#greg lestrade one shot

[calaisreno]

Loyal, So Quickly

Greg and Mycroft have another chat. See An Arrangement.

560 words / Prompt: Intimidate

Mycroft Holmes doesn’t do things like other people, Greg realises. Where another man would text or call, ask to meet for coffee, Holmes kidnaps people. 

Not exactly kidnapping, but it’s a bit intimidating to be followed by a black car, invited in by a beautiful woman who does not smile. Maybe that’s a condition of working for the man: no smiling allowed. 

“I assume you’ve met my brother’s flatmate,” Mycroft begins without preamble.

“John Watson,” Greg replies. “Yeah, I’ve met him.”

“What do you think of him?”

“Seems like a good bloke. I mean, I think he’s trustworthy.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I can see he has a steadying effect on your brother. He keeps Sherlock’s attitude in check at a crime scene.”

Holmes seems to be making a mental note of this. “How much does Watson know about my brother’s habit?”

“When he found out about the drugs, I could see he was surprised. It didn’t take the world’s only consulting detective to see that he won’t tolerate that. Now that he’s aware, he’ll have an eye out for it. A doctor’s eye. Sherlock’s not going to jeopardise their relationship, though.”

“And what relationship is that?” The grey eyes narrow. 

“Your brother doesn’t have friends, Mr Holmes. Even me—he doesn’t consider me a friend. I’m just DI Lestrade, the person who supplies cases and needs Sherlock Holmes to solve them for me. We don’t hang out, have a pint and discuss the footy. We’re colleagues, I suppose.”

“You’re suggesting that he considers Doctor Watson… a friend?”

“I don’t know. Never seen him with a friend, so I’m not sure what that would look like.”

“And what about Watson?”

Greg remembers after the cabbie was shot, talking with Sherlock, who was wound up, talking a mile a minute, describing a man with a strong moral principle, a crack shot, a fighter. He’d noticed Watson standing behind the tape, waiting for Sherlock, looking innocuous. And he’d realised. Sherlock himself hadn’t realised until a moment later, when he begged Lestrade ignore me. 

He felt a bit proud, seeing something Sherlock hadn’t seen. So he watched, and saw more. Sherlock, walking towards Watson, Watson looking at him. They exchanged a smile and a few words, and he knew. 

He didn’t know Watson well yet, but he’d worked with Sherlock for a few years, and had never seen him look at another person like that. Admiration. Longing.

And then there’s the unsolved murder of Jeff Hope. Well, that bullet anyway. The man died of an aneurysm, but technically it could be murder, if the gunshot was what set things off. Not that he’s going to share his suspicions about that with the elder Holmes. No point setting up Watson for another interview. Though he’s sure that if anyone can stand up to Mycroft Holmes, it’s John Watson.

The look on Watson’s face. 

I think he would kill for Sherlock. I think he would die for him.

“He’s a loyal one. You can trust him. He won’t leave.”

Holmes is quiet for a long moment. Then he nods. “I hope you’re right. I think he could be the making of my brother. Or he could make him much worse. Either way, I will be watching.”

His smile reminds Greg that he’s not the only one likely to be followed by a black sedan.

--

I'm posting my #mayprompts2024 here on AO3 and in this collection. Please add yours!

[lilmoonbunny]

First Kisses; BBC Sherlock

Includes: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Moriarty.

Sherlock:

It wasn’t rare for Sherlock to come out with the strangest things, but there were times when his requests were so unexpected that one would choke.

“I need to test out a theory,” Sherlock broke the silence between himself and Y/N one day.

“…Okay?” Y/N replied simply, preparing to tell Sherlock that he can’t put a head in the microwave again.

“I require your help.”

That was odd, he rarely ever trusted someone else to help him with an experiment, not even John.

With a raised eyebrow, she responded. “How so?”

“You need to kiss me.” Whilst his words were as blunt as always, Y/N couldn’t help the way that she choked in surprise, all whilst he rolled his eyes. “It is not that serious, Y/N. I simply need to see if it solves these thoughts.”

“These thoughts?” Came her confused response, watching him as he walked towards her seat on the chair opposite him.

“That is what I said, yes. Do keep up.”

Rolling her own eyes, she stared up at the detective who had an impatient look on his face.

“I mean, okay? If that’s what you want.” He smirked slightly at her attempt to seem nonchalant at his request; he didn’t expect her to actually do it.

“I just need to see if t-“He began speaking, only to have his sentence cut short by her lips pressing against his own.

Sherlock’s eyes widened as her hand gently gripped his cheek as kissed him. He was frozen in place, heart racing, and chest heaving once she pulled away.

“Did that help?” She asked, looking up at the startled and silent man as she seated herself back where she was previously. She waited for a few more moments to see if he would respond before giving up. “Anyway, I need to get going. Tell John I said hello whenever he returns.” Y/N said as she reached the door, Sherlock still frozen in place, at least, until the door clicked, and he snapped out of his haze.

“Hey, Y/N, wait!”

John:

Despite his initial dislike for the youngest Holmes sibling, John couldn’t deny the feelings that he had grown for Y/N Holmes over the past few months. It was obvious to everyone besides the woman herself who was, unlike her brothers, oblivious to any and every sign of affection towards her.

It was just the two of them in 221B going through the latest case files whilst Sherlock attended a crime scene. He had originally asked John to accompany him, but the man refused after realising that Y/N was remaining at the flat, something at which Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, having already deduced his friends crush on his sister long before he even knew himself.

It was a trickier case than usual, hence why Sherlock had to return to the crime scene, leaving John and Y/N to search through mountains of files looking for one specific word.

“This would be so much easier if these files were all on a computer.” Y/N yawned, flipping the page over to the other side, John doing the same.

“Agreed.”

“Wait, this might be what we’re looking for!” The woman shot up onto her feet in excitement, turning the paper towards John and pointing at what she was looking at with a smile which was soon returned as he agreed.

In excitement, Y/N’s arms wrapped around John, and she pulled him in for a hug, only to pull away once she realised what she had done.

“I’m so sor-“ she began, only to be silenced by John wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into him for a moment, lips pressed against each other.

“Finally,” a deep voice sounded from the doorway, making the pair pull back away from each other in both shock and embarrassment. “Now if you two lovebirds are quite finished, what have you found?”

Lestrade:

It was odd for Greg to enjoy working with Sherlock.

Whilst he didn’t mind John’s company, Sherlock was an absolute nightmare, but their friend on the other hand, Y/N, she was wonderful and Lestrade could not get enough of her.

She was everything that Sherlock wasn’t. Kind, sweet, funny, genuine, and it came as no shock to him, or anyone else for that matter, when he began developing feelings for her. However, despite how obviously reciprocated his feelings were, the man refused to believe that she could ever like him back, even after Sherlock himself told him that she likes him too.

The two had become fast friends, having clicked as soon as they met, and a friendship with Lestrade meant coffee. All the time. Coffee was his favourite time of the day, especially if there were doughnuts involved.

“Your coffee is in the kitchen.” Y/N called as Greg let himself into her apartment, a common occurrence amongst the two, and he shot her a thumbs-up as he passed her to grab his drink.

“Thank you very much.” He grinned, taking a seat beside her on the sofa and turning his attention to the football for a moment. He knew she had no interest in the game, so why she had agreed to watch it with him, he didn’t know.

“It’s no problem, Greggy.” She teased him with the new nickname, one that always earned a blush from the older man.

“Do you have to call me that?” He muttered, both his cheeks and ears tinted red in embarrassment.

“Yep!” She smiled, pinching his cheek as he continued to stare at her, or, more specifically, her lips as she licked them.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, his hand resting on top of hers, and pressed his lips against hers, something which she gladly reciprocated.

In his panic, he abruptly pulled back before registering that she had returned his kiss and began rushing out apologies.

“I’m so so sorry, oh my God, I should definitely not have done that. I am so sorry!” He rambled, previous blush darkening as she pushed himself to the other side of the sofa, disgusted with himself.

“Greg.”

“If you don’t ever want to talk to me again, I get i-“

“Greg.” Y/N repeated his name to try and catch his attention.

“I’m just so-“

Sick of his unnecessary apologies, the woman reached out to grasp the fabric of Lestrade’s shirt, pulling his lips back onto hers, her other hand landing on his shoulder.

“There’s no need to apologise.” She whispered against his lips as she pulled back. “I wanted that.”

Greg, too confused and happy to even register what she was saying, just listened to his brain go oh!

Mycroft:

Mycroft Holmes had two soft spots, his brother and Y/N, the latter being one that he was unwilling to admit to himself, let alone anybody else.

“Morning, Mycroft,” Y/N greeted him as he entered the café, one which he was a regular at; only for her, of course, but she could never know that.

