Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry about my grammar issues last time… I'll make sure it doesn't happen with this chapter or any others, for that matter. Sorry… But do enjoy, for those who've kept reading to now.

Seventeen: The Voice Of The Lost

"Sorry to interrupt boys," Mrs. Hudson had a huge blush coming on as she had walked in. "But I just had a question. Very brief and very… you might think it's stupid-" she tried.

"Just ask," Sherlock said, bored now that he wasn't on top of or under John. Newly -weds, eh?

Anyway, "Well, I was just wondering if you were going to have a honeymoon, at all," she asked, burning still as the pink never left her cheeks.

"Why would we? I hate mushy things and John doesn't much care," John smiled for emphasis. "Besides, I'm sure that with the habit of-"

Knowing what Sherlock was about to say, John interjected, "We're quite comfortable in our own bed, and another feels weird." He glared softly at Sherlock, "There is no need to go into our 'habits' Sherlock," he said, but his cheeks were rosy by the time he had finished explaining.

"Right, sorry. Anyway, John, when are you going to get milk?" she asked, knowing neither boy had thought about it lately.

"Actually, probably right now. I have other things I need as well, and I'm sure Sher-"

"No, I'm good. Taking Aveen?" he asked as he leaned into John's shoulder, his breath hot on John's neck and the blond shivered.

John shrugged and looked to her as Mrs. Hudson sighed in content at how utterly beautiful the scene in front of her was. She had always known there was something going on between those two. But Aveen shrugged as well.

The landlady left as John decided, "You know, why don't you just keep an eye on her? I'll go alone, I'm fine," he turned to Sherlock and watched as the curls lifted from his shoulder and those beautiful lips made contact with his cheek.

But that wasn't good enough, and Sherlock knew it wouldn't be as his face was still extremely close to John's. He closed the distance and placed a lingering kiss to his husband's lips. "Don't attract too much attention," Sherlock joked.

"I'm not that attractive, Sherlock," John said.

"You caught my attention," he contradicted.

"That's because we live together. I could have been just another bloke that was ignored because you were on a case," he reasoned.

Sherlock shrugged, "But you weren't ignored," the detective argued.

John just shrugged again and gave a lopsided smile, "I'm getting dressed and I'm going," he nodded, assuring himself that he was going to get up.

But when he did, he had a brunette attached to his backside. "You aren't just somebody else, John." But the realization that he could have been was painful. Of course he didn't say that, but it was so obvious that it was emanating from him that he thought about this too much. "That's John, always over thinking things," Sherlock thought aloud.

"You do realize you said that aloud?" as he stepped through the door to their bedroom. Sherlock shrugged, placing his lips against John's neck. "Sherlock, if you don't stop, I won't be going anywhere."

"Oh?" so he kept doing it. Trailing kisses up to John's jaw to his shoulder.

"Sherlock," John warned, but he kept going, adding teeth and tongue. John hated his determination for many things. He was stubborn when it came to what he wanted. But John needed to go. So instead of completely fighting Sherlock off, he slightly gave in.

As I said, slightly, as he had turned around and connected himself to Sherlock. Teeth to teeth, tongue to tongue and Sherlock was surprised by this, which was what John was going for. "I promise, tonight. But I need to go," he said to Sherlock's unspoken but obvious question.

"But tonight is so far away," he whined and John simply tapped him lightly on the arse.

"Shut up, Sherlock," and he was off to get dressed…

Lestrade had found the mess Sherlock had texted him about, and he had to say, it was interesting that all the Boys of Baker Street had to do was appear in front of a baddie, and they automatically die. Lestrade chuckled to himself as his men carried out the two bodies. But one (Maggie) was almost transparent.

Gregory was surprised that they could even touch here, let alone get her on the stretcher. She looked as though she was only an outline in the air. It was weird, as he could make out her features and everything, but it was like an almost invisible spider web. You had to look hard, or you wouldn't have seen a thing.

Maybe it was a poison or something. He'd have Molly try to work it out, and Sherlock would probably take it upon himself to figure it out as well. And then someone was mumbling something to him and he couldn't quite catch it. But when he turned to see who it was, they had disappeared.

He shook his head, and thought maybe he was hearing things. So he simply left with everyone else and he was soon settled back in his office, with things to do and very little time to do them in. And then there was that voice again. Right in his ear.

"Gregory," it was so low a whisper that he couldn't tell if it was male or female. But he jumped up from his chair with a squeal, and hoped no one had heard that. And then it was giggling. Oh God, what the hell was this?

But he sat down and calmed himself. At least the voice wasn't in his head, yet. He didn't know what it was about, but it was creepy. Okay, creepy was an understatement. It was completely horrifying to think something was 'haunting' him. Although, as he went back to work, he had forgotten its existence.

