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Caution: No Pity Here

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"Really, Inspector, do you post an ad for idiots or have you figured out how to grow them in the garden with water and sunshine?" Sherlock brushes a few irritating curls out of his face, his hand twitching uselessly in the air afterward as if there are other things he can brush out of his way, if he can only touch them.

"Come now," Greg says. "Let's keep investigating, huh? Go on, have another look." He slinks his weight against the peeling wall, crossing his arms and watching Sherlock.

"Go away." Sherlock dismisses Greg with a disinterested flick of his eyes.

Greg stands up again after a moment, shaking his head lightly as he makes his way to Jacob. Jacob, fresh-faced and shifting from foot to foot, is the new officer, and he's around because he's following Greg for a bit. He's the son of an old friend. Sherlock was referring to him when he'd asked about Greg growing his own idiots, and Greg's eyes narrow at the realization that Jacob really is a bit of an idiot. Always has been. It's still not good of Sherlock to say, though. 

Sherlock comes striding toward Greg, face a bit screwed up as he waits in hard-won silence.

"You'll just have to wait here until I'm finished," Greg says to Jacob, quietly but sharply. 

"Oh will I?" Jacob says after a glance around. He has the crime scene tape in one hand. All he's been allowed to do all morning is tape off the scene. He picks at the yellow plastic with a jagged nail that occasionally makes small tears. Jagged because he's been biting at it.

"There's more than one use for that tape," Greg mutters darkly, resting a hand on the yellow plastic. "I, never mind." He chuckles, letting go again.

"Tie me up?" Jacob challenges, but he quirks his brow. He's not offended. Greg smirks despite himself.

"Yeah. Like when you used to try to get into the pudding. You were a real handful, you know that?"

"So if I don't 'behave', you'll tie me up?" Jacob relaxes, smiles. He stands up a bit straighter.

"Try me." Greg tilts his head forward.

Jacob looks over at Sherlock. "I'll be okay now," he says to Greg. "Sorry. First day jitters. It's all very new. I think he wants to talk to you. 'Scuse me." Jacob steps away to give them some privacy, bending to leave the tape on the ground.

Greg turns around. There's a very strange expression on Sherlock's face. His eyes are wide, and he seems frozen. 

"Sherlock?" There's concern painted on his face in welcome. What could Sherlock have discovered? Hopefully, he'll let Greg in on it. There's no telling when he will or won't.

Sherlock starts slightly, then swallows. Greg's eyes trail down to his pale neck for a moment, its movement enticing. 

"Alright, Sherlock?"

Sherlock smiles one of his false smiles. "Does that treatment apply to everyone who misbehaves, Inspector, or only boys you've babysat for old friends?"

"Everyone," Greg says with a quirked lip and a hand on his hip. "Try me." 

There's a pause where he's not so sure Sherlock won't. He stares at Sherlock, who seems to have forgotten why he's standing there and awkwardly licks his lips. Suddenly, he comes back into action, to Greg's relief, and he begins to talk about the body some more in an intimately low and hushed voice. 


Greg doesn't make the connection at first when Sherlock starts moving things around at the crime scenes. It's little things at first like a vase that had no bearing on the case, and then it's more important things, like taking a victim's hat off.

Sherlock starts deducing things about Greg very heavily, even trying to embarrass him on purpose, which isn't typical. He tells him he was out drinking, but points out he went home alone. The next time he meets Greg, he points out that he's been masturbating rather a lot, and Greg leaves his side without a word to go talk to Donovan about a different case. Sherlock quits with the deductions after that, and hands back his badge, which he'd pulled from Greg's pocket earlier in that seamless way of his, like magic.

Sherlock licks his lips a lot more, which Greg only notices because he's wanted to kiss that pink, expressive mouth for years.

Sherlock becomes unnecessarily rude to witnesses, and that's where Greg has to draw the line. You don't blame people for things they didn't do, even if it's faster. It's not good, not on. He rests a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and says, "Come with me for a minute, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighs in relief as they move into the hallway to stand alone.

"That was rude. Mind explaining yourself? If you can."

"I don't mind at all, no. But tell me first, Inspector, does that count as misbehavior in your book, or do I have to really try?"

Greg's brow furrows. "Yeah, it counts." He waits for Sherlock to say something, anything. He's tilts his head. All Sherlock does is give an almighty pout and storm off. He behaves himself the rest of the day, but he glares at Greg often.

"You alright?" he asks as Sherlock is on his way out.

Sherlock flips him the bird with one of those incredibly long-fingered hands he really likes.

"Charming, Sherlock. Really."


Sherlock nicks one of the rolls of tape and rips some off, flinging it around his neck like a bright, plastic scarf. As he speaks about the body, he adjusts the tape almost constantly, and it's rather distracting.

"Sherlock, what are you even doing?"

Sherlock sets his jaw and goes quiet for a moment. "Well, what do you think I'm doing?"

Greg sighs heavily. "Look, if I thought it didn't matter, I wouldn't ask. But you've been on about something for weeks, and I just want to know what it is." 

Sherlock offers to walk him home from the crime scene, as his place is nearby and between the crime scene and Baker Street. 

Sherlock still has the tape, and he pulls out a rather lot of it, murmuring, "There sure is a lot of this tape, Inspector. I could get tangled up in this."

Greg chuckles. "Yeah, well, I imagine some of the guys'd like to see that." 

