Actually, he's for you."
John blinked and blinked again. "What?" He looked from the DI to the pitch black dog at his side, tail wagging happily and tongue lolling out, a perfect picture of friendliness. "What are you on about?" John couldn't help but to get down on his knees though, rather awkwardly and ungracefully to pet the dog though.
The labrador made a happy noise and licked John's hand, tail going a mile a minute and making Greg smile. "Can we talk inside the flat? It's to do with why I've gotten you a dog and a few other things, all a bit linked."
Looking up from the dog, John took in Greg's expression and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Just give me a minute to get up off the floor." John scrambled back onto his feet even more ungracefully than he'd gotten down there. He was only four months along but he already felt as large as a house and about as limber as a house as well. "Come on in? Coffee? Tea?"
"Something cold would be nice actually. London's heat wave is still hell for us poor bastards living here all our lives." Greg came in, the dog already following John faithfully. "I've got bowls, food, a dog bed and crate, and all the other bits that come with him in my car so you don't have to get any of it."
"Yeah..." The word was drawn out. "Still don't have a clue why you've brought me a dog." One hand went down to rub at a velvety soft ear as he walked to the kitchen to pour both Greg and himself some lemonade that Mrs. Hudson had brought up earlier. "Here you are, please sit down." He handed Greg the glass and walked toward the couch, rubbing his aching hip a little as he sat down.
"Cheers," Greg sat down and took a pull from the glass, "Oh God that's good." He scratched his cheek, "The dog is first of all an extra bit of protection. Something that will buy you a little more time to get to your gun if anyone comes after you. Day I took your statement, after I got home and did a couple of other things you wouldn't be interested in, what happened to Sherlock came up in conversation with...er...you know I'm half worried you're going to clock me before I finish."
"Nah, I've just sat down and getting up just to punch you seems like too much of an effort right now." John sent Greg a look. "Not making any promises about not clocking you before you leave though, especially if you don't get to the point soon. You can't mention what happened to Sherlock and not finish. That's not good." Without thinking about it, John continued to pet the dog who was sitting right next to him.
"Okay, well then I'll just come out and say it, I'm sleeping with Mycroft," if he'd said that before Sherlock had swan dived off of St. Bart's roof the choking noise John made and the look on his face would have had him laughing. As it was he was more resigned to getting a split lip, maybe a broken nose, "Sleeping and half living with him actually. So it was him I was talking to and I made a complaint about how Donovan's report had been a big part of pushing Sherlock up onto the roof and how sometimes it seemed like she'd joined my unit just to get at Sherlock then Mycroft got that look," there was a wealth of meaning in that one word, "The one that meant he'd just put something together, some little clue had fallen into place and now he could see the big picture clearly."
"Sorry, still gagging slightly at the thought of you and Mycroft Holmes doing the dirty." John wrinkled his nose. "So, if I am getting this right, you and Mycroft talked and figured out that Sally Donovan actually did join your unit to get at Sherlock, waited just like the spider she worked for, for the opportune moment to set things into motion." John's voice grew colder with each word he spoke. "You should have let me kill her. Still...why the need for extra protection? Sherlock is dead; I'm very much out of the crime solving circuit. Why would she come after me?"
"Because she still hates him and you're carrying part of him," Greg watched the dog whine a bit and gently nuzzle John, "And more, I know you haven't bothered looking at the blog or anything but there's a movement going, one that's spreading and questioning and professing their belief in Sherlock. Someone recently found proof that the stories on Richard Brook were fabricated and every time something new is found or she sees graffiti sprayed in yellow paint on a wall that says 'I believe in Sherlock Holmes' or 'Moriarty was real' she gets a look on her face that sends chills through me."
John was quiet, thinking about what Greg had said. The hand not petting the dog went to his belly. No way he was going to let that crazy bitch hurt his child, it was not on. "If any movement is going on it is because they are right. Moriarty was very much real. You're taking a risk telling me this, what makes you think that I won't just go find Donovan and put a bullet in her head?"
Greg nodded at the hand John had on the swell of his stomach, "Your child. Right now it'd be too much of a risk for you to go after her. You can't move as fast or blend in as well as you usually do and you know it. And yeah I know I might be wrong and you'll do it anyway but you deserved to know and to have fair warning."
John heaved a great sigh, sinking back into the cushions of the couch. "No, you're right. As much as I want to and I really, really want to, I am not going risk my child. Not even for the pleasure of killing Sally Donovan with my bare hands. Thank you for telling me...And for the dog." John had already fallen for the black lab, damned his hormones and his soft heart. "What's his name?"