He simply worked in complete silence. He sighed at how boring this was. He wondered what Sherlock and John were doing. Oh God no, images he doesn't need. Why does it always get that way when he thinks of them as a couple? But his mind wandered even more to Mycroft…

And there laid his cell phone on his desk. He hadn't even said good morning to his lover. Lover… it sounds so foreign to Gregory. Well, that's because it was, but it was simply the fact that he had never thought he could have someone like a Holmes.

As in, he didn't imagine having someone so… perfect. And he was so painfully normal compared to Mycroft. Sure, in school and in uni he was considered a genius, but now? There were people stealing his spotlight. He didn't mind, he just wondered how he could have attracted the attention of someone so different.

An no, not 'opposites attract' different, just, he didn't know. Just different. But seeing as he already felt guilty for not talking to Mycroft and he couldn't stop thinking about him now, he plucked his phone from beside his mess of papers that he needed to one day settle into a neat pile or something.

But for now, he texted Mycroft. Morning, Love…- GL

That was it, and now he would patiently wait for a- ding. Holy shit, he was fast. Though, he was probably attached to his mobile, so what was one more text?

Gregory unlocked his phone and read the sweet and simple reply: Morning it is, but it is a very distracting morning, isn't it?- MH

How do you mean?- GL

You texted first, what do you think it means?- MH

Honestly, with you, I don't know…- GL

You should, seeing as you were the first to text. Though, I suppose you weren't the first to think about it.- MH

You were thinking about me?- GL He blushed simply at the thought that Mycroft was thinking about him.

I'm always thinking about everything. But you are among that list of everything, yes- MH

Of course Mycroft would come up with a double sided comment. You don't have to be all professional. Tell me what you're thinking about. You're talking to me, after all- GL

If I told you what I was really thinking, it would distract you from the obvious work you have to be getting on with- MH

You're already distracting- GL

Am I?- MH

Very- GL

Water…- MH

What about it, Love?- GL

It's pouring down your back- MH

We're going to play this game, are we? Well, then I'm pushing you to the wall...- GL

Sherlock sat with his hands steepled under his chin as John walked from the kitchen to him, "I'll be back," he sighed and gave Sherlock a kiss to his curls and was down the stairs as Sherlock decided that wasn't even close to good enough, and followed his husband down the stairs.

"Get back here," he growled playfully and pushed John to the door. John waited for the kiss to happen, but it didn't as Sherlock grinned down on his lover. John was on his toes as he kissed Sherlock very briefly.

That still wasn't good enough and Sherlock grabbed him by the waist, pulling him so close they were literally breathing each other's air. He smirked as their lips connected slowly and John couldn't help but to snake his arms around Sherlock's neck and tip his head so Sherlock could have easier access.

Sherlock smiled against John's lips and his tongue darted across them before John's mouth fell open for the man above him. Sherlock was satisfied as he dipped his tongue to John's and it was a perfect agreement in the extraordinary silence.

John pulled away, giving Sherlock's nose a kiss before winking and slipping out the door. Sherlock stood still, his head hanging as he realized what had just happened and he shook his head. He really needed to swallow his feelings sometimes. That was actually really hot and he was starting to sweat.

But then Sherlock got the best of ideas. "Aveen?!" he yelled as he ascended the stairs and she scuttled to the top of them, looking in question.

"It's my baby and I don't want someone else feeding him, I'm sorry," she explained as she rocked him lightly. Eve nodded, not hurt at all actually. She knew how mothers were about their children, and that was just it. It was Mary's child, not Eve's.

Although, Eve glanced at the fairly small diamond about her fiancé's finger and smugly said, "What's yours is mine. Especially when the last of the knots will be tied," Eve kissed her fingers and Mary blushed but retaliated.

"Not my breast milk, that's strictly mine and it's a bit weird if you want that," she giggled.

"Yeah, that is weird. But I don't want just your breasts or the milk, I want all of you. You are mine," and she kissed the fingers in her hand again as Mary was unfazed by her possessiveness.

Mary was the same way. Something's hers, it's hers. Which was why she had such a hard time accepting that John wasn't hers anymore. She still hated that, but what can she do now? He's long gone and probably enjoys Sherlock's ass more than her vagina. Just saying…

Besides, she has no room to be jealous or spiteful. She has, "Eve," and, "I love you," are the most true words she's spoken in years. Eve simply blushed, muttering the words back as Ivan was mouthing at Mary's shirt again.

Though, it was about time for that again, so Mary wasn't at all uncomfortable when she fed her precious baby and Eve just watched as Ivan invaded her land. She was jealous, but she also knew that once Ivan's teeth set in, it'd be painful. For everyone. "Do you think he'll be part of the other 2% that comes out human?" Eve asked.

"I don't care," Mary said simply. Eve shrugged then. She didn't think Mary would be so accepting either way. Eve has never had someone who agreed with her on almost every subject. Except for music, Mary hated the 'stupid' metal that Eve loved, and Eve despised the country that Mary hums constantly.