"Oh, they're irrelevant," Sherlock says, curling his hands into the tape, wrapping it around his wrists and over the bottoms of his coat's sleeves with fascination. He holds up one of his beautiful hands, showing Greg the way the tape curls around it.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be The Great Sherlock Holmes," Greg teases him with a small nudge. They finally reach his door, and he slides the key into the lock a bit more slowly than he usually would, drawing the moment out.  "Hey, thanks for walkin' me here, Sherlock." It was a nice walk. He likes when Sherlock's in detective mode, but he likes it when he's not too. The air is cool but there's little wind, so he'd felt quite comfortable for more than one reason.

"That was rude."

"Mm?" Greg turns his body toward Sherlock.

"Don't I get a coffee or something for walking you home?"

Greg smiles at him. "Well, sure. Didn't think you'd care, is all. Not gonna tie up the place in tape, are ya?" He laughs as he imagines what havoc Sherlock could wreak.

"Not quite, Inspector," Sherlock says mysteriously. Greg's curiosity leaps to a higher level than before, and he ushers Sherlock inside to sit on the sofa as he goes to fix the coffee.

Sherlock wastes no time, fingers racing down the buttons of his coat.

There are actually few people he actually knows that he'd feel comfortable doing what he's about to do in front of, and Greg is definitely one of them.

Sherlock strips off the armor of his scarf and his coat without a second thought, undoing the first 6 buttons of his shirt and letting it gape open helplessly. He pulls of his shoes as quietly as humanly possible and lies on his side across the length of the couch, trying for seductive and possibly not succeeding, though he hopes he is. 

"How do you take your coffee again?" Greg calls.

"Black, two sugars," he says, pulling a face because Greg should know that by now. He decides to take his shirt off entirely instead. Might as well be as clear about things as possible. He unbuttons the last few buttons and pulls off some of the crime scene tape noisily in preparation. 

"I hear you," Greg calls in a teasing tone. "That's the tape."

"Very astute," Sherlock says with a roll of his eyes, trying to wrap some of the tape around his neck loosely. The crinkle of plastic is all Greg can hear as Sherlock decides to try for making a gag instead. That might do the job of explaining his intentions.

Greg comes out of the kitchen with two mugs and a smile and just barely manages to not drop either of them. He slowly heads to the table to set the mugs down, his smile carefully tacked in place. "Er...Sherlock? What's going on?"

Sherlock smiles and shrugs, still very much shirtless and gagged by caution tape. 

"Well, what do you want from me?" Greg demands, his uncertainty and the desires he's had for so long without any hope making him feel cross. 

Sherlock sighs, stands, leads the way right to the master bedroom with hips that sway and do the talking for him. In his hand he holds the roll of tape, the long ends of the tape from his gag trailing behind him as he walks. He pauses briefly to give Greg a look that clearly says, "Are you coming?"

So, he follows. "Sherlock, what's going on? Do you have a point, or are you just being weird?"

Sherlock tosses Greg the roll of tape, which he catches with an easy stretch. Sherlock seats himself on the edge of the bed and smirks with dancing eyes and a finger tapping on his thigh. He gestures for Greg to come closer. 

Greg sighs, untying the loose gag with a few fumbling tries. "Sherlock," he says. "What's going on?"

"I didn't misbehave for nothing." Sherlock tugs Greg's hand closer by the roll of tape he's holding. "I had a point. I want you to tie me up, Inspector. And then I want you to let your imagination roam free." He raises an eyebrow enticingly, challenging Greg. "If it will help you decide, I can get properly naked, you know." He curls his long-fingered hands in position along his button and zipper. 

"What are you doing? I mean, er...why?"

"Well, this will flatter you, I'm sure," Sherlock says indulgently, unfastening his trousers and sliding them down his hips. "I couldn't get the image of you tying me up with tape out of my head, when you talked about it with your newest idiot. No, I know you didn't mean it sexually, with him," Sherlock assures Greg, who had made to protest. "But I knew you could mean it that way with me, if you wanted. You're obviously very attracted to me."

"I don't need your pity," Greg informs Sherlock, eyeing him with a weighted gaze and plenty of licks at his lip. "I mean, I may not be getting much, and I may find you...yeah, attractive, but I can take care of myself." He winces at the implication. "Ah, well, you know what I mean." What he means is anything except what it'd sounded like.

Sherlock tsks, looking disappointed. "Inspector, do you think I pity people regularly, least of all you? You're important to me. Now, truss me up with this tape and I'll show you how much I appreciate it. Are we clear?"

Greg blinks at Sherlock, rubbing at his chin. Slowly, he rests his hand on the tape hanging losely around Sherlock's neck and lifts it up, re-tying the gag. "Well, that's better then," he says with a large smirk. When Sherlock looks a bit offended, he kisses the hair at the top of his head. "We have time before Linda gets back. This is our secret." Sherlock rolls his eyes. "No, seriously. I know you want us to just divorce alreadymaybe you fancy me the way I fancy you" Sherlock rolls his eyes again, but it's less pronounced, "but let's not make it over quicker than it has to be, yeah?"

"Now," Greg goes on, stepping back a bit to look at Sherlock, wearing only a pair of tented pants. "Truss you up? Alright, Sherlock. I can do that. I think you're gonna like this a lot."

The crinkle of plastic as he tears off more tape causes Sherlock to react heavily.

"Maybe you do want this," Greg says, looking very pleased.