"Sentinel," Greg took another drink of lemonade, "Part of the bits and bobs that I'll be bringing up is a list of all the commands and things he's trained for but one of the biggest ones aside from the protection aspect is retrieval. Set up the fridge right and he can open it and bring you something to drink along with the towel to wipe it clean."
"That's...pretty amazing. You are a clever boy, aren't you Sen? A very, very clever boy." Despite the absolute hatred and sense of being powerless when it came to Donovan he couldn't help but smile at the dog. "Thank you Greg, really. You are of course aware that I will spoil him rotten and ruin him for all others."
"Well that's also the point," Lestrade grinned as the dog wiggled happily at John's attention, "Sarah agreed to walk him twice a day after you go on bed rest though so you might want to make sure not to spoil him past her point of endurance. I had Jack add in a baby training course to what Sen was already learning so he'd be used to baby cries and all the madness that goes on round infants."
"Clever indeed." John chuckled as Sen licked his hand vigorously. "Really this is a gift that I don't have any idea how to repay or even what to say. I guess I'll have to settle for not clocking you...Sleeping with Mycroft must be punishment enough." John sent Greg a grin, he was so sick and tired of being bitter and spiteful. In not too long he would be a parent and he wanted his child to learn forgiveness, perhaps he had to start with himself there.
"Funny," Greg rolled his eyes but the grin stayed on his face, "So how are things going in there?" he pointed at the belly, "You're close to seventeen weeks now right, felt movement yet?"
John lit up. "Yeah, I have. It's really difficult to explain, it's a fluttery, bubbly feeling. Almost like having a carbonated soda going crazy inside you. Baby's an insomniac, uses the nights for workouts, just like daddy." He smoothed his hand over his stomach.
He chuckled, "Probably be just as stubborn too...no worse. The little nipper's got a double dose of the stubborn gene, from Sherlock and from you."
"Me stubborn? You sir, must have gotten me confused with someone else. I am as fluid and easy going as they come." John did his very best to look wide eyed and innocent.
Greg burst out into full blown gut-busting laughter, "Oh God. I can't believe you managed to spout that shite with a straight face. You're easy-going alright, and stubborn as a bloody mule."
John chuckled throatily. "I still say that I have no idea what you're talking about. If I am stubborn at all it is because I've been around people in which stubbornness is the only way to get through." He gave Greg a pointed look. It felt nice to be able to laugh with Greg again. John didn't think they could ever go back to how things were but perhaps they could move forward, he would like that.
Greg settled down into chuckles, "Yeah well consider the people I have to deal with myself. Developing a stubborn streak was the only means of defense." He relaxed; glad to have John off the defensive around him again. "You catch the match last weekend?"
"I did yes; did you see that referee though? I swear I wanted to reach through the screen and clock him. He couldn't have been more partial if he'd worn the other team's colors." John scoffed and took a swig of his lemonade.
"I think I set new records in creative cursing and had to restrain myself from throwing my drink at the wall. He probably was wearing the other team's colors, Team Twat pants." He'd been so loud it had drawn a very amused Mycroft out of his office to offer to have the referee transferred to Siberia.
John chuckled and leaned further back in the couch as Sentinel settled down on his feet, tail still thumping lazily. This was nice, he stayed quiet for a while, thinking about what he was about to say. "Well why don't you come here next match? We can yell at the telly together."
"I'd like that, I'll bring the crisps and dip." Outwardly Greg kept his cool but on the inside he was whooping and hollering, feeling like he'd just succeeded in battling a dragon with his bare hands. "I'd bring biscuits too but mine don't compare to Mrs. Hudson's."
John gave him a wry look. "She's my landlady dear, not my housekeeper." They both knew that if Greg would be coming over for a match then there would be biscuits along with all sort of treats. Mrs. Hudson just couldn't help herself and she'd gotten even worse since she found out that John was pregnant, spoiling him rotten.
He chuckled, "Bollocks, she's neither. She's Mum for all of us who pass welcomed through 221." Greg did mean that, in every way. He loved his own mother but she was more of the hippie, free-spirit, let-no-man-hold-me-down type.
"True, that she is." John nodded with a fond smile. He'd lost his own mother a long time ago, even before she really passed away so having Mrs. Hudson was a blessing. There was nothing that John wouldn't do for her.
"A very tough, wonderful lady." Greg lifted his lemonade in the direction of 221a in salute.
"Hear, hear." John agreed and lifted his own glass, chuckling as it set off Sen's tail again. He already felt at home having the dog there with him.
Greg just smiled and settled in to finish his lemonade before he had to go down to get the dog's things, talking easily with John and pleased that Sentinel had gone over well.
To be continued…