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A Bit Not Good	By : VulpineBeesKnees Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2924 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Lestrade rang the buzzer again, and tapped his foot impatiently. John had about 35 seconds to answer this damned door before he knocked it down. Emergency or not, he had to make sure John was alright. The doctor and the inspector had become good friends before things happened to make John totally introverted. He had been able to share a pint or two with the man, and blow off steam about his needy and jealous wife, and John always had a good word or two for him, but after things happened with Sherlock, everything changed. The good natured soldier had gone, and he’d known the man hadn’t wanted his help. But he made sure it was always there for him, if he ever changed his mind.

Another buzzer push, 25 seconds now.

“Oi!,” John hollered as the buzzer went off again, as he was descending the stairs. Who the hell was this impatient, really. As he reached the front door of 221B he threw it open, a look of pure annoyance written across his face, “Who the blood-.”

His question was cut short as he opened the door to find a very anxious looking Lestrade waiting on the stoop. John glanced nervously upstairs, wondering if somehow he knew that Sherlock was back. Turning back to face the Detective Inspector John cleared his throat before speaking, “Oh Greg, I uh- I wasn’t expecting you. What’s going on?”

He put on a friendly smile, remembering just how poorly he had treated the man over the past three years. God, John thought to himself, he didn’t even know anything about Greg any more.

Lestrade had a hand on his pistol and glanced around the hallway. "Mycroft called. He told me you had an intruder. He said it wasn't an emergency, and I couldn't imagine an intruder you couldn't handle but..."

He started to push past John so that he could see inside the flat. "Is everything okay?" To be honest, Lestrade had missed their friendship. He missed being able to talk to the doctor, and listen and help him through his own troubles. "Don't try to tell me not to worry, Mycroft told me not to leave until I checked everything out. Will you let me sweep the house just to appease him?"

“Oh, for god sakes,” John started shaking his head, “Seriously can’t Mycroft just come deal with these things himself? What the hell did he send you all revved up for.” John had to grab Lestrade by his sleeve as he shut the door. “I’m sure he knows damn well who is here. And there’s no need to be trigger happy, in fact I’d rather you take your hand off the gun. Everything is fine here, just had a visit from... An old friend.”

Taking a few quick steps so he was ahead of Lestrade John hollered up stairs, mostly to warn Sherlock, “Greg’s here, apparently Mycroft sent him to check on us.” Then stepping aside he gestured for the detective to go ahead. “Try and keep your wits about you."

Greg turned and looked at John with an odd expression, but did as he requested, and took his hand off his gun. He trotted up the stairs, trench coat whirling, but what he saw stopped him in the doorway.

Sherlock, who had obviously heard John's call up the stairs had stood and moved to the middle of the room. Which was a good move on his part, because Lestrade's hesitation was only momentary, and then he was lunging at Sherlock, knocking him to the ground, then rearing back with a wild hand landing a heavy punch square in Sherlock's jaw.

John was only half way up the stairs when Lestrade pushed through the door, his limp slowing his ascent. He had just seen Sherlock standing in wait in the center of the sitting room for a moment before he was attacked. “Shit!” John cursed as he hurried up the last few steps.

"You filthy arse!!! What the hell are you doing! You're supposed to be dead!!" Sherlock had barely enough time to bring his arms up before the next blow rained down on him.

"You bloody prick! Do you know what you put John through, what you put all of us through!? WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?!??!"

Sherlock curled up trying to shield himself from the bigger man's blows. It had been a while since he'd been beaten like this. This must have been Mycroft getting back at him for his earlier comment.

“Lestrade!” John hurried to the centre of the room, pulling the man off of Sherlock, “This is keeping your wits?!” Pulling the larger man off of Sherlock he gave him a small shove in the opposite direction for good measure, settling himself in between the two. He glared pointedly at Lestrade, his shoulders pressed back. He was about a head shorter than the other man, but his intent was still apparent.

Before dropping to inspect the damage done to Sherlock, he nodded toward the kitchen and spat, “Go cool off.”

“As if I don’t have a enough to deal with without you two going at it,” John grumbled bitterly.
Lestrade felt himself bodily pulled from Sherlock and was surprised at the strength the smaller man possessed. He was shoved again and he straightened his coat as he paced in front of the doorway to the kitchen. "John, you need to tell me what's going on.... How long has he been back? Why aren't you angry?"

Sherlock laid his hand on John's arm, his face was already beginning to darken where Lestrade had struck him. His nose was bleeding and he felt a little woozy. But he didn't want John to be angry with the man. His eyes were bright and tried to convey his meanings.

"Don't be mad at him John. He has every right to be frustrated. And he's right... You should be mad at me."

"Damn straight!" the DI said, coming forward again towards the two, "You didn't have to see John in those first couple of months. Hell it still breaks my heart to see him like this, and you just waltz back into his life like nothing happened? Do you know how much John changed when you left? You should be ashamed of yourself you sorry sack of shite!"

Cupping Sherlock’s chin with one hand John turned his face this way and that, inspecting the damage. The words being thrown at Sherlock caused John to stand again, stepping towards the other man forcefully.

