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Wild and Intuitive

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         Sherlock Holmes had no idea how his friends had talked him into this ridiculous idea. Him, John, Molly, and Mary had graduated a few weeks ago and Graham, who graduated last year, decided to take them on a roadtrip in his new car to celebrate. He could hear the car horn honking as he shoved his pillow over his head. “Sherlock!” Mummy exclaimed as she walked into his room, “Your friends are here and you’re not even out of bed yet!”

         “Okay fine,” he rubbed his eyes and sat up, “tell them I’ll be down in a minute.” Mrs. Holmes sighed as she left the room. He quickly grabbed a duffel bag and proceeded to shove all of his books and experiments in it. He pulled on a pair of shoes and ran out the door to see Gavin’s van waiting for him. His mother was standing near the car.

         “Sherlock Holmes! Are you-”

         “Yes. Goodbye.” He got in the car and closed the door before she could finish. “Alright,” he sighed, “let's get this thing over with.”

         “Are you in your pajamas?” John questioned angrily from next to him. Molly and Gaff groaned, Mary just laughed.

         “Hello dear, I’ve missed you too,” he responded to his boyfriend with a sarcastic smile.

         “Alright, go inside and change.” George said from behind the steering wheel.

         “Come on Geoff, I don’t want to I’m perfectly comfortable in my pajamas.”

         “It’s Greg!” everyone except Sherlock yelled simultaneously.

         “And we’re already off schedule.” Molly informed them.

         “Aw, you’ve made a schedule, have you sweetie?” Mary stroked her girlfriend’s cheek teasingly.

         “Yes!” She huffed as Mary giggled.

         “Well, we’ve still got to wait.” said Greg.

         “Wait for who?” inquired Sherlock.

         “John! You were supposed to tell him!” Mary snapped.

          “Tell me what? Who the hell are we waiting for?” Sherlock continued to press for information until a familiar figure opened the door and plopped down in the passenger seat. “No. No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

         “Hello, brother dear.” Mycroft smiled from next to Greg.


         “Told you he'd react well.” Molly snarked.

         “Come on Sherlock, he's my boyfriend, I have to bring him!” Greg looked back at him pleadingly. Sherlock snarled and fell into John’s chest, which Greg chose to interpret as an admission of defeat. “Okay, let's get moving.” Greg pulled out of the driveway as Mrs. Holmes waved goodbye from outside. Mycroft waved back, Sherlock curled further into John.

         “I made a mix.” Molly announced after a few minutes of driving, she pulled out a CD. Sherlock groaned.

         “We made a mix,” Greg corrected, “I helped.” He took the disc from Molly and put it into the CD player.

         “It is completely unfair that my brother is here.” They all ignored Sherlock’s statement.

         “Well my brother is here too, guess it's unfair to both of us.” Mycroft countered.

         “It's fair for me and John, we got our boyfriends to come along!”

         “Yup.” John smiled, ruffling Sherlock’s curls.


         “Pull over, I have to use the bathroom.” Molly said after hours of listening to her dreadful mix.

          “Sherlock, maybe you should change into your clothes now.” Said John.

         “I can't.”

         “Why not?”

         “Oh don't tell me you… Again, Sherlock?!” Mycroft shook his head.

         “What's he talking about,” John questioned, “did you not pack clothes?” Sherlock remained silent. Molly grabbed his bag and began rifling through it.

         “Microscope, beakers, journals, and textbooks. That's all there is!”

         “Sherlock.” John stared at him. “Did you bring pants?” Sherlock looked down. “Sherlock Holmes. Did. You. Bring. Pants.”

         “No.” He continued to look at the floor. Mary laughed, everyone else groaned.

         “Alright,” John sighed, “you'll have to borrow some of my clothes.” He grabbed his bag and pulled out a pair of cargo pants, his rugby shirt, and a pair of boxers. He shoved them into his boyfriend's hands. “Okay, you go change, the rest of us will use the toilet and buy some snacks.”

         Sherlock trudged to the toilet of the truck stop and picked out a reasonably clean stall. He began to change into his boyfriend's clothes (perhaps allowing John's pants to linger in his hands for a bit longer than he'd like to admit). He exited and made his way to the shop, grabbing a pack of cigarettes on his way to the counter where Greg was standing. “Get these for me, will you?” He threw the box on the counter.

         “Yeah, alright.” Greg handed the woman working the register his credit card. “Oi! The rest of you lot better hurry and bring your stuff up here quick or I’m not paying for it! You each get one thing, I'm not rich!” Molly was holding a packet of liquorice, Mary had a bag of crisps, John had a bottle of soda, and Mycroft walked up with an armful of snacks. They dropped their stuff on the counter.

         “Hey, how come that fatty gets so much stuff?” Sherlock glared.

         “Because I love him,” Greg smiled, planting a kiss on his boyfriend's forehead.


         “All right! First night of the road trip! You guys know where we're going?” Greg turned to face his friends.

         “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”

         “I think we should reconsider. I mean I don't want to go, Sherlock doesn't want to go, and I'm sure Molly doesn't want to go, right Molly?” Mycroft's face became panicked.

         “Yeah, I'm sure there's something else we could do-” Molly’s face lit up with fear.

          “No getting out of it,” John grinned, “we’re going to a club. “

          “With dancing, and music, and…” Mary stared at them tormentingly, “People!” They were terrified.

          “Please no!” Mycroft turned to Greg. “Honey, don’t this to me!” Greg, John, and Mary cackled evilly.


