Breaks

Sherlock couldn't stop fidgeting.

John was coming to stay at his for three weeks! He had texted to make sure everything was right for when they arrived, and although he couldn't stop Mycroft from meeting them there; he planned to show John around the nearby village, which would coincidently avoid any of the expected confrontations about college attendance.

He hadn't stopped talking throughout the four hour car journey, and John found himself getting incredibly excited. He had never done anything like this before.

As John found that they were pulling into a long, winding driveway, he couldn't stop himself gawping at the sight before him 'You weren't joking about it being Holmes manor, were you?' he said, finally closing his mouth.

'Of course not' Sherlock replied, slightly embarrassed by the extravagance of his home. 'I never joke'.

As they stepped out of the car, Mycroft Holmes appeared, smiling, his eyes only slightly glassy and distracted.

'Welcome, Sherlock, John' he said, raising his arms.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and folded his arms, and after a few seconds, John decided to speak. 'Hello, . Thank you for allowing me to stay'.

'Call me Mycroft, please. Not at all, not at all'.

At this point, Sherlock's eyes narrowed, and he walked to the left slightly to see if he could view behind the half open door. 'Why are you being nice, Mycroft?'

Mycroft groaned at this, and turned around to reach for something, a man shuffled out of the house, eyes to the ground.

'This is Greg, Sherlock. I'm sure I don't have to describe the circumstances to you, do I?'

'Obviously not. And he's a detective inspector, excellent. He will come in handy. Come, John' he beckoned, pushing through the men to get into the mansion.

John trotted behind, flashing an apologetic smile towards Greg.

'Sherlock, why were you so rude?' John asked, sighing.

'I wasn't, it is his fault he didn't consult me before he let him live in our house.'

John supressed a chuckle, avoiding mocking his friend's immaturity.

'Your brother is a grown man. He doesn't have to ask your permission. You should apologise'.

Sherlock groaned, and pouted, but when this had no effect, he stood up and ran downstairs, leaving John in the corridor. He heard a shout 'MYC, GREGORY, SORRY! – JOHN TOLD ME TO, ALTHOUGH I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T HAVE TOLD YOU THAT'.

Sherlock ran back upstairs and looked at John expectantly.

'Good enough for now, well done' John whispered, grinning.

Mycroft hadn't moved. He and Greg stood next to each other, paralysed with shock. 'Did Sherlock just apologise because John told him to? I thought you said he didn't listen to anyone'. Greg questioned, looking around, surprised.

'He doesn't. Apologising means admitting defeat. He'd never do that. Unless Sherlock's chosen'.

'Chosen what?' Greg asked.

'The one'.