“Good morning, Y/N,” came his simple response as she brought him his usually coffee, having already anticipated his arrival; he was nothing if not punctual, after all.

Neither of you knew how your friendship had evolved into him driving you home once you finished work, but there was never a single complaint heard about it. The moment you ended up at his home, however, that was when something shifted.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… odd. Having never been this close to someone besides his younger brother, Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure how to act, especially when the tension in the room reached its peak and your lips ended up pressed up against the others.

It was awkward, as to be expected considering that the older Holmes had never kissed anybody before. However, the awkwardness had its own charm about it, especially when he pulled away with flushed cheeks and immediately changed the subject, ignoring what had just happened for his own peace of mind.

“Should we like, I don’t know, talk about it?” You asked him the next time he entered the café, watching him closely for any sort of reaction.

“Talk about what? Nothing weird has happened recently, nothing at all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Mycroft rushed out, desperately praying that you were oblivious to the shade of pink that now covered his cheeks.

He had no idea how it even happened, it just… did. Myrcroft was never one for affection, or even friendships, so he didn’t know why he kissed you and even worse for him, he didn’t know why he wanted to do it again.

“If you say so,” you chuckled at his embarrassed demeanour. “Either way, I finish in an hour if you like, wanted to go for dinner or something.”

Maybe he would wait around an hour, not for any specific reason. After all, nothing weird had happened.

Moriarty:

For as long as they had worked together, Y/N and Jim had always flirted with each other.

It started off small, almost unrecognisable, but gradually grew into full-blown flirtations with invitations that were never accepted. Co-workers turned into friends, and a friendship turned into longing, it was just how the cookie crumbled.

The two stared across at one another, Y/N pushing a plate of food in front of the criminal. “Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat, do not test me.” She warned, although there no malice in her voice; she just wanted him to eat something for the first time in a few days.

“Do I have to?” He pouted like a young child, earning a giggle from Y/N.

“Yes!” She laughed, leaning in closer. “Or I’ll force feed you it.”

“With your mouth, I hope.”

A blush dusted the woman’s cheeks as an idea formed in her mind, one which would solve many problems, including his refusal to eat.

As she leaned in closer, Moriarty couldn’t resist the joke falling from his lips. “Ohh, are we about to kiss right now?” His words were teasing, he didn’t actually expect her to do so, but as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.

Despite his initial shock, he was quick to respond to the kiss, his hands moving to cup her cheeks and pull her closer into him, deepening the kiss whilst one of Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulder and the other to his neck.

“I suppose we are,” were the only words spoken with a cheeky smile before she pulled him back in for a kiss to shut him up.

[starkraivennemad]

Maybe One More...

“Okay, I think we’re good -that’s a wrap.” Gary lowered his camera. “We got some really great shots here!”

“Awww, not quite ready to give them up yet.” Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade mock pouted. “You guys don’t want to leave yet, do you?”

It was time for the annual New Scotland Yard Calendar photo shoot and the large room usually used for press conferences was turned into a makeshift studio. Several of NSY’s more visually appealing coppers were selected for the shoot. Though in Greg’s case, it was more of an order from his higher ups.

He had been on the telly several times in the past year having solved four high-profile cases -and three without Sherlock’s help. Each time he appeared, the emails and comment boards of NSY’s social media would go through an embarrassing uptick in volume for the several inquiries wanting, aka thirsting, after NSY’s silver fox. Greg relented telling himself it was for charity, but what really got him in the room was learning the charity for the year: Battersea Dogs and Cats Home.

A fake police line-up wall was the backdrop, and Greg sat on the mock studio floor playing with the most adorable of suspects: puppies! He was simply having a fun time with them, lamenting how the insane hours of work and his lifestyle really did not lend to keeping any pet as much as he would love to have a canine companion.

“If you want more time with them, we can get a few more shots, but you know what that means D.I. Lestrade…” Gary cajoled.

Gary was able to get Greg to pose with his shirt fully open exposing his torso. He even got him to pose with a shoulder and arm partially exposed. Even though the other eleven officers had little problem with it, what Gary could not do was get Greg to take his shirt off altogether.

Thus, Gary threw down the gauntlet: if Greg wanted more fun time with the puppies it had to be shirtless.

Greg was about to give up his puppy time when Sgt. Nicholas, who had been teasing a reticent Greg looked over in a corner. “Was that corner camera always facing this way?”

Greg froze. He played with a puppy, lifting it to hide how he slowly turned his head to look at the camera indicated. Greg was the last model. He knew the camera was not facing the set, while the others were there, he had checked. “Hmm, the cleaning people likely shifted it again. We can have security take a look when we’re done here.”

“I’ll do that.” Sgt. Nicholas nodded, “Are we done?”

Greg stood, “I swear. The things I do for charity.”

“And puppies!” Sgt. Nicholas laughed.

Seeing Greg remove his cuff links, Gary grinned getting his camera ready. “And what do you think you're doing?”

Biting his lip to hide his own grin, Greg slowly took off his shirt to cheers and cat calls.

“Maybe one more.”

“You’re going to be late for your meeting with the PM sir.”

Not that far away a certain occupant of a minor office in British government stood, about to close the browser window to the camera facing a certain detective inspector.

“In a minute, Anthea.”

Then his husband, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade stood and began to take his shirt off.

Mycroft Holmes fell back into his seat.

“Maybe one more.”

----------------

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@flashfictionfridayofficial

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Chasing Ataraxia

Always in motion, if not physically then mentally, the latter sometimes being more exhausting than the former. His brain never rested, and it made him frantically tug at his curls in despair before seeking out Mycroft and later Victor. Both were able to distract him and his thoughts that were whirling around in circles, making him dizzy. 

Mycroft wasn’t exactly the physical type and encouraged Sherlock to use his brain by solving puzzles. Oddly enough, that calmed him because his thoughts were focused on one matter instead of creating chaos, firing all sorts of information at him in a constant loop.

Victor took him on adventures with their wooden swords and tricorn hats, playing pirates at the shore of the lake. Sherlock was happy and free in those moments, laughing heartily, his brain occupied with finding hidden treasures and chase the invisible enemy. 

***

The six-year-old boys cried in each other’s arms the day before Victor’s departure to Canada. 

“Why can’t you stay with me?” Sherlock wailed. “We have a big house. You can sleep in my room. There’s space for you there.”

“I want to, Lock, but I can’t. Perhaps you can come visit?” Victor said while stroking Sherlock’s hair. 

Sherlock looked at Victor with red-rimmed eyes and hope rose in him. 

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “I will. Promise.”

Sherlock’s hopes were shattered by Mycroft. 

“Canada is far away, Sherlock. It’s better that you realise now that it’ll be difficult to travel that far, than to keep your hopes up. I’m sorry, brother mine,” Mycroft murmured when Sherlock threw himself into his arms and cried until his throat was sore.

***

“I’m going to find a new friend,” Sherlock stated when school started again.

“Be careful, Sherlock,” Mycroft warned him. “Not everyone is like Victor.”

As always, Mycroft was right. Sherlock was a passionate boy; it was all or nothing. When he got older Sherlock realised that his search to find another best friend and soulmate was a fool’s quest. 

In his Greek lessons at Cambridge, he read about Ataraxia, which was described as a kind of freedom from disturbance in the mind.

The phrase hit him like a fist to his solar plexus. That one word described just what he wanted to accomplish. He did sometimes manage to get the feeling from the drugs, but it lasted too short, and the aftermath was taxing. 

***

When Greg Lestrade decided to trust Sherlock, some of the excitement from his days with Victor came back. He got to chase visible enemies through a city he knew better than any cabbie, and his brain focused on puzzles. It was perfect except from one thing; he was alone on his adventures. Mycroft was no use anymore with his intricate government work, always too busy to pay his brother much attention.

Where can I find someone who’s willing to share this crazy life?

Sherlock knew he had built solid walls around himself. For protection against bullies, but he had a door in those walls. A door with a keyhole. 

When John Watson lent him his phone at Barts one of the last days of January, Sherlock gave him the key to that door when he asked him to meet him at Baker Street the next day. 

After John had tested the waters with him at Angelo’s, and later had shot that awful cabbie, Sherlock knew his search was over. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @safedistancefrombeingsmart @phoenix27884 @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at @peanitbear @sabsi221b @a-victorian-girl

[bakerstmel]

Fall Favorite Fic Festival, Entry 4

I'm writing this in Memphis, TN, and I can't see any red trees from my hotel window. Too far south to have gotten started, maybe. It's been very overcast. I'm here for a professional meeting, and as is always the case, they've had the AC set to "violent" in the meeting rooms and I don't know that I'll ever be warm again. You know how if you've ever gotten a sunburn, the water in the shower is warmer when it hits your feet than when it comes out of the showerhead, because it's been heated by your skin? My showers here have been the complete opposite of that.