         They walked into the dark room lit up with strobe lights and filled with drunk people groping each other. Sherlock had no idea how this could be considered fun. Once their partners had gone to ‘dance’ (Sherlock had no idea how that could be called dancing, they were simply jumping around with a frankly jealousy inducing closeness to other people), Mycroft turned to the others. “We need to stick together, it is much less improbable that we will be able to navigate this alcohol filled sex den on our own.”

        “Agreed. If we don't they shall most likely find our heavily drugged and violated bodies lying dead in an alley.”

        “You two have a really interesting way of thinking.”

         “We know,” Sherlock responded.

Chapter Text

For the remainder of the night, they were each other's wingmen (and woman), doing the opposite of what a wingman usually does. Someone would approach Molly and Sherlock would grab her hand and pretend to be her boyfriend, if someone tried to flirt with Sherlock she would do the same, and if someone tried to hit on Mycroft, Sherlock would yell ‘He has AIDS!’

“How you guys doing?” Mary swooped in and wrapped her arms around the three.

“Not good,” Molly pouted.

“Mycroft has AIDS.”

“Shut up!” Mycroft gave his brother a sharp elbow to the ribs. Mary laughed at her friends, clearly a bit tipsy.

“You wanna drink?”

“Will you drink with me?” The younger girl grinned mischievously.

“Of course I will love.” She wrapped her arm around Molly and led her to the bar. “You two should find your boyfriends, I'm sure they wouldn't mind getting you drunk enough to dance.” She winked and wiggled her butt as she walked away. Definitely drunk.

The two brothers looked at each other. They seemed to reach an agreement without even speaking: the evening would be much more enjoyable with their boyfriends.




That was pretty much all Mycroft Holmes could remember of the previous night. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled into the muscular body next to him, not wanting to be awake, seeing as his head was hurting something dreadful. However, the other man burrowing into him caused Greg to wake and let out a loud groan, triggering the same response as the others in the vehicle. Soon enough everyone was yawning, moaning, yelling at each other to keep it down, and then moaning some more due to all the noise they were making.

He looked around. He and Greg were in the middle row of seats in Greg's van, John and Molly were up front, and Sherlock and Mary were in back. “Head… hurts,” Sherlock whined.

“Then shut up!” Mycroft retorted angrily.

“Neither of you utter another word or I’ll whip your asses,” Molly interrupted, rubbing her forehead.

“Mm… Look at my girlfriend being all tough.”

“That means you too babe.”

Mycroft leaned over and kissed Greg softly, rolling on top of the other boy and nuzzling his face into his boyfriend's neck. “Hey, love,” Lestrade whispered with a grin, running his fingers through the ginger’s hair as Mycroft napped on top of him.

Greg smiled, he hadn't had nearly as much to drink as the others. “Ha ha ha. You're gay,” Sherlock laughed woozily.

“Loud.” Mycroft whined, curling into a ball on the other teen’s chest. Greg shushed the others and rubbed his back.

“Hey!” The curly haired boy pouted. “I wan’ my boy’riend!”


Mary pulled him toward her lovingly. “Stop talking or I’ll kill you.”

“You're not John,” he mumbled, nuzzling in.


“One of us should start driving, we can go to a cafe,” John announced. “That one of us should be Molly.”

“You're the one in the driver seat!” She threw her discarded jacket at his face and rolled over tiredly.

“I'll pay for coffee.”

“Fine.” She huffed and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Get out so we can trade seats.”

“So much talking,” Mary whined. “Sherlock and I aren't going to kiss you two for the rest of the day if you keep making noise.”

“Ha, we’ll see how long he holds up.” John snorted, tired eyes half-closed as he climbed out of the old grey van and crossed around to the passenger seat. “Shotgun,” he grumbled as he and Molly switched places.

Once they got settled, Molly made another attempt to rub the sleep out of her eyes and began driving slowly, just at the speed limit. Thankfully, the road they were driving along was fairly desolate. It was around one when they came across a decent looking cafe.

They walked in through the metal door, the outer metal gate of the door had a gothic curve design. The walls were almost all window, and littered in social justice posters and colorful event schedules. There was a case showcasing a large assortment of pies, muffins and desserts. The blackboard above the counter had numerous food and drink options scrawled on in bright colors. The whole thing made Mary feel at home. There were people of all different races, ethnicities, and genders. Different fashion senses, and different walks of life, all eating and drinking their own individual orders. Even Sherlock seemed to enjoy the feel of the place.

Molly smiled and leaned into her girlfriend’s chest. “Mm. I like it here.”

“It's nice,” Mycroft agreed. Mary ruffled Molly's hair and planted a kiss on her forehead. They got their coffee and some food and sat down. As promised, John paid for the lot of them.

They sat at one of the circular tables in the shop, the six of them crammed in close. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” Molly giggled and leaned her head on Greg’s shoulder, yawning. “M’tired.”

“Me too,” Mycroft stretched and did the same, this rendered Greg incapable of moving lest he disturb the half asleep petite forms resting on either side of him. Lestrade chuckled and kissed Mycroft on the forehead, then turned to do the same to Molly

“M’kay, you two rest up. I’ll protect you,” he smiled and pulled his friend and his boyfriend close.

“Hey, that one’s mine,” Mary pouted, reaching for Molly. The brunette glady clasped her girlfriend’s hand.

“We’re in public,” Sherlock muttered. John leaned over and kissed him.

“Shut up,” the blonde grinned, placing his hand on Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock resisted the urge to smile. Maybe vacation wasn’t so bad.