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A Weird and Wonderful Weekend

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It had been a long and arduous case for three quarters of the Holmes-Lestrade family. A particularly nasty case that had been emotionally draining on the whole family, but as expected, Sherlock had blown the whole thing apart and saved the day for New Scotland Yard once again. Greg was even more proud of the bastard than usual.

Although Sherlock’s rain soaked, Thames’ side deductions had been given in the very early hours of Thursday morning, the best part of the rest of the day had seen Greg tidying up loose ends and filling out paperwork. The offices had been noisy and cheerful in the aftermath of the case, the wonderful downtime between one murder and another and around lunchtime John and Sherlock had arrived to give their final statements.

Sherlock had been particularly snippy with the other detectives while John had been in Greg’s office for his statement and John had been unexpectedly jovial with them while Sherlock was ushered away for his part. Eventually Greg could breathe a sigh of relief that his and his teams’ part of the case was done and dusted, and he leaned out of his office door, beckoning John with a whistle.

John joined Greg and Sherlock in Lestrade’s office, taking his usual seat next to Sherlock and Greg shut the door to the outside world.

“I’m so bloody proud of you two! Ah, that was brilliant!” Greg ruffled both heads of hair as he strode between the seated men and made his way behind his desk.

“Hey!” John tried to smooth his hair back into its usual business cut while Sherlock leaned forward and shook his head like a dog just out of the sea. Much to John’s annoyance Sherlock’s hair bounced back to its previous form but John still looked a tad dishevelled.

“Is that conditioner or something?” John nodded at Sherlock’s curls.

“No, just near perfect genes, thank-you.”

“Seriously, Sherlock, that was world class, that was.” Greg dropped into his seat with a sigh. Neither of the men on the other side of the desk were paying him any attention.

“Near perfect?”

“Well technically me and Mycroft come from the same gene pool and his hair…”

“Oh yeah.” John grimaced sympathetically.

“What’s this?” Greg tried to catch up.

“Mycroft’s losing his hair.” Sherlock stated plainly, making John giggle.

“Yeah,” Greg sighed, “Poor bugger.” Greg’s eyes suddenly went wide, he pointed to Sherlock, then at the corners of the room and mouthed, ‘Is he listening?’, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Probably. But we can’t get in trouble for the truth,” Sherlock straightened up and spoke louder, “Even if the truth hurts!”

Greg and John froze for a few seconds, waiting for the door to break down and Mycroft or his goons to swarm them. When that didn’t happen, they locked eyes with each other and huffed out a sigh.

“Don’t do that Lock, it’s not funny.” Greg grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

“It’s a bit funny.” Sherlock mumbled, sticking his tongue out in reply to Greg’s glare and instantly defusing it.

“Right, what’s the plan for tonight?” Greg asked, clapping his hands.


“Yeah, do you two fancy dinner?”

“What do you take us for?” John gasped, hand on his chest.

“Oh knock it off, I’m too tired for you two mucking about.”

“Sorry, you’re right. An early bird special for two?” John started,

“They need to be in bed in their matching pyjamas by eight for their stories.” Sherlock finished.

“Oi!” Greg chuckled, “I don’t know where you two get the idea that you’re funny.”

“We make you and Myc laugh all the time.” John sounded almost accusatory.

“Usually at you mate, not with you.” Greg chuckled.

“Mean.” Sherlock offered his best glare.

“I know, I know. Right, are you coming over for dinner?”

“Oh, do you need us to cut it up for you?” John asked in a serious, hushed tone.

“Right! Offer rescinded!” Greg waved his hands as he stood up and pulled on his jacket.

“Rescinded, Gregory Lestrade have you been reading behind our backs?” Sherlock gasped.

“Nooo, it’s Myc, he reads him the paper in the morning.”

“Oh of course.” Sherlock nodded but both men jumped up to follow Greg when he marched out of the door and jogged behind him to keep up with his stride.

“I’m not sure he can hear us over the sound of his knees.” Sherlock giggled,

“Nah I reckon his hearing’s going, Myc will have to sort him one of those fancy new hearing aids.”



“Geoffrey, the fancy new hearing aid.” John completely fell apart laughing but managed to keep up as they ran down the stairs to the car park after Greg.

Greg clicked his car key and unlocked the doors, he climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door after him, but John and Sherlock slid into the back seat. Greg took a long breath before looking at them in the rear-view mirror, they were both slightly flushed, out of breath and giggly.

“Behave,” Greg growled, “Both of you, and Sherlock god help you if you kick the back of my seat.” With that Greg clicked on the car’s lights and drove out of the carpark. “Geoffrey.” He chuckled to himself quietly and in the back-seat John and Sherlock grinned at each other.

The three of them rode in comfortable silence all of the way to the town house and when they pulled up outside, John and Sherlock climbed out and waited for Greg to lead the way. Greg fumbled for his keys and opened the door, standing aside to let the two younger men through before walking in and shutting the door behind them, once again shutting out the outside world.

They were stood in the hallway taking off their shoes and coats when Mycroft appeared from the kitchen,

“Ah! Congratulations, gentlemen.”

“Thanks love.” Greg grinned as he walked over and wrapped an arm around his husband’s waist, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Are you staying the night?” Mycroft asked as John and Sherlock emerged from the coat rack, they glanced at each other before John asked,

“Is that alright?”