All that to say, I'm still feeling sad, still feeling lonely, definitely facing an anniversary reaction from my sister's passing, and still quite intentionally drowning my sorrows in fic.

I had the best, most angsty fic in mind for this entry, like, call and warn @221bjen level angst, but then one day, this manip came to mind, for no particular reason:

and oh, yeah, baby. I couldn't sign into AO3 fast enough. If you know, you know, and if you don't, you've got to read:

Whiteout, by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

I will spare your TL by adding a cut here.

This is a fic I re-read fairly often for sheer pleasure, but that is not to say it's fluff. The author tries in the notes to make it sound like fluff, but it's Sherlock and John as part of an aerial rescue team at the freaking Matterhorn and there is ice and danger and multiple CPR events and Greg Lestrade speaking French and secrets and tears and all kinds of relationship drama and it's JUST NOT FLUFF, OK? However, it is written in a fun documentary style (Shane based it on a documentary he came across on Netflix) with mostly dialogue and camera direction and it is a quick, satisfying read.

I've had the pleasure of betaing for this author in the past, and so I've spent more than a little time thinking about his style. He is an extremely versatile writer, and I think this fic really highlights that. If you compare this style to, say, the highly descriptive and romantic (not just in the relationship way, but also in the world-painted-in-perfect-light-way) Gimme Shelter, you wouldn't necessarily know they were written by the same person within a fairly short block of time (8 months). This fic is crisp, well timed, and quickly paced, with perfectly set points of action, snappy dialogue, and not a lot of down time. Gimme Shelter moves well too, but it's a very different feeling, silky and gentle. It's like the difference between taking a shot of great tequila vs savoring a perfect Cabernet. And if that's not enough for you, please note that SWDYCMJ has also written Priestlock, a skiing OT3, a straight-ahead ghost story, Potterlock, and a Black Mirror crossover that kept me on my toes. Plus, of course, the beautiful Brokeback Mountain fusion that still breaks my heart in all the best ways.

I mentioned in my last entry how the artistry in this fandom continues to knock me out to this day, and Shane's collective work is another prime example.

I don't feel like I'm doing this fic justice, but it's kinda hard for me to talk about without ruining the surprise of it. Even discussing the structure is tricky. Just...go read it. You'll thank me later.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello!

Do you have any "who hurt you" fics where john or sherlock goes completely scorched earth on anyone who hurts the other?

Thank you!!

Hey Nonny!

You know, I've been asked for similar-style fics a LOT this week, so my lazy arse decided to just scroll through my bookmarks because I don't have a list ready anyway, and pulled out the ones that I THINK have a similar premise :) Please note that it's been awhile since I've read these so I probably effed up a bit, hence the title I used for this list instead :P And apologies for the large chunk of FFNet fics.

As always, please add your own lists if you got them!

WHUMP WITH VENGEFUL / PANICKING / WORRIED PARTNER

See also:

John Whump with Guilty Sherlock

John Realizes How Important Sherlock is To Him

Three Garridebs Moment

Words Were Never Useful by Jenn1984 (K+, 819 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, John Whump, Friendship, Ambiguous Ending) - ALLEY BEHIND THE BOOKSTORE, JOHN STABBED. HELP NOW. SH

Dismantle the Sun by Mount_Seleya (T, 965 w., 1 Ch. || John Whump, 3G, Angst, Grief) – After a gunshot leaves John in critical condition, Sherlock holds vigil beside his hospital bed, slowly unravelling as the night progresses.

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Wreckage and Rubble by grannysknitting (K+, 1,116 w. || Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Ambiguous Ending) – Lestrade's point of view when he's called to the wreckage of the pool. He doesn't want to deal with the wreckage that would occur if London's newest crime fighting duo are parted from each other.

Let Me Through by RacheLynne (K+, 1,172 w. || Angst, Friendship, Ambiguous Ending) – Once Sherlock and John are finally reunited, things seem to be looking up. But when is it ever sunshine and roses for these two? It isn’t long before things go downhill for the pair - and fast.

Two To Tango (The Cold Hands, Warm Heart Remix) by igrockspock (T, 1,207 w., 1 Ch. || Domestics, John Whump, Worried Sherlock) – When John is wounded while pursuing a suspect, Sherlock refuses to leave his side. 

I Feel A Weakness by Jenn1984 (T, 1,389 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, John Whump) – John Watson is hurt. Sherlock has a hard time processing it.

Persuasion by Januscars (K+, 1,492 w. || Friendship, Crime, Angry Sherlock, Hostage John) – A gunman holds a gun to John's head, and Sherlock proves to be very persuasive when he wants to be... 

Left In The Ashes by zoltargirl (T, 1,497 w. || Angst, MCD, Angry Sherlock, Brutal Violence) – Rage is a unique quality in all human beings. In Sherlock Holmes, it's terrifying.

The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.

Priorities by Starlight05 (K+, 1,686 w. || Friendship, Worried Sherlock/John) – The power is out on Baker Street, so candles are the only source of light at 221B. But then, at night, things go terribly wrong, and Sherlock and John realize just how much they mean to each other.

Quite Contrary by Hollyesque (T, 1,805 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Sherlock Whump / After Mary Shot Sherlock, Hallucinations / Flashbacks / PTSD, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Lestrade POV ) – A short one-shot, alternate scene to Greg's hospital visit in HLV. Instead of Sherlock disappearing, Greg is faced with an unexpected reaction to a hospitalized Sherlock and winds up figuring out something that he really would have rather not known.

In Which Lestrade Looks in on Sherlock and Observes by Aztecwarfareandcrumping (K+, 1,833 w. || Lestrade POV, Friendship, Hurt Comfort, John Whump) – John's in hospital, which means Sherlock is, too. Lestrade takes it upon himself to look in on them.

One in Ten Thousand by Blind Author (K+, 1,856 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Discussions of Violence, Worried then Curious Sherlock, Scars/John’s Bullet Wound, Medical Anomalies) – John seems to have unusual mobility for a shoulder wound…

The Doctor's Capable Hands by Totally-Out-Of-It (K+, 2,012 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock Whump, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Anxious Sherlock) – Sherlock is injured during a chase. John sits watchful at his bedside in the hospital and wonders. He wouldn't leave Sherlock alone like this. Especially not if Sherlock wanted him to stay.

Ten Hours by morningdawn202 (T, 2,242 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Friendship, Worried Sherlock, John’s Cane) - It’s been ten hours since Sherlock saw John last. 

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless / Guilty Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Domino by Deception's Call (K, 2,689 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Scared / Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Crying Sherlock, Hospital, Implied Caretaker Sherlock) – When John is injured on a case and is admitted to the hospital, those at Scotland Yard come to realize that perhaps Sherlock Holmes has a heart after all.

All in a Day by chappysmom (K+, 2,920 w. || Kidnapping, Sherlock POV) – Oddly enough, it seemed like this time, Sherlock had been kidnapped for no other reason than to pressure John. In other words, this had nothing to do with him. Really, this on top of the blow to the head was enough to make him dizzy.

Once is Enough by Jominerva (T, 3,030 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Whump) – Just as the earth rises to meet the sun at every mountain crest, John reaches out for Sherlock and takes his hand in his own."Tell me it won't end like this," he says, blue eyes holding grey while he laces their fingers together. Sherlock lets out a shaky laugh and shakes his head. "I wish I could."

A World Without You by tinyhobbit (T, 3,133 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump) – After John is quite badly hurt at the scene of a crime, Sherlock reacts in a way which allows John to finally see that his sociopathic best friend cares. One-shot, set sometime between Baskerville and Reichenbach.

Explosions, Literal and Otherwise by Jennistar1 (T, 3,288 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Worried Sherlock, Sort of Rev.-Reichenbach) – Sherlock does not react well to the idea that John might be dead.

All That I Have by the_arc5 (M, 3,721 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Pining Sherlock, John Whump, Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Light Angst) – In the aftermath of the Great Game, Sherlock finds himself with a new weakness. John is both the cause and the cure.

Nursery Rhymes by macrauchenia (T, 4,064 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Suspense, MCD, Unhappy Ending) – "Hickory dickery dock. Sherlock's against the clock. When the wick is gone, so will be John. Hickory dickery dock." - John is in a struggle for his life in a warehouse rigged to blow by Moriarty.