Then again, in Mary's voice, it does sound a lot better. And you know, even there, they agreed that dub step was ridiculous and that screaming wasn't singing. Eve smiled, "Have you noticed how much we agree on so much?"

Mary shrugged as Ivan was rocked slightly once more in her careful arms. Eve smiled as Mary returned it…

"Since when did we go to libraries?" Aveen asked.

"Are you complaining?" Sherlock said as he ushered her through the door.

"No, I just thought you didn't consult books," she admitted.

"Consult? You are so my child," he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you're right. I don't usually go to libraries for help. But the internet doesn't tell you all about the creatures of other intelligent races, now does it?" he was suddenly whispering and Aveen smirked.

"I can tell you all about my species," she whispered back. Sherlock nodded, betting she probably could. "By the way, Witches are bitches," Aveen rhymed and Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Aveen Marie Holmes- Watson, watch your mouth," he warned and she scowled at him muttering something about it being true, though. He ushered her up the stairs and past the kids books up to the more adult things.

Surely there'd be something like legends that people 'made up'. He had to find something. But where to start was the biggest problem, though. Then he figured he could start with ancient lore…

Gregory had had the voice stop teasing him for the rest of his work day. But when he twisted the key in his door, it was whispering to him again. "You're very interesting as a human," it giggled.

He ignored it as he ascended his stairs and closed the door to his smallish flat. "Oh, come on, don't you wanna play, Greg?" it teased.

"Shut the fuck up and bugger off," he waved his hands about as his coat slipped from his shoulders and he hung it. His toes helped slip his shoes off and Gregory shuffled to the kitchen where he made himself a cuppa.

And then he heard a familiar ding in his pocket, and pulling out his phone, he realized it was a text from Mycroft. Home, I assume?- MH

Gregory didn't question why or how Mycroft knew, he simply texted back. Yeah, why?- GL

And not seconds after, the mobile was vibrating in his hand. Oh, you sly bastard. He answered and sure enough it was, "Mycroft," Gregory sighed.

"Disappointed?" his lover asked.

"No," he yawned as he plucked his cup from under the fountain thingy on his coffee machine. "Tired," he admitted.

"I should let you sleep, then," it wasn't a question.

"I honestly don't think I can," he sat at his two person table and sighed.

"But you just said you were tired. And you yawned," Mycroft pointed out.

"Yes, well, without the British Government in my bed, I probably won't sleep," he complained.

"What if I came over, then?"

Gregory fell silent. But he eventually answered, "My flat is a mess, and I don't live like you do," he admitted.

"Why would that matter?" he asked, truly curious. "Look, Gregory," Greg, it's Greg. But anyway, "It doesn't matter to me. So why should it matter to you?"

"Because you're brilliant and always graceful as I am, myself a stupid slob," he reasoned.

"You aren't stupid Gregory. You just live around the Holmes too much to think otherwise," he pointed out. Greg huffed as the voice that had seemed to fall silent was at it again.

"Ooo! Is that your lover?" it giggled. Greg groaned and sunk his head into his arms and yet still had the phone to his ear.

"Gregory?" Mycroft asked. Greg… but Greg hummed in return, and the MI6 man asked, "Who was that?"

"Who was who?" he asked. Did Mycroft hear the voice, too?

"The one teasing you," he asked as the giggling hadn't stopped.

"Wait, you can hear it?" he perked up.

"Of course I can, who is it?" he asked, then realized what was going on. "I'm coming over and we're sleeping together," Mycroft promised.

"Don't you-?"

"Irrelevant," he explained and hung up as Greg stared at his phone in bewilderment. How could Mycroft hear a voice that Greg was imagining? Or was he imagining it? He didn't fucking know anymore. He had been so focused on so many other things.

So he just sat, drinking from a small cup and thinking about what Mycroft would think of the way he lives. He had been exaggerating when he said 'a mess'. It was more, rubbish spread everywhere and out of place than actually being a mess of food or something dirty like that.

It was mostly papers from when he brought work home. Oh, how he hated bringing work home. It was all worth it in the end, though. Then there was that annoyance of a voice, "You do know me by the way." Did he?

"Do I?" he gave up on trying to ignore the ignorant fuckery of a whisper.

"Oh yes, you saw me only half a day earlier," had he?

"I don't remember bumping into a cowardice whisper," he contradicted.

"Because I was shy. But I like you," it admitted.

"Shy? You're in my fucking head, I am not shy!" he couldn't figure this out.

"I'm not in your head, Gregory," it tried.

"Oh? Then why…?" he left it hanging as the voice took over.

