Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine. Should be used to that by now but I am an eternal optimist.
A/N: Told you evilness was coming. Yes Sherlock knows what Greg is doing and no, he's not going to tell anyone. Sherlock can be extremely evil too. Let me know what you think.
Week Two: Monday
There were no voices this time. The beeping was still there but he'd become used to it and it hadn't been what woke him either. No, what woke him was the amount of inappropriate light streaming through the windows and falling across his face. Why hadn't anyone closed the curtains? How inconsiderate.
"I wanted to talk to you before the others come back, Lestrade. That's why the curtains are open," Sherlock's voice broke into his thoughts.
Greg stamped down his irritation. There were other ways of waking someone. "Good morning, Sherlock," Greg said instead and blinked his eyes open.
Sherlock's face loomed over him. "Are you awake enough now?" Sherlock asked blandly. "This is important."
Greg frowned his irritation at his brother-in-law. "You always think anything you have to say is important."
Sherlock smirked at him. "It is."
Greg grabbed the controls of the bed and pushed the button to make it rise up some so that he was sitting while he glared at Sherlock. "What's so important then?" He asked as he settled into the new position.
"What you're doing to Mycroft," Sherlock started.
"I'm not intentionally doing anything to him," Greg interrupted with a confused look. "I don't remember him being my husband. For all I know this could be some elaborate joke you thought up."
Greg's eyes widened when Sherlock threw his head back and laughed joyously. "Oh, that would have been excellent," Sherlock gasped out when he'd calmed down some. "Wonder why I never thought of it? Hmm, something to look into in the future."
"Sherlock," Greg growled warningly. "What are you on about?"
Sherlock shook his head. "You don't have amnesia, Lestrade." His tone of finality penetrated Greg's shock at his words. "I approve of you pretending too though. Mycroft is an idiot at times. He needs someone to keep him in line. He chose you for that job."
Greg swallowed and stared at the younger man. "How did you figure it out, Sher? I'd thought I was being so careful."
"I've known from the moment you started this," Sherlock boasted. "You were far to calm and accepting of being married to a man you didn't know to be doing anything other than pretending."
Greg swallowed hard again. "You're going to tell him, aren't you? He's your brother. Of course you're going to tell him that I'm faking."
"He won't tell," Artiebiba's voice broke into the conversation from the door. "Not if he knows what's good for him."
Both men stared in shock at the dark haired woman. "What?" Sherlock finally managed to ask.
"Mr. H. has been a jerk for months and he won't listen to me," she explained. "Greg's plan is a good one as long as we can keep Mr. H. off balance. Greg can't do it alone. You and I are going to help him convince his husband that he has no memory of their time together. But we'll have to keep this between the three of us."
"Four," Sherlock corrected her. "I have to tell John. He's worried enough, he doesn't need more stress. Besides he can help." Sherlock's gray eyes locked on Artiebiba's.
She nodded slowly. "Four then. I'll try to keep Mr. H. as distracted as I can without letting him work too much but you three will have to do your part."
Greg cleared his throat. "Do you really think this will work?" He asked seriously. "I only did it yesterday because I was angry with him for ignoring me for so long. I didn't intend to keep it going past today or tomorrow. He's going to figure it out."
Sherlock and Artiebiba regarded him somberly. "My idiot brother needs to learn to not neglect those he supposedly loves, Lestrade. We can manage convincing him you don't remember him for long enough to remind him why he has relationships in the first place."
Artiebiba nodded. "He's neglecting all of us. You the worst, Greg, but he's hurting us with his distance. I don't know why he's so…cold and cut off but maybe we'll find out why if he thinks he's got to help you remember him."
Greg let out a heavy sigh and sank back into his pillows. "All right," he agreed. "I'll play this for one week after I get out of here. But only ONE week. If he's still being…well, cold and unemotional and distant at the end of that week he and I will need to have a conversation about our future because I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"Agreed," Artiebiba and Sherlock said together.
"He'll come around, Greg," Artiebiba said comfortingly and took her seat beside Greg's bed before picking up his hand and squeezing it. "He does love you very much."
Greg squeezed her hand back and contemplated the ceiling. "I wonder sometimes," he admitted softly before allowing himself to doze off.
MH/GL MH/GL MH/GL
"Come along, John," Sherlock grasped his husband's arm as soon as he and Mycroft had stridden through the door. "Molly texted for an update and so we're going to go see her." John opened his mouth to protest but Sherlock just kept pulling him from the room. "Lestrade's asleep; you can talk to him later. Come along."
John ceased his struggling and his protests, knowing that arguing with his husband was useless when he was like this. Artiebiba shook her head with a small smile at the pair while Mycroft watched them leave with a bit of bemusement.
John pulled his arm from his husband's grasp after the door clicked shut and glared at him. "What is this really about, Sherlock?" He asked in an accusing tone. "I know Molly didn't text you."
"How could you possibly know that Molly didn't text me?" Sherlock scoffed and continued walking down the hallway.
John hurried to catch up with his husband's long legged gait. "Because she texted me while Mycroft was speaking to Dr. Grant."
Sherlock stopped walking abruptly, grabbed John's bicep and turned him so he could look the shorter man in the eye. "Does Mycroft know that she texted you?" He asked urgently.
John frowned at Sherlock. "I didn't tell him who had texted me," he said slowly. "I don't think he even knows I got a text, actually. He was rather busy berating Dr. Grant and commanding the man to order more tests."
Sherlock blew out a relieved breath. "Good. Now come with me to tell Dr. Grant that it is your recommendation that Lestrade recuperate at home." He pulled on John's arm to encourage the smaller man to walk with him.
"And why exactly am I doing that?" John asked in a hiss. "Greg can't remember Mycroft. His husband. They need to run tests and find out why he can remember everything except his husband."
Sherlock let out a quiet snicker. "Because Lestrade's memory is fine. He's teaching Mycroft a lesson."
It only took a few seconds for John to let out a snicker of his own. "Devious," he breathed. "I like it." He paused and looked up into his husband's unearthly gray eyes. "We'll have to stay at their place, you know. Greg's got a head injury and should really have someone with medical training near at hand."
Sherlock wrestled briefly within himself with his need for his own space and his need to protect his family before nodding grudgingly. "Fine. One week and then we go home. Lestrade is only going to keep the charade up for a week after he gets out anyway."
"Any complications from the injury should have become evident by then so, agreed," John nodded. "Let's go find Dr. Grant."