Not Without Me by Jennistar1 (T, 4,319 w., 1 Ch. || Drama, Mystery, Post-TRF Hiatus, Pining Sherlock) – Halfway through Sherlock's Great Hiatus, Mycroft comes to him with the news that John has died. But all is not what it seems…

Very Good Indeed by StillWaters1 (T, 4,531 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Doctor John, John Whump) – John Watson was a doctor, trained to observe details; a fact Sherlock had never been more aware of than when a drugged John’s lifesaving instructions were based on an unlabeled syringe and an unconscious murder suspect’s body.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: Sherlock Holmes, RELATIONSHIP: n/a by blueink3 (M, 5,533 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt John / John Whump, Five and One, Fluff & Angst, Worried Sherlock)  – The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job. Part 1 of The Emergency Contact Series

Not The Hands That Kill by You_Light_The_Sky (M, 6,201 w., 1 Ch. || Winglock, Whump, Mentions of Drug Use) – Having wings does not make Sherlock Holmes a guardian angel, not in the way that John Watson is his.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: John Watson, RELATIONSHIP: Saint by blueink3 (M, 6,229 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt Sherlock, 5+1, Hurt / Comfort, Caring John, Scars) – The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job. John, of course, does not know this and neither does the local hospital. Part 2 of The Emergency Contact Series

Goodbye, John by XxMildredxX (T, 7,154 w., 1 Ch.  || MCD, Angst, Self Reflection, Saying Goodbye, Holidays,, Scared Sherlock, Bittersweet Ending) – John finds it very difficult to tell Sherlock of his diagnosis, but it seems Sherlock has deduced it himself. As John says goodbye, he and Sherlock struggle with the feelings that this brings on them, and how Sherlock will go on when John has gone.

It’s Natural To Be Afraid by Jenn1984 (T, 7,283 w. || Tragedy, Angst, MCD) - Refusing to accept the obvious, Sherlock searches for what he believes truly happened the night his world was shattered.

Riddles in the Dark by Starlight05 (T, 9,255 w., 10 Ch. || Suspense & Friendship, Torture) - When Sherlock is kidnapped by an old nemesis, it’s up to John to find him and save his life. But can he find a way to get the detective out of this mess? And will they be found in time?

The Dying Doctor by Transcendental Starlight (T, 11,258 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John / John Whump, ACD Rewrite) – Loosely based off ACD's "The Dying Detective." Sherlock relives a case that should have killed him, but instead resulted in John being hospitalized for a deadly disease. Sherlock endeavors to catch the murderer, while attempting to envision a future without John Watson. No Slash.

Equilibrium by augustbird (M, 12,351 w., 1 Ch. || Flowers for Algernon Fusion || Jealous then Worried Sherlock, Sick John) – At Baskerville, John is infected by a virus that turns him into a genius. But when the infection progresses into neurodegeneration, it's a race against time to save himself.

The dying Doctor by marylouleach (T, 21,168 w., 11 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump) – Doctor Watson is gunned down in a dark alley after work, Sherlock wont rest until he finds the man responsible. Guilt riddles him when he realizes he could have prevented this.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bloody But Unbowed by BeautifulFiction (E, 43,211 w., 8 Ch. || Abduction, John Whump, Mild Torture, Background Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort) – When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock's failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he's not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) –  Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w., 17 Ch. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sick Fic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him. 

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,256 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w., 24 Ch. || H/C, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John's kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John's sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

[specialagentlokitty]

Lestrade x reader - I need you

- Lestrade x Reader - Reader is an officer for Scotland Yard and a suspect shoots/ stabs them fatally and Reader dies in Greg's arms. Extra angst if they're not in a relationship and Reader's last words are 'I love you' and Greg doesn't get to say it back - @mxacegrey 💜

Crouching behind the police car, gun in your hand you looked at the man next to you.

“Do we have a clear shot?” You whispered.

“No, they’ve can’t get a clear shot because of the hostage.”

You moved to the other side of the car and looked at the sobbing woman, you didn’t know what to do, if anyone made a move he was going to hurt her.

You couldn’t let that happen, so you peaked around the car and you realised there was a way to get around this.

You looked to Lestrade and you gestured for him to come over.

“Move the riot unit to behind that building, Anderson and Donovan need to keep him distracted. If we can get behind those bushes we’ll have a short window before he notices…”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s anxious, alert. He checks all around him frequently, a minute is all we have to move officers behind the bushes, he won’t see them. From there two officers can strike, one grabs him and the other grabs the woman.”

Lestrade looked at you then to the rest of the force who was waiting for some sort of direction.

He trusted you, and he knew you thought carefully about this so he nodded and moved, and you watched the man follow Lestrade with his head.

Using this as a chance you quickly crawled to the next car, looking around you pointed to an officer and he moved over.

“With me.”

“Right.”

You waited for the moment to move, which took more time then you wanted, but soon enough you were slowly moving behind the bushes to get to the opening behind the man.

“We have one chance, you follow me. When I grab him, you need to grab her and get her out of there, okay?”

“Yeah, got it.”

You waited again, and slowly you started to move, but it was Anderson who gave the whole plan away.

He looked at you, which made the man look and you made a split second choice.

Running, you grabbed both his arms and threw him to the ground, while the woman was rushed away you were knocked to the floor and you felt a sharp pain in your side.

“(Y/N)!”

The man was tackled off you, and Lestrade ran over, dropping to his knees next to you.

He started to pat around your vest, and he felt the gap in the fabric of it.

Carefully he undid the vest, and peeled it back to show your blood soaked shirt and he cursed under his breath.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing serious. I just need to get this off.”

He carefully moved you in order to get the vest off, and he took his jacket off, folding it he placed it under your head.

Lestrade placed a hand over the wound, applying pressure to it to try and stop the bleeding, and the other on the side of your face.

You were gasping for air, your hand shaking as you brought it up to grip his hand tightly, pulling it away from your face as you clutched it.

“L..Lestrade… it… it hurts..”

“Shh, okay. It’s okay, you’re okay…” he whispered.

He looked at his hand which was covered in blood, seeping through his fingers and to the floor.

“Crap.. crap!” He yelled, “we need an ambulance hurry up!”

He turned his attending back to you, and he lifted your shirt a little to see the blood just pouring out of your abdomen.

“Oh god..”

He quickly pulled your shirt back down and tried pressed his hand back to the wound but he couldn’t get a good grip.

He pulled his tie from his neck, getting your blood on his neck and shirt but he didn’t care. He used the tie to put pressure on the wound.

You had tears falling from your face, and he reached up, hand still in yours as he wiped some of your tears.

“I’m here, just hang in there helps coming, it’s coming…”

You turned your eyes to his and you breathed shakily.

“It.. it hurts.. Greg I.. I.. I can’t..”

“You can. Okay? You can! You.. you have too…”

He was trying to keep himself calm and composed for you, but it was next to impossible.

Looking at you, bleeding on the floor, begging and crying because you were in so much pain. He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

He placed the back of his hand to your cheek, turning your head to face him and you looked at him, heaving for breath.

Blood was trickling from your lips, you could hardly breath.

Quickly Lestrade acted, hand pressing into your wound making you cry out in pain and he apologised as he rested your back against his chest.

Your head was on his shoulder, and you were breathing deeply, your hand still clutched in his, and your other hand wrapped around your abdomen, fingers brushing against his.

“Ambulance is a few minutes out!” Someone shouted.

“You hear that? A few minutes, just a few more minutes…”

You heard him but you didn’t say anything in reply.

You looked at all the blood around, on your clothes and his hand, still pouring out and the realisation hit you.

Even if you got into that ambulance you didn’t have a good chance of making it, you didn’t have to be Sherlock to know that one.

“Greg… Greg I.. I need to tell you.. something…”

“Tell me in the hospital okay?”

“No.. no… you… it has to.. be now…”

You slowly titled your head back, bringing your free hand up to his face, gently touching his cheek.

Lestrade heard the sirens.

“I… I love you…”

He stared down at you in shock, and you gave a weak smiling.

Your vision was pulsating, and your body felt heavy.

“I.. I love… you…” you repeated.

Lestrade leant into your touch, and he then leant down and kissed the top of your head, looking down at you.

He went to reply, but he realised your hand wasn’t holding his face anymore, it was on the floor.

Your other hand that was clutching his was limp, and your eyes were closed.

“(Y/N)…”

He gently shook you.

“(Y/N)? No. No. No. no. No. Wake up. Please, wake up, wake up!”

He laid your on the floor and stared to push down on your chest, trying to remember how to do CPR.

His tears fell on your face, but he didn’t stop, he kept going, anything to keep your heart beating just a little longer as the ambulance came around the corner.

“Wake up!” He yelled.

Paramedics rushed up, and pushed him away, no matter how much he yelled and begged and pleaded for them not to take you away they did.

Lestrade fell back, Anderson appeared behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting his boss lean against his legs as he stared at your being taken away.