"I am as real as any other human you have come across, and nonhuman, by the way." It giggled, "You know Sherlock Holmes? He is an interesting character. Especially with that pet of his. And their daughter. And then there's Mycroft. Mmm, he's tasty. I'm jealous," it admitted in its usual hushed manor.

"Nonhuman?" was all he could get out before he heard footsteps up the stairs and then Mycroft stepping through the door. He swung his umbrella once and closed the door behind himself. "Hello, Love," Greg greeted and Mycroft nodded, offering a tight smile.

And before Mycroft took another step, he brought out his mobile and texted someone briefly as Greg wondered who it could be. but he was texting, basically saying that he was unavailable at the moment and Greg loved the idea of being completely alone with…

No, apparently he wasn't completely alone. Bloody brilliant, isn't it?...

Find out anything you can on the subject of invisible creatures.-MH

Why should I?- SH

But there was no reply as Aveen was swinging her feet under the table and was sunk deep into a book about Greek Mythology. Sherlock didn't believe that those creatures were real, but he was reading more about Chinese lore and it was actually pretty weird, but interesting.

And he had completely given up on Japanese stories. They were too stupid to believe. But Aveen was soaking up that Greek crap. "Is it really that interesting? It's a bunch of petty gods and goddesses who think they're better than everyone. At least God loves his children," he snorted.

She looked up to him to show she hadn't even been listening to his question and he sighed in defeat. She simply turned the page and kept going. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but when they landed on the page she was reading he said, "Give me that," and took it from under her nose.

"Who the hell…?" and he looked at this God of Mischief. Loki, now that was interesting. Thor was a dunderhead, but Loki looked at least a little intimidating. And Sherlock had to admit, he was kind of attractive. Or maybe that was just the tricks he pulled on his brother.

"Boring, huh?" Aveen chuckled as she stole it back. Sherlock shrugged and looked to his own pages. He flipped through them, didn't he see something about creatures that were invisible and had a voice like a genderless whisper? Hmmmm…..

"Sherlock," Aveen warned and John came up the stairs to the table they were sitting at and he took a seat beside his husband. He twirled the ring on his finger as Aveen finally willingly looked up from the text and across the table to her father figures.

"Why are you here, Sherlock?" John asked and put his hand to Sherlock's knee.

"I texted you the details, John," he said as he wildly looked through the words that he had already seen.

"Thone were hardly details, Sherlock," John explained as his lover huffed, content. He finally found something!

"Look at this, John," he slid the book in between them and pointed to a few words at the top of the page. John looked to it and was about to ask, but was interrupted. "Mycroft said to find all I could on invisible things," as he pulled his mobile from his pocket.

He texted Mycroft that he found one that might be what he's (painfully obvious) looking for. And at the end he asked if he could know what was going on, as he was bored and needed a new case. Mycroft replied saying: Sleep first, maybe eat and then I may consider letting you in on this.- MH

Fine- SH and he left everything but his family as they struggled to keep up with his long legs. He slipped out the doors and already had a cab by the time John had caught up with him on the sidewalk. "Sherlock," he questioned, "what is going on?" as he was pushed into the cab and Aveen followed.

"I don't know, but I want to," and it irritates him. John nodded as he leaned over Sherlock's shoulder and breathed in his ear.

"Would you like a distraction?" he smirked and nipped at Sherlock's ear.

"Stop it, John," he shook his leg while his senses picked up John placing a hand to his knee. He sighed as he placed his own over it. "Later, you did promise," he grinned with a funny little thought coming through his mind.

"Okay," John agreed. Sherlock's grin faded to a straight line as his thoughts raced through so many possibilities in so little time. John loved that look in his eyes, it meant he was thinking and John thought Sherlock thinking was utterly sexy.

He didn't know why, it just was. So when they slipped out of the cab, he was already on his way to arousal and it really wasn't fun, seeing as he had to spend dinner with it until it finally faded completely when Aveen went to get a shower.

But then it creeped back as Sherlock whispered, "John," he teased. He slid his hand on John's thigh and up further as he continued, "You did promise," he reasoned.

"Later," he demanded. Sherlock huffed and it came out as more of a hot breath on John's neck. He shivered as Aveen walked back out and her hair was dripping wet.

She motioned for John to brush it like he always does, but Sherlock plucked her from the standing position she had held. He turned her hair to John as she handed him the brush and John started as he always did: with carefully gentle strokes. And Sherlock smiled into her lovely blue eyes as she was confused. Sherlock never gets involved with brushing her hair.

But when John was finished, Sherlock admired his work by petting her hair and tucking part of it behind her ear. He gave her a huge kiss to the forehead and whispered good night to her as she slipped off his lap. John followed her upstairs and tucked her in.

"Good night, dear," and he closed the door behind himself, finding Sherlock directly behind him. "Sherlock!" he whispered loudly.

"You promised…"

I do deeply apologize for the idiocy of my grammar last chapter. But, reviews?