If you ignored the fact that there was some kind of murderous ghost hound lurking about, Dartmoor was actually a really nice place. Despite his holiday abroad it seemed like Greg still needed a bit more time off work - if running around forests in the middle of the night with a certain consulting detective could be counted as being off work, that was.
Still, Sherlock was luckily enough in his room doing his bit of thinking, while Greg and John seized the opportunity to have a pint, or rather a multiple number of them.
“You does do whatever his brother tells you, though.” John was beaming over the rim of his fourth glass of lager.
“I do not.”
“Oh, there’s no point in denying it, Greg!” John prompted with a chuckle and poked Greg with his elbow. The doctor’s accuracy was rather dulled by the amount of alcohol in his blood, and the poke was rather a smudge over his arm rather than a knowing gesture.
“I’ve seen... I’ve seen Mycroft coming round to your office, handing you files with this and that... I’m not stupid you know. Heard you whispering about Sherlock too.”
Greg shrugged and gave John a colourless smile. “We’ve got an agreement,” he said, but quickly continued when John gave a victorious chuckle. “That doesn’t mean I do whatever he tells me, at all. I only do some certain things, if he asks me nicely enough.”
There was another excessive laugh from the blonde man’s side. “Yeah, sure mate, you can say whatever you like. I saw once how Mycroft turned up at crime scene, looking all posh and mysterious as usual...” John had to stop due to his heavy hiccupping, but then continued after another gulp of beer. “And I saw how you then just got into the car with him, just with a look from his side... If I didn’t knew better I’d say you were shagging.”
Greg took another sip too, feeling warm and fuzzy even though he was far from being as drunk as John. “Perhaps.”
“I said perhaps we are.”
“Well fuck me sideways.” John’s eyes had widened as he stared at the policeman, yet he had quite a bit of trouble focusing on his face. “Really? You and... him?”
“Then you really are doing whatever Mycroft tells you,” John said with a proud smile and waved to the barman to get him another pint. “You’re his booty call then.”
Greg snorted. “Far from it.”
“You are though.”
“No, listen here,” Greg said and started pointing at a napkin lying in front of him of the bar counter, as if he was explaining some advanced military operation. “A few years ago he asked me to do things for him - tell him how Sherlock was doing, do the legwork on cases when he just wanted to stay in his office, stuff like that, but-”
“He’s exchanging favours for sex then.”
“No, no, he’s not!”
“Well, good, since he’s not really worth it, I mean... He’s not very attractive is he?”
This time it was Greg’s turn to poke his friend in the side. “Shut up. The thing is, he asked me to do those things for him, and I did a bit of it, mostly to keep Sherlock safe, until he asked me to do a favour which would have risked me losing my job. I got pissed off, and said that after all these things and favours he had asked - most of which I had to carry out without questioning them - I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked me to suck his cock too, and then I would really be his personal errand boy.”
“Which you are,” John teased, but he had leaned in to listen more closely to the other man.
“For Christ’s sake- I’m not!”
“But you did suck his cock though.”
“No, I did not- well, eventually I did, but that time he ended up sucking mine.”
“What? Like there and then?”
“Yeah, right there in his office,” Greg said quite smugly. “Mycroft Holmes, on his knees in his own office, sucking me off. It was quite a sight, as you can imagine.”
John didn’t say anything, but rather blushed as he frowned. “And that has been going on ever since?”
“Well, kinda. He asks me to do all sorts of favours if you must know. I can’t really say that we’re dating or anything, but we rather meet up whenever we need a good shag.”
“Is he...? I mean...” John shook his head and smiled before slurring. “He doesn’t look like a good shag.”
“He is, and he looks like a good one too. I mean, come on, you got to admit that he’s the sexiest man to ever wear a suit!” Greg smirked, pleased that he had managed to catch John’s attention. The doctor was staring at him - or rather tried to stare at him since his gaze was flickering around the policeman - his expression filled with confusion and curiosity. “What kind of favours is it that he asks from you then?”
“A bit of this and that... He can be quite desperate, usually he just texts me, telling me to be somewhere at a certain time. Sometimes though we go out for a meal - he’s quite a gentleman after all. Buys me all of these fancy dinners, treats me like a king, and then as soon as we’re back at his place it just falls down.” Greg spoke slowly in an almost hushed voice, enjoying how the doctor followed the movements of his lips.
John swallowed, sobering up quickly as he listened to Greg, who then suddenly leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“He’s always very polite about, just leans in, just like this, and then whispers in my ear with that silky voice of his. ‘Please, Gregory, fuck me’ he says, and I happily comply.”
Still with a self-satisfied smile on his lips, Greg then sat up back straight on the bar stool and watched the flustered man next to him clear his throat.
“Yeah. Although, as soon as we’re both undressed, he’s not as nerveless any more,” Greg boasted and sipped on his beer. “He’s very loud, in every way, I can tell you that. I swear that his moans can be heard all the way to Buckingham Palace. Told him that once, which only made him scream louder.”
John only hummed as he listened. Even though John tried to be discreet about it, Greg noticed how he had to shift in his seat in order to hide the bulge in his trousers.
“Sometimes he can’t be bothered with dinners though,” Greg continued. “Sometimes he just turns up, at my office or just in his car by a crime scene, and just begs me to fuck him there and then. Of course he fucks me too every now and again too. He did that when you and Sherlock were at the crime scene - that time you saw me getting into the car with him. He wasn’t even concerned that his brother or anyone else might have heard us, he just pinned me against the backseat and fucked me so hard that I wasn’t even able to get out of the car on my own.”
“Oh,” was all John managed to say as he gulped down the last of his drink. Greg tilted his head and watched the blushing doctor before finishing his own beer and giving a loud yawn.
“It’s quite late, so I think I’ll be off to bed. See you tomorrow, John.”
John didn’t say anything, he just let out a long exhalation before nodding. Very pleased with himself Greg got up and then headed for his room, hands deep down in his pockets. As he closed the door behind himself he shot a glance at his watch - it was time to give Mycroft a call, to ‘relieve him from his stress’. Smirking to himself Greg settled on the bed with the phone in his hand, quite pleased with himself. After all it was just Greg who had the pleasure to see - or in this case hear - this side of the British government.