Lestrade looked down at his bloodied hands, your blood. The hands that you held so tightly when you took your last breath.

You told him you loved him.

You.

You loved him.

He’d been waiting to hear those ever since he first laid eyes on you but he could never build up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Lestrade slowly pushed himself from the floor, stumbling a few steps as he grabbed his jacket, and barged past Anderson to get to his car.

He got in and he just sat there, bloodied hands gripping the steering wheel as he just stared straight away.

You loved him.

And he couldn’t even say it back.

He couldn’t ask you on a date.

He couldn’t see your smile.

Couldn’t hear your laugh.

Couldn’t do anything he loved dong with you.

You had been ripped away from him.

He didn’t know what to do, a large hole suddenly appeared in his life, and he felt like it was going to eat him whole.

You were the one thing in his life that gave him the strength and the courage to put up with whatever crap life was going to throw at him, and now he didn’t have that anymore.

He reached over and went to grab your coat, but he stopped himself, not wanting to get it dirty and he pulled his hand away.

“I need you (Y/N)…”

Because he did.

Greg Lestrade needed you in his life, because without you he had nothing good anymore

[softsnzstuff]

Thinking about an overworked detective who just caught a big break in the case having to stand out in the rain at night overseeing a crime scene investigation (or something) when he’s already got a bad cold 🤤🤤

——

I’m here to request this!! 🤭

Ask and you shall receive!! Getting back to my roots with some classic M/ystrade goodness.

Summary - D.I. Lestrade has caught the worst cold in a long time but he’s stuck working a new lead in the case thanks to Sherlock. Mycroft stops by and fusses. As per usual. 🥰

Dedicated to @snzagaba for encouraging me to write it and also to my lovely Anon for requesting 💕

The winter rain hammered the pavement all over London, icy winter chill freezing people to the bones. Most people were inside their warm homes at this time of night, but Detective Inspector Lestrade was out near a construction site.

Sherlock had informed him earlier that they needed to go to the site immediately and search for the discarded backpack that would lock up the suspects for good - nasty fellas involved in a brutal child murder.

Greg wasn’t sure how Sherlock always managed to do it, but he hadn’t been wrong yet. This time he was on about the way the suspect wore his belt. Had to give away that he worked construction in the side.

The consulting detective and his partner were standing under two umbrellas, Sherlock barking orders at the dog team. Greg was without umbrella, soaked to his shoes.

“HURRRDSH!!”

He snapped forward, water droplets flying off the soggy whisps of hair.

Sherlock shot him a glare that said ‘you’re interrupting my thinking’.

“Bless you.” John offered before turning back to face the scene with sherlock.

With Mycroft away on business this week, no one was around to tell him to get some rest. The DI had been working late nights at Scotland Yard every day this week, running himself ragged. By Wednesday he’d already started coming down with one hell of a cold. Donovan and Anderson avoiding him by Thursday.

The silver haired man used a wet hand to try and wipe the rain out of his eyes - an effort that was futile. He pulled an already damp tissue from his pocket and coughed harshly into it.

The cough sounded worse than it was - two decades of smoking seemed to have that effect on Greg whenever he fell ill.

“You’ll catch your death out here, Gregory.”

The man in question turned around and was met with none other than the British government himself holding an umbrella over them both.

“ii’GSHHH! Heh’RRRDSHUH!”

Mycroft huffed a sigh, always startled by how loud his partner could be.

“I thi’gk I already have…” Greg mumbled from behind the tissue. He blew his nose, practically turning it to confetti.

“For heavens sake Gregory, do throw that useless napkin away.” The younger man removed a clean and pressed handkerchief from his suit’s breast pocket and handed it to the detective who was already putting it to good use.

“H’eTCHiew!”

“Bless.” Mycroft pursed his lips as he strode over to Sherlock and John.

“Ah, brother. You’ve gained weight.” Sherlock quipped.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Could you perhaps hurry this up, brother dear. Detective Inspector Lestrade is unwell.”

“What Grant?”

“You know his name, Sherlock.”

The younger of the Holmes’ brothers shouted at the crime scene investigators who were digging in ponchos.

“Not there you idiots. Your other left!! For Christ’s sake Anderson, didn’t anyone teach you directions?? THERE!”

Right where sherlock pointed, someone hit something solid. After a couple people joined in the digging, it was unearthed as a backpack. THE backpack needed to crack the case.

“Detective, I think you’ll find the backpack was exactly where I’d thought. Inside you’ll found damning evidence that the banker did it all along for the insurance claim. We’ll be on our way now.”

Sherlock turned on his heels, John apologizing but following after him.

“Is that enough to get you home and into some dry clothes then?” Mycroft asked. “Anthea has the car ready to go.”

“Erm… let me make sure Donovan can handle this before I just snfff leave them…”

Mycroft made a note of his partner’s growing congestion. He’d prepare the humidifier later that night.

A few moments later, Greg was trotting back over through the rain.

“Alright, she’s got it. Don’t suppose the British government can summon me a towel?” He teased.

The window of the car rolled down and Anthea handed one over. It was warm as if it had just come out of the dryer.

“How did you-? Nevermind…”

“Don’t mumble, Gregory.” Mycroft ushered him into the back of the car. “Let’s tend to that cold of yours, shall we?”

[alcottsangel]

Sherlock Library

Touch and Go

A series of encounters with a certain sexy silver-fox Detective Inspector.

My Favorite Neighbor

Based on BBCSherlock Imagines: "Imagine making a gingerbread house together with Lestrade" and "Imagine baking Christmas cookies with Lestrade."

Love and Law

Greg is jealous of Mark Darcy.

The Death of a Bachelor

When Y/N had received a text inviting her to John Watson’s stag night, she didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not this. John was here, of course, Sherlock and Greg. No one else. She first thought other people would come later, but two hours in, they were still four, and she was wondering if they would stay that way till the end of the night.

Sherlock (BBC) Reader Inserts

Collection of reader inserts about the Sherlock BBC boys.

Sherlock One shots

Collection of reader inserts.

Sexy Times For Every Fandom

Your boyfriend, Greg Lestrade, convinces you to call in sick to work because he has different plans for your day.

[aworldofgoldfish]

Written for @mystradepromptsandscenarios "Are we out of the woods?"

360mg format

Or read in AO3 here

Deleted Data [G]

"Are we out of the woods?"

"I think we are strolling down the river in an Amazonian rainforest." 

"That bad?"

John shrugged before shaking his head. Sherlock, despite his brilliance, was often a dimwit. "A bit worse."

"Not good?"

"Sherlock..."

"It's not as if I can't..." He pouted, thinking the situation over. "Mycroft is patty under my fingers."

John considered it. Sherlock wasn’t wrong per se. "Then why...? No, you know what? I don't care. You may have Mycroft around your little finger, but his whole being is wrapped around Greg."

"Not an image I wanted to have, John."

"Well, the image I have is of assassins at the building in the opposite street, ready to shoot to kill."

"Mycroft wouldn't shoot me."

"You? Shoot to maim. Me? Certainly kill."

"Mycroft likes you."

"What? Really?"

"No, let me think about it. Truly, he tolerates you for my sake.” In the meantime, Sherlock, hidden behind the curtains, was staring outside the window for any threat. “What I don’t understand is when he became so emotionally attached to Lestrade. Greg’s a good man, and a steady…” he stumbled over the word. “‘Friend’, I guess, if one goes for such things, and apparently I do, but him being shot isn’t something to generate the kind of emotional reaction Mycroft exhibited in the hospital.”

“Sherlock, what?”

“Lestrade didn’t bleed to death, no major organs were harmed, no internal bleeding, no hit on the head. He’s going to be fine.”

“In half a year or so,” John interrupted him, eyes large as saucers.

“Yes, but still. Mycroft was acting derangedly. And that particular behaviour is always because of me.” 

John watched him stomping around the room, blue robe billowing behind him as if he was Snape. “It’s been years since Greg was added to the list of people Mycroft Holmes acts deranged for.”

Green eyes narrowed at him. “What? Why?

“I think it has something to do with the fact they have gotten married.”

“Who’s gotten married?”

“Mycroft and Greg.”

Sherlock stood right in front of him still as a broom processing the new -old deleted- data. “They haven’t.” Until… “Oh God, they've gotten married.”

[calaisreno]

The Client

936 words / Prompt: Secret

Mary looks at the chair. John can’t be serious. “Why?”

The look he gives her is terrible. She knows his temper, but this is the first time she’s seen Captain Watson, who could shoot a man and have no trouble sleeping afterwards. 

“Because that’s where they sit,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re a client now, Mary. That’s all you are. That’s where you sit and talk, and we listen and decide if we want you or not.”