“That’s enough Lestrade.” He put as much venom into the words as possible. Sherlock didn’t need to know everything, he didn’t need to know just how far John had spiraled into depression. “He’s back. That’s why I’m not angry. And what the hell are you doing anyways? You Mycroft's gopher boy now?”

Deep down, he knew Sherlock was right. The man had a right to be pissed as hell, and John shouldn’t have been pushing him, but he couldn’t help it. He pressed forward, challenging Lestrade to say anything else derogatory about him.

Lestrade refused to back down, puffing up his chest. Friend or not, sometimes John didn't know what was best for himself. "Gopher boy? No, we have similar interests John. Your well being happens to be one of them. He must have known this tosser was back... That's why he sent me I bet..."

Sherlock could see John gearing up for a fight and called out softly as he sat up. "John..." He held his hand out towards the doctor. "Help me up please?" He asked. The words the detective inspector had flung at him had pierced him through the heart and they hurt. The worst part was that he knew he deserved every bit of it.

The men didn't back down until Lestrade's phone sounded. A females voice filled the room, causing Sherlock to raise an eyebrow at Greg.

Now that it's raining more than ever
Know That we'll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella
You can stand under my umbrella-Ella-Ella

Greg rolled his eyes and sighed, "Someone's idea of a joke..." He grumbled before checking his text from Mycroft.

May I assume you’ve met John’s guest? My apologies for not warning you beforehand. I simply felt he deserved a proper welcome from someone. I knew I could trust you to not coddle him. MH

The odd ringtone had served as a sort of comedic relief as John’s shoulders dropped slightly and he turned to help Sherlock up from the floor. Once he was on his feet John led him to his oversized arm chair and pushed past Lestrade, into the kitchen.

“Back with the wife then?” John called back, not really waiting for an answer. Who else would be changing his text alerts? He began rummaging through the drawers for a ziploc bag to fill with ice. In less than a minute he was back by Sherlock with a bag of ice wrapped in a kitchen towel.

“Try and stop the swelling,” he muttered, pressing it softly to the rapidly forming bruises and bringing one of Sherlock’s hands up to hold it in place. He turned back to Lestrade, the initial hostility gone. “Listen, Greg. I’m sorry for. . .” there wasn’t really a way to apologize for how he’d treated him the past three years. “for everything. I was out of sorts, obviously. Just- Thank you.”

The detective Inspector waved away John's apology, silently saying that it wasn't necessary.

"No my eldest Portia got a hold of my phone and changed all the text noises...she was determined to set a ringtone that fit each person in my contacts. When she asked about Mycroft I told her he always carried an umbrella...." He rolled his eyes.

Sherlock sat on the couch watching the exchange take place. As he looked at Lestrade, several things became quite apparent to him. No wedding ring, and the tan line was almost gone. He's gotten divorced, quite some time ago it seemed. However, there was a flush on his cheeks and the style of his hair and clothes told him a lot about his current interests.

"Have you found someone new then?" He asked, his voice coming out muffled around the ice at his jaw. "But the lack of feminine perfume and more than one cologne on you suggests that it's a man you've run to, not another woman...."

Lestrade blushed and stammered a reply, "That's hardly any of your business now is it?" He cleared his throat and turned back to John, deciding to acknowledge John's apology just to change the topic.

"It's alright..." He placed a hand on John's shoulder, "We all knew you were in a bad place. No harm done." He smiled as he looked down at John and a loud bang resounded behind them causing Greg to turn and look at where Sherlock had tossed the bag of ice down on the table.

“Bloody hell Sherl-,” John started, but he was cut off as Sherlock started in on Lestrade

"Are you going to continue ogle at my flat mate or are we going to get down to why you are here in the first place..." His eyes were sharp and his anger was starting to rise. There was only one person Lestrade had been obsessing over since his divorce and that was John. The detective wasn't sure why but thinking of the inspector fawning over John made him increasingly angry.

"Mycroft wanted me to give you a proper welcome..." He sneered back at the detective, "He felt John has coddled you too much since you came back apparently..."

Stepping in between the two, so as to break the venomous glares being shot at each other, John threw his hands up in frustration. “Can you two just behave yourselves? Honestly!” John shot Sherlock an incredulous look, clearly Sherlock was seeing something John wasn’t. Turning his attention away from the fuming brunette John continued, “I have not coddled him. And if Mycroft is so worried about Sherlock’s welcoming committee then why didn’t he come himself?”

"Because it's Mycroft..." Both men replied, which caused another round of glaring. Sherlock was at the point he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask the detective inspector for a case now. But the threat of boredom killed that thought before it had a chance to sprout.

"John and I were just talking about checking with you to see if you had a case..." Sherlock tried to sound pleasant.... He didn't.

"Not at the moment no..." He replied, the venom in his voice gone, "but now that I know you're back, I'll call you the moment I have something worth your time.." The phrase sounded snide, the detective inspectors rage not quite dissipated either.

Sherlock sighed. It looked like going to the grocery with John was unavoidable.

