"Have you seen my brother, Lestrade?" Sherlock swept into the latest crime scene, all coat tails and cheekbones, barely even greeting the Detective Inspector as he spoke.
Mycroft had been avoiding Sherlock's calls for the past 3 weeks, ever since the consulting detective had stormed into his room at the Diogenes and thrown 14 small 'covert' cameras across the table, each removed from various locations in his flat. He reckoned that Mycroft must have had almost 100% coverage of the flat from the camera angles, and the resulting argument between the two brothers had been prolonged and heated.
It had continued for a further 18 hours, by text mostly, until Sherlock had said something he probably shouldn't have said to Mycroft and the latter had not responded. At all.
That was 19 days, 17 hours ago (not that Sherlock was counting) and, while there had been no direct contact between the two men, Sherlock knew that his brother was still keeping tabs on him and his whereabouts (he really ought to hire better-trained spies to tail and watch someone like Sherlock Holmes!).
Greg took a while to process the question as Sherlock breezed past him, not even stopping to address him personally.
He had seen Mycroft. In fact, he had seen altogether too much of the man. He had been sticking his nose into every case that Sherlock had taken in the last 3 weeks, and it was driving Greg crazy.
He was under strict instructions not to tell Sherlock about it though, and as that thought ran through his head, he noticed Sherlock looking at him, his face tilted and questioning.
Oh shit , Greg thought. He's deducing me.
"I thought as much." Sherlock finally said, returning to the body in the middle of the floor.
"Next time you see him, Detective Inspector," Sherlock began, placing deliberate emphasis on Greg's title, "Do tell him to stay OUT of my life."