Sherlock is looking sort of grey. She wonders how he managed to sneak out of the hospital and set this up. Was it really necessary? Did he not think that John would believe him?

Her husband—well, the marriage probably isn’t legal, and now that he knows he’s married to a woman who’s been lying since the day they met, he’s obviously not going to stay. Right now, he can’t even look at her. 

Sherlock nods at her. She’s not sure why he’s trying to help her. Or why she didn’t kill him when she had a chance. She was rattled, or she would have done it properly, and this conversation wouldn’t be happening. 

She thought she was finally safe. John is exactly the kind of man she would marry. If Sherlock hadn’t come back, they could have been happy. John is angry now, and it’s not all about her. He’s in love with Sherlock, and it’s something he can’t admit, even to himself. 

Maybe she should have simply disappeared. 

She still could.

“You know what?” She stands in front of John’s chair, glaring down at him. “Forget this bullshit. Open your eyes, John. This—” She pats her belly. “It isn’t real. There’s no baby.” 

He sits up, wide-eyed now.

She smirks. “Don’t pretend you didn’t suspect. You didn’t want to believe it, so you stopped paying attention.”

John’s speechless for a moment, then stammers. “But… why would you do that?”

“Without the baby, I would have lost you.” She turns to Sherlock. “Thanks, but I’ll handle Magnussen on my own.” 

Picking up her handbag, she walks towards the door. On the threshold she turns and gives her parting shot. “Pull your heads out of your arses, boys. See ya.”

John stares after her until they hear the door downstairs slam. He turns to Sherlock. “What the hell just happened?”

Sherlock tries to push himself up from his chair. “John… I think…”

Heavy feet are clattering up the stairs. John looks towards the door, where the paramedics have appeared. 

“Did somebody call an ambulance?”

Sherlock gasps. “Did you bring any morphine?”

A week later…

BBC News. According to Detective Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard, the investigation into the death of media mogul Charles Augustus Magnussen has turned up no clues to the identity of his killer, or how they came to Appledore, his residence. Security footage is being examined, but the killer obviously knew their target and took care not to be caught on camera. All leads will be pursued, he says, but it appears to be a professional job.

Months later…

“You know, Sherlock, we didn’t need to have such a big wedding.”

“Don’t say that to Mummy. It’s always been her ambition to plan one. And I’m finding I don’t mind it so much.”

“I don’t even know half of these people. Other than Harry, I assume they’re all your relatives.”

“Most are. And acquaintances. My parents have a lot of friends.”

“Mycroft looks… well, less dyspeptic than usual.”

“Every feast needs a spectre, John.”

“Oh, look, he’s talking with Greg. And he’s actually smiling.”

“Who?”

“Oh, give it up, Sherlock. Greg Lestrade.”

“Ah, yes. They do seem rather… friendly. Interesting…”

“Who’s the woman with the hair?”

“All the women have hair, John. Not a single bald woman in the hall. Oh, I see. Looks like a wig. Probably some mystery relative. She’s talking with my cousin Pansy. Mummy will know.”

“Not important. Just… she seems familiar. Look, here’s Harry. Glad she made it this time.”

“Harry! Come here—I need to dance with my sister-in-law.”

“All right, Sherlock—does this mean Johnny gets to dance with Mycroft?”

“Absolutely not! I’m not dancing with Mycroft, even if he’s secretly running the country.”

“Well, your loss. Come on, Sherlock. John says you’re a good dancer. Let me see you get your boogie on.”

“My what?”

“Mrs Holmes! This is all lovely. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, John! And please, you must call me Viola. Where’s your husband?”

“He’s dancing with Harry. Say, who’s that woman over there with the dark hair and large glasses? She was just talking with Pansy.”

��Oh… I don’t know, John. I thought she was one of yours.”

“No, she’s not. Oh, look, she’s leaving.”

“Honestly, who leaves a wedding early? Sherlock, do come here!”

“Yes, Mummy?”

“It’s your wedding! Dance with your husband, dear! I’m going to look for mine.”

“Gladly. Come here, John.”

“Sherlock, that woman—”

“Yes, John. I know.”

“Does Mycroft know?”

“He told me she was dead. But he’s been wrong about dead people before.”

“Why do you think she came here?”

“You mean, why did she crash our wedding? I think she just wanted to make sure you’re fine. That we’re fine.”

“Is this what she meant by ‘get your heads out of your arses’?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s not vengeful.”

“No, I don’t believe she is. And I don’t bear her any ill-will.”

“No? Hm. I do, just a bit. But tonight, I only want to think about you.”

“Do you? Then I’ll just have to keep your attention, won’t I?”

“You always do, love.”

--

All my May Prompts 2024 can be read on AO3 here.

[stellacartography]

My AO3 tabs this week*

*no guarantee that this will be a weekly thing but hey... worth a shot

Borderland by @keirgreeneyes and @hubblegleeflower

Rated E, Original Work, One-shot

Original works on AO3? It's more likely than you think. And this one is lovely and heartbreaking.

Peter and Emile, friends since boyhood, meet on opposite sides of the Great War. They steal one night to explore what might have been...

La Bête by @vulpesmellifera

Rated E, Mystrade (Sherlock Fandom), 13/23 chapters

Are you not following along with this Mystrade meets Beauty and the Beast based on Eros and Psyche? It's haunting and angst-ridden and boasts the tag "ENOUGH PINING TO FILL A CANADIAN WILDERNESS". I love reading WIPs; they're all the fun of weekly episodic television without the queerbaiting.

When Baron Mycroft Holmes violated the Law of Hospitality and angered a goddess, he was cursed to live his days as a beast... Gregory Lestrade is more than he seems, and it could be that he's hiding a curse of his own.

Don't Tell Mama by @amuseoffyre

Rated E, Our Flag Means Death, 136/139 chapters

Fyre's SMAU Burlesque Club AU is nearly at an end and now is a great time to start reading. Fyre's Stede and Ed are delightful.

When Stede Bonnet's marriage falls apart, he throws caution to the wind and follow a yearning to be a cabaret MC. Only, he's not quite ready to tell his family. What's a man to do? Well, lie and say he's invested in real estate on the other of the world, that's what!

Jim's Song by @copperplatebeech

Rated G, Good Omens (spoilers for season 2 if that's a concern), One-shot

The inestimable Copper is back with a little piece about everyone's favourite (?) retired archangel. Jim has no memory of Before, and these are his memories of After.

Everyone wants to leave a record, however modest or brief, of their existence. This is Jim's.

The Hayloft by @ewebie

Rated E, Mystrade, 34/38 chapters

The Farm AU in which Greg Lestrade is a French farmhand, has a cat named Terr, a fiesty friend named Camille, and tends the land that once belonged to Mycroft's Uncle Rudy and his partner René Faucher. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll be launched back to the days of high school French class. You'll want to visit the French countryside.

Greg watched the sky change through the trees, the sun dropping closer to the horizon. It lit the clouds with dramatic streaks of vivid colour. The cool damp of the air carried a whiff of the germinating seeds, the spring creeping into the grounds. At any other time, it would be his favourite season. He dropped down on his haunches and picked up a handful of the topsoil. It was ready. Nearly twenty years of work, and this was the year.

[starkraivennemad]

The Beginning Calm

D.I. Greg Lestrade put up with a lot for the services of "World's Only Consulting Detective" Sherlock Holmes. His biting sarcasm, vicious diatribes, and insults to his intelligence. And that was nice compared to what came out of the genius’ mouth when it comes to his team. Not to mention Sherlock’s near childlike glee in flaunting his often barely legal antics with the law. But he and the team, okay mostly just he, tolerated it. Why? Because like it or not - he did, his team did not – at the end of the day, the man got results. Sherlock got the results which got Greg the arrests needed to get criminals off the streets, and the solid convictions that kept them off.

It was not easy dealing with Sherlock Holmes, or his even bigger pain in the arse brother Mycroft but it was worth it. Still, Greg would not lie if he did not wish it could be a bit calmer in the chaos.

Thus, you could have knocked Greg over with a feather once John Watson entered the picture. In less than twenty-four hours of the doctor knowing the genius, Greg had started to note small differences.

Sherlock, when realizing he might have messed up, looked to John for guidance. “Not good?”

John, realizing Sherlock really did not understand, was patient, “Bit not good, yeah.”

Granted, Sherlock was back to his unthinking ways not even a moment later.

Sherlock: “Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you’d been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?”

John” “Please, God, let me live.”

Sherlock: “Oh, use your imagination!”

Greg noted how the doctor, with a mere look and a softly spoken rebuke, “I don’t have to…,” had Sherlock briefly taken aback for his thoughtlessness again. Greg could count on one hand how often that worked between him and Sherlock.

