“You know, John. They used to get along.”
John looked at Greg with one eyebrow raised, clearly skeptical of the statement.
“It’s true. When I first met Sherlock, they were close. Did most everything together. Sherlock was an addict, sure, but he never resented Mycroft’s attempts to get him clean. They got on rather well, the first time I met them, it was both at once, Sherlock while he was still going through rehab, and Mycroft because he was bringing along Sherlock. He was still shit at manners back then.” Lestrade gave a small smile, but only met John’s eyes for an instant.
“What happened, Greg? They’re clearly on poor terms now, and from what I’ve seen, you get on at least decently with them both.”
“They both happened, which was the problem. Mycroft would take me out to some fancy dinner to talk about how Sherlock was doing, Sherlock would join me in bed whenever he felt like it and act like nothing unusual was happening. Until one night when Mycroft took me out, he kissed me. Sherlock of course found out about it, and accused Mycroft of taking the one thing he’d ever wanted. There was a big fight, and Sherlock told me to choose between them. I didn’t like the fact he had referred to me as a thing and told him such. At least Mycroft had been polite. For a while Sherlock took it out on me, that was when he moved onto baker street, you see, but he got over that part soon enough, needing me to see cases, but he’s never forgiven Mycroft for me choosing fancy dinners over wild sex.”
John was silent for a moment, eyes wide as he took it all in. “And the fact they’ve gotten on better since I moved in means…?”
Greg gave a grin, “Most likely? One of these days you’ll wake up to Sherlock riding or sucking your cock. It’s grand believe me.”
“Oh dear god. I’m doomed aren’t I.”
Greg just chuckled in response, taking a long drink of his beer as John did the same.