“I wish you wouldn’t ask that,” Mycroft sighed, “Always. Why don’t you go and get changed out of your work clothes?” Mycroft nodded his head upwards and John and Sherlock started to climb the stairs one behind the other. “Oh, and if you can’t find what you’re looking for, I’m sure Geoffrey will help.” At that John and Sherlock raced upstairs to safety.

“So, you heard all of that lip they were giving me?” Greg asked as he followed Mycroft into the kitchen.

“I did.” Mycroft opened the fridge and took out a beer for Greg while he was getting himself comfortable on his usual seat at the island.

“You know I’m kind of hurt you’re not pissed off on my behalf.”

“They were just blowing off steam.”

“Oh right, but when it’s you they’re just ‘blowing off steam’ about, you can hear the telling off you’re giving them down the bloody street.”

“That’s different.” Mycroft poured himself a glass of wine and leaned back against the counter top, Greg chuckled,

“How so?”

“I’m not actually as old as they tease me for being, you on the other hand…”

“You cheeky-“ Mycroft smirked behind his glass but let out an unfortunate squeak of terror when Greg leapt up from his seat and rounded the island towards him, “Give that here,” Greg took the glass from Mycroft’s hand and carefully set it aside before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in for a kiss, “Don’t know why I put up with you,” Greg sighed fondly, leaning his forehead against his husbands.

“Because you’ve never been with someone so absurdly out of your league before- ow!” Mycroft yipped as Greg landed a hard smack on his backside.

“Behave.” Greg growled,

“Yes sir.” Mycroft nodded, genuinely trying to behave himself.

“I bloody love you.”

“I assure you, you’re love for me is not even half as great as my love for you.”

“You always have to win, don’t you?” Greg chuckled as he put a hand on the back of Mycroft’s head and kissed his cheek.

“Well I am the smart one after all.”

“Aren’t you just.” Greg kissed Mycroft again, gripping the back of his shirt in his fist in the hope that he would never be further from him than he was in that moment, not ever again.

“Urgh!” Sherlock wretched as he walked into the room, dressed in tracksuit bottoms, a t-shirt and a dressing gown.

“Oh no are they being all weird and in love again?” John asked as he peered around Sherlock, he was dressed in matching attire, minus the dressing gown.

“Disgusting isn’t it.” John nodded in agreement and sat down in his usual seat, Sherlock paused for a moment before adding, “You know you’re not meant to fancy people when you get to your age.” Sherlock took his seat next to John,

“You know dear, you’re really not that much younger than me.” Mycroft laughed, and Greg coughed loudly, “Or Greg.”

“Ha!” John barked out a laugh but instantly tried to hide it when he caught sight of Greg’s glare.

“That’s not true, I am much, much, much, much younger than you Mycroft.”

“In spirit dear, yes you are.”

“And in actual age.” Sherlock protested

“Seven years is hardly- “

“If a scary old witch in a darkened alley offered you the chance to be seven years younger you’d snap her hand off.”

“Scary old witch…Sherlock just who do you think I’m doing business with- No! Don’t answer that!”

“That should be your new job title,” John chuckled, “Scary old witch hand snapper offer.”

Mycroft laughed but added, “I don’t snap John, I shake.”

“Shake them off do you?” John smirked,

“John Hamish!”

“Oi,” Greg stepped in, “I’ll bloody shake you in a minute, knock it off.”

For a brief moment the room went silent and Greg could see the other three men processing his words, John was the first to speak,

“That made no sense.”

“Yes, Gregory your threats are becoming more and more vague,” Mycroft pondered.

“I’ll give you vague- “

“See what we mean.” Mycroft purred with a tilt to his head, “Ow!” before he skipped away from Greg rubbing his arse.

“Ha!” Sherlock pointed at Mycroft, adding in a sing song voice, “You got spanked.”

“Call that a spanking? I’ll show you a real spanking if you don’t behave.” Greg threatened. The room fell silent once again before the three other men broke out in sarcastic applause.

“Ay, he did it! An actual threat.” John cheered.

“Almost.” Sherlock added with a pointed finger,

“Eh?” John inquired,

“Well he said he’d show me a real spanking if I don’t behave. It’s hardly a threat if it’s someone else getting spanked, more of a tutorial really,”

“The boy has a point.” Mycroft nodded.

“It was close though,” Sherlock agreed amicably.

“Close but no cigar Lestrade, I think the old man’s losing his touch,” teased John.

“Enough!” snapped Greg, smacking his palms down on the counter top. “That e-bloody-nough! If the three of you don’t start behaving yourselves, right now, you’ll all be standing up for your dinner… Too vague?”

“Not at all.” Mycroft shook his head.


“No sir!” John and Sherlock responded in unison.

“Right then,” Greg dusted off his hands, “What do we all fancy for dinner- and if any one of you says something smart about dentures I’ll stand you each in a corner until our food arrives…”

“Pizza?” squeaked Sherlock, desperate not to say something that got them into trouble. Something, however, was brewing in John Watson's mind...

Greg sighed and smiled, “Good choice.”

“Finger food,” John nodded, “Smart given your arthritis.”