By the end of the night, Greg understood this doctor was only the beginning of something very different for Sherlock.

When a certain black sedan still idled at the curve, he knew what it meant. He walked up minutes later, hearing as the rear window lowered.

“So, have you warehoused him yet?” Greg asked.

“And good evening to you, Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Mycroft retorted drolly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Can’t prove it, don’t want to, but I know he just shot a man and that saved your brother’s life.”

“Interesting. For that I will answer your question, yes, he was warehouse earlier this evening. ”

“And he hadn’t go running for the hills after?”

“Neither had you, Lestrade.” Mycroft reminded him. “You, Dr. Hooper, Mrs. Hudson are the only ones to do so. ”

“What does not fear you, has what it takes to deal with your brother it seems.” Greg mused. “Watson calms him…”

“Him? John Watson, CALMS, my brother? That’s just not possible!”

“Don’t worry, your capricious little brother will always be a right prat. That’s never changing.” Greg turned to head back to the crime scene. “Goodnight, Mr. Holmes.”  

“I’m not done speaking, Inspector Lestrade.”

“Too bad, I have work to do. I’m done not listening to you.” Greg walked away smugly.

He heard Mycroft’s scoff as the window went up again. “Watson calms Sherlock? The inspector is mad!”

He could not fault the older brother’s disbelief, given they were talking about Sherlock. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction John and Sherlock had walked as if he still saw the long-gone men and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, he’s a prat, but I think someday, if we’re lucky with John, he just might become less of one.”

---------------------------------

Read / Comment on AO3

@calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 7: Calm

[mimisempai]

All those words I almost didn't say

Summary

After one of the most traumatic days of his life, Greg is about to take a well-deserved rest when the doorbell rings. The day is about to take a much happier turn.

Notes

Mystrade Monday  1.0  #46 - "I thought you were dead"

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On AO3

669 words - Rating G

"Detective Lestrade, after your bravery today, I want you to take a week's leave."

Greg, too emotionally exhausted, didn't even protest and nodded to the Superintendent before leaving his office.

An hour later, he was finally home, dressed in comfortable clothes, beer in hand, about to sit down when the doorbell rang.

He sighed, put his beer down on the coffee table, and looked through the glass to see who was there to bother him.

Seeing who it was, he muttered, "Damn it, Mycroft, I forgot to call him."

Words of apology on his lips, he opened the door, but he didn't have time to say anything because no sooner had he opened it than he found himself in a powerful embrace, pressed against Mycroft's chest.

"Mycroft, what..." he managed to articulate.

But Mycroft cut him off, saying in a trembling voice, "I thought you were dead. For a brief moment I actually thought I was watching you die live and there was nothing I could do."

Greg had never seen Mycroft like that, shaking, his throat so tight with emotion that he almost choked on the last words.

Greg managed to break free of the embrace and said quietly, "I know... thank my Kevlar vest for that,  I can imagine what it must have looked like from the outside. I'm sorry with everything that happened and the chain of events, I completely forgot to call you and I just got home."

Greg knew there had been a lot of media coverage of the hostage situation, but he'd refused to look at the footage. Who wanted to see themselves shot in the chest, even if it had been stopped by a bulletproof vest?

The bruise that began to form on his chest was proof enough.

He continued, "I promise I'm okay. I'm all right."

But Mycroft wasn't listening and said quietly, "Show me."

Greg lifted his shirt and showed him where the impact had occurred. 

Mycroft ran his finger gently over the small bruise and breathed, "I almost lost you."

Greg interrupted, "But you didn't..."

Mycroft put his finger to Greg's lips and interrupted, "Let me speak. I have to tell you."

Greg looked at him puzzled, but said nothing.

Mycroft took Greg's face in his hands and said firmly, "When I thought you were dead, I realized there was so much I wanted you to know that I hadn't been able to tell you. That these last few months with you have been the happiest of my life. That I don't want to spend another minute away from you. I'm in love with you, mightily, painfully in love. The things you do. The way you think. The way you move. I get thrilled every time I'm about to see you. I feel like I've never felt in my life. You have to know all of that."

No sooner had he finished speaking than he gave Greg no time to react, pressing his lips to his lover's in a kiss filled with the same intensity as the words he'd just spoken. Greg instinctively wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist, deepening the kiss. 

Every time Mycroft felt Greg trying to pull away, Mycroft would press harder against him and Greg would submit because he knew Mycroft needed it after the fear he'd just had of losing Greg.

He didn't even know how long it had been since Mycroft had pressed his lips to his. But it wasn't until they both felt they couldn't breathe that Mycroft slowly pulled away, just enough for them to catch their breath.

They were panting, mouth to mouth, their breath hot and their pulse quickening from the kiss they'd just shared. Greg swallowed several times before he could speak, finally able to respond to Mycroft's declaration and whispered under his breath, "I love you."

Mycroft embraced him again, holding him close, and they stayed like that for a long time in the hallway of Greg's apartment. 

They'd told each other everything.

The rest could wait.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

Mystrade Monday 1.0 : here

[myhearttonystark]

I have been trying to find a story since last few months. It's a mystrade story with a little Johnlock. Holmes brothers are orphans and Mycroft is raising up Sherlock along with his job. Sherlock is around 10 I think. They are living in 221B. Sherlock runs away from Mrs. Hudson and ends up at a crime scene deducting it. Mycroft comes running to find him where he fist meet Lestrade. There were 7-8 scenes. One where Sherlock has cold and his pediatrician is John's father. There they met John first time and Sherlock and John become fast friends.in another instance Sherlock runs away and both John and Sherlock end up on a bridge.

There were few scenes on Greg and Mycroft. In end scene Sherlock and John shift together some years but mycroft kept worrying and telling the same to Greg.

It was one shot I think. I would really really love to read it if anybody can find it. As I have already written, I have tried everything but couldn't find it. This is giving me a headache.

[ris-multi-fandom]

Here’s day 8 of Housevember22!

Fandoms: House MD, Sherlock

Pairings: Gregory House x James Wilson, Sherlock Holmes x John Watson

Characters: Gregory House, James Wilson, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson.

November 8th: Crossover

Wilson was woken in the middle of the night by a loud thud. He shot up in bed, looking around for the source of the sound.

”Did you hear that?” He asked his boyfriend who was asleep next to him. House grunted in reply. Another load thud followed by a man shouting could be heard causing House to sit up as well.

”I heard that,” he commented.

”Sounds like it’s the new neighbours,” Wilson grumbled, laying back down and pulling a pillow over his head. They heard yet another thud, “For God’s sake!” Wilson shouted, voice muffled by the pillow.

”Go tell them to quiet down if they’re bothering you that much,” House said.

”You go tell them,” Wilson countered.

”No, I want to work out what it is they’re doing first,” House replied, getting out of bed, “if they’re having sex then they can continue as long as I get to listen,” he headed through to the lounge and Wilson rolled his eyes before deciding to join him.

”Are you seriously going to put a glass against their door like a cartoon character?” Wilson asked as House grabbed two glasses out of the cabinets.

“No,” he said, “we are,” he handed Wilson a glass and quietly opened the front door, wandering over to their neighbours apartment, they placed the glasses against the door and held their ears up to them.

————

“Will you stop doing that!” John shouted as Sherlock launched yet another bottle rocket across the apartment.

”I’m bored,” The taller man replied, “It’s bad enough that Lestrade talked us into this in the first place but he wouldn’t even let me bring my jar of eyeballs with me. How am I supposed to experiment on eyeballs without said eyeballs?”

”How about you go to bed because it’s two in the morning!” John yelled.

”Sleep is boring,” Sherlock said.

”You think everything’s boring,” John grumbled before sighing, “look, just come to bed Sherlock, I’m tired,” John sounded defeated. Sherlock looked up at him from the next rocket he was assembling and took pity on his lover.

”Fine,” he replied, standing up and heading over to John.

”Thank you,” John said as Sherlock got to him. The taller man leant down and gave John a kiss, they headed over to the bedroom but Sherlock put an arm out and stopped John in his tracks.

————

“Sounds like they’re going to bed now,” Wilson whispered, “how about we go do the same?”

”The guy said he experiments on eyeballs, does that not interest you in the slightest?” House questioned.

”After knowing you as long as I have? No,” Wilson replied, “Now lets go to be-“ he was cut off as the door flung open, House and Wilson stepped back in surprise, almost tripping over each other in the process.

”Who are you?” Sherlock asked.

”I’m James, this is Greg, we live across the hall from you guys,” Wilson said.

”And do you make it a habit of listening in on all your neighbours conversations in the middle of the night or are we just special?” John asked.

“We were- er,” Wilson tried to come up with an answer when House cut it.

”What experiments were you planning on doing with eyeballs?” He questioned. Sherlock seemed taken aback by the question.

”Why do you want to know?” He queried.

”Curiosity really,” House replied. Sherlock looked him over before answering.

”I wanted to see the effect that different liquids have on decomposition, a man’s albi depends on it but they’re back in London whereas I’m here,” Sherlock explained.

”Are you a cop?” House asked.

”Consulting detective,” he replied, “the only one in the world.”

”Wait you invented a job just for you?”

“Yes, the police come to me when they can’t solve a case and I solve it for them,” Sherlock told him.

”That’s basically what I do but with medical mysteries,” House said, “Greg House,” he reached his hand out and Sherlock took it, “I’m the man who can get you some eyeballs.”

”Sherlock Holmes,” he replied, “How can you do that?”

”I work in a hospital, eyeballs get misplaced more often than you’d think,” House said.

”I’ve also been experimenting with the effect that maggots have on skin that has been sprayed with different types of perfume, got a dead woman who I’m sure has been dead for longer than the coroner’s say but they don’t take into consideration that the perfume she was wearing had been repelling maggots for the first few days of her death, thus slowing down decomposition,” Sherlock explained, “do you want to come see?”

”Of course,” House replied and the two men rushed into the apartment leaving their boyfriends standing in the hallway.

”What just happened?” Wilson asked.

”I’m not sure, but if your partner is as much like Sherlock as he seem to be then I don’t trust them alone in there,” John answered, walking into his apartment.

”Good call,” Wilson said, following the smaller man.

————

“Oh wow they are a sucker for that one,” House said, looking into a plastic container full of maggots and rotting flesh.

”They are,” Sherlock agreed, “and just like I thought, the one with the perfume my victim was wearing has barely been touched.”

”Which means they could have easily died a couple of days earlier if she was wearing enough of that perfume, maggots are a big part of decomposition,” House added.

”She practically bathed in it,” Sherlock said, “even with the smell of rotting flesh there was still a hint of perfume.”

”This is incredible, this could change the way police deal with murders in the future,” House said, incredulously.

”I know,” Sherlock smirked, “I have a tendency to do that, you should check out my blog ‘the science of deduction’.”

”Wait, that’s your blog?” House asked, “I’ve been following your work for years,” the two men continued to discuss some of the experiments Sherlock had performed as John and Wilson sat on the couch drinking beer.

”They’re like children at Christmas,” Wilson commented.

”Well Sherlock likes to show off so when he meets someone who actually enjoys that then he gets excited,” John said.

”Yeah, House doesn’t often meet people as smart as him,” Wilson told him, “to him everybody else are idiots.”

”They are practically the same person,” John chuckled.

”I can see this going badly,” Wilson said looking over at the two men in the kitchen.

————

“I’m going over to Sherlock’s tonight so don’t wait up for me,” House told Wilson as he popped his head into his office.

”Ok,” Wilson replied, an eyebrow raised.

”I managed to get those eyeballs he wanted,” House said, holding up the jar and grinning like a child.

”I’m not even going to ask,” Wilson commented, looking down at his paperwork.

”Good,” House replied, “bye love you!” He called out in a sing song voice before shutting the door.

————

Wilson was startled when he heard knocking on the door to the apartment he and House shared. He got up off the couch and opened the door to see John standing there.

”He got on your nerves already?” He asked.

”One of them is bad enough but two is a nightmare,” John replied.

”Come in then,” Wilson said, holding the door open for the other man.

“Thanks,” John said as he walked in.

”I was just about to put on a movie and order pizza if you want something?”

”Sure, sounds good,” John commented, “We should probably get some for those two, Sherlock wouldn’t eat if I didn’t force him too.”

”Yeah and House wouldn’t eat if it wasn’t something from off my plate,” Wilson chuckled.

The two men ordered pizza and sat in front of a movie once it had arrived. As the film was near to ending they heard a loud bang.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” John muttered as the two men rushed to the apartment next door. The stepped through the door and found House extinguishing a small fire in the kitchen as Sherlock was stamping on a blanket on the floor, presumably covering a fire that had started on the carpet.

”What the hell is going on!” John yelled and the two men looked over to their boyfriends.

”Nothing,” they said in unison.

”It doesn’t really look like nothing!” Wilson exclaimed.

”Science experiment gone wrong,” House said, “no biggie.”

”No biggie? The carpet was on fire!” John shouted.

”I put it out,” Sherlock replied.

”You’re both idiots,” John muttered, “and the play date is over, sorry Greg you’re going to have to go home, I’m going to bed,” John walked off to the bedroom and House limped over towards Wilson.

”It wasn’t my fault dad,” he said sarcastically to his partner as they left and went home.

————

Wilson awoke the next morning to voices in the apartment, he got out of bed, noticing that House had gotten up suspiciously early. He wandered out of the room and towards the lounge.

“So that’s why you’re in America?” He heard House ask.

”Yep,” he could here Sherlock’s voice before he saw them, the two men were looking out of the window.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

”Our neighbours next door have been sent here to spy on our neighbours across the road,” House said, neither of them looking away front the window.

”They have been linked to a group of assassins based in London, there’s a whole network of them around the world, and that apartment across the street is holding their New Jersey connection,” Sherlock explained, “they’re planning an assassination attempt on a British politician, I don’t care much for the man but they seem to be able to kill without leaving a trace.”

”You mean to tell me that we’ve been living across the street from assassins this whole time?” Wilson asked.

”They only moved in about a month ago,” Sherlock answered.

”Oh great, that makes all the difference,” Wilson commented, sarcastically.

”They’ve left,” House said suddenly.

”Great, let’s go grab John and check it out,” Sherlock told him and the two men headed to leave.

”Are you going to break in there?” Wilson asked.

”Will you try to stop us if we are?” House retorted.

”let me get dressed,” Wilson sighed and minutes later they were in Sherlock and John’s apartment.

“The heat sensor show’s that there’s no one in the apartment,” John told them.

”Good, let’s go,” Sherlock said and the four headed across the road.

————

“C’mon guys, we’ve been here for half an hour now and haven’t found anything,” Wilson said, looking through the blinds for the one hundredth time.

”It wouldn’t be obvious,” Sherlock replied, “it would be hidden somewhere that no one would think to look.”

“It would also be somewhere close to them,” House commented, “by the state of the couches this is where they spend most of their time.”

”There’s a rug under this coffee table, maybe something’s hidden under there,” John suggested, “here come help me move this,” Wilson came over and helped the smaller man.

“It won’t be there,” Sherlock said, searching the bookcases.

”Why not?” John asked, he pulled back the rug and saw there were no loose floor boards or secret compartments.

”Because, it’s here,” Sherlock replied, pulling out a book, he opened it and pulled out a small glass vial, tossing it to House “the rest of these books are old and worn, they were brought at garage sales and thrift stores for display purposes only, this ones brand new, it’s an expensive hardback book unlike the others, a hardback would be more protective than the rest.”

”Furanyl fentanyl,” House read off the bottle, “this drug doesn’t even need to be injested to kill you, just a small amount on the skin can cause someone to die.”

”So we’ve found the murder weapon,” John commented. Taking the bottle from House’s hand and looking at it.

”Um guys, I think we have a problem,” Wilson said, the other three men looked over to him, then over to the doorway that he was looking at. Three men stood there, watching them.

”I was going to say this isn’t what it looks like, but it’s actually exactly what it looks like,” Sherlock said.

————

“They’re going to kill us,” Wilson said, looking at the other three men who were tied up next to him.

”That is what assassins do Wilson,” House replied.

”Relax, they’re not going to kill us,” Sherlock stated.

”And how do you know that?” John asked, “they could come back in the room at any moment and kill us,” Sherlock was about to answer when the room was filled with blue flashing lights.

“How the hell?” Wilson questioned.

”Homeless network,” Sherlock replied, “when we got here I got accustomed with the local homeless population, they rotate outside our apartment building, they knew to call the police if I came in here and didn’t come out.”

”God I love you,” John said to him as police rushed into the building.

————

Wilson and House awoke the next morning to loud noises outside their front door. They headed out to go see what it was and saw John and Sherlock loading boxes into a van.

”Leaving already?” Wilson asked.

”Yeah, we were only here for this one case, so now we’re heading back to London,” Sherlock replied.

”That’s a shame, we’ve never had such interesting neighbours,” House stated causing the other two men to smirk.

“We’ll have to keep in touch,” John said, “maybe you guys could come and visit London at some point.”

”Definitely,” Wilson replied, “would be inhumane to deny House of another play date,” the four men all laughed before saying their goodbyes to each other, swapping numbers and making promises to meet up again.