“It’d be much appreciated,” John added at the end of Sherlock’s defeated sigh. Then wanting to put as much space as he could between the two before tempers rose again John nodded toward the door. “Well if that’s all I’ll walk you out.” He didn’t want to seem like he was kicking Lestrade out, but seen as the two had finally begun to speak civilly he didn’t want to give either of them a chance to ruin it. Reaching the door in a few steps he held it open gesturing for the other man to go first.

He shot Sherlock a warning glance. John didn’t need him giving any more smart remarks. Plus this would give him and Lestrade a chance to talk without Sherlock leering at them from his corner of the room.

Sherlock threw a glare right back at John, but waved them off, opting instead to return to his room and burrow under the covers to think and maybe get a little more rest before John decided to go to the grocery.

Lestrade nodded to John and headed down the stairs towards the front door, and waited for John at the bottom. "Are you okay, I mean, really. Are you okay with him being back here? You were really messed up there for a while."

John followed close behind Lestrade, stopping to lean against the guide rail as the other spoke. “I am. Really.” John paused, drawing in a difficult breath, his hand swept through his hair, “I mean it’s hard, but he’s been through hell too Greg. I can’t just. . .” he shook his head defeated. “It’s insane huh?”

"No, it's not insane..." He said softly, "sometimes you do crazy things for the people you care about." He gave John a knowing smile, "Just... If you need anything, or if it gets to be too much... You have my number." He patted John on the shoulder and turned to leave, but before he was out the door he turned back.

"I'm glad he's back. I want you to know that. But seeing what he put you through... You can understand why we would all be upset that he just expects you to accept him back into your life like nothing happened.... Take care John." With that, he whisked out the door. He was on his way to have a very stern talk with Mycroft.

As the door fell shut behind Lestrade with a resounding snap John slipped to sit on the third last step. He understood where Lestrade was coming from, but at this point John needed Sherlock just as badly as Sherlock needed him. There was no way he could not let that curly headed shit back into his life.

He sat there for a few moments, letting everything that had just happened sink in. His thoughts moved to the comment Sherlock had aimed at Lestrade. He had known things were on the rocks with his wife so it made sense that they had gotten divorced at some point over the past three years, but a bloke? That wasn’t something John had expected to hear, but Sherlock was rarely ever wrong.

Letting out a heavy breath John trekked back up stairs to find the sitting room rather void of Sherlock. It didn’t take him long to find the detective curled up in bed, the covers tucked tightly around his shoulders. His breathing was slow and heavy, so John could only assume he was out once again.

John chewed at his lip, contemplating his next move carefully before letting out a quick breath, determined to make things right between the two of them. Even though he was still rather uncertain as to what right meant for them. He’d messed things up that morning with his knee jerk reaction, so it made sense that showing Sherlock he was comfortable with him should help fix the bit of damage he’d done.

Sherlock was facing the wall, so as John slipped into the covers he curled up behind the taller man, much like Sherlock had done to him the previous night. A little uncertain of himself John rested one hand on the small dip between Sherlock’s hip and ribs, and folded his other arm under his own pillow. John rested his head forward so the top of his head just grazed the point where neck met back, just above the collar of Sherlock’s shirt, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t really sure he’d be able to sleep, but at least he could relax like this.

Sherlock had been mostly asleep when he felt the bed dip down behind him, and a pleasant warmth settle against his back. A hesitant hand settled in the dip of his side, right above his hip just before a cool forehead pressed against the top of his spine. There was only one person that could touch him like that without feeling the need to shrink away from them.

"John?" He asked groggily, turning his head a bit towards the man at his back, "Everything okay?" He made no move to shift further than that. He was content to slip back into sleep if commanded by his resident doctor.

Nodding against Sherlock’s neck John murmured, “O’ course. Sorry for waking you, figured I’d join you for a nap before we go out for groceries.” The truth was John needed the contact. Talking to Greg had caused him to question everything again. The only thing he was certain of at the moment was that he wanted things to go back to normal, or as close to normal as they could get, with Sherlock. “Don’t mind me, just go back to sleep.”

Sherlock yawned in response and wriggled a little until he was comfortable, then all his muscles seemed to relax at once. Long slender fingers gently laid over the calloused ones at his hip and his thumb squeezed them softly.

"One more thing before I do." His voice was whisper quiet, "I still haven't really apologized for all of this. I don't really think there is a way for me to. But, for what it's worth... I am sorry that I hurt you. You didn't deserve it, whether I had to or not." It was obvious the DI's words had struck a chord in him. He pretended to fall back into his slumber, but the detective waited awake to hear his flatmate's response. He'd go to sleep after that he promised his heavy eyelids. Right after that...

John let his hand slip forward, so he was holding the thin torso to his own. The motion forced them closer together and he rested his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder. “There’s no need. I know.” He thought about saying that it was okay, that was what people were supposed to do right? When someone apologizes you accept the apology and and tell them everything was alright. Except everything wasn’t alright, not yet, and he knew better than to offer Sherlock empty words.

He pulled away for a moment, setting an alarm on his phone. Now that his body had relaxed, and he was wrapped up in Sherlock’s warmth he was sure to fall asleep as well. After setting the phone back on the small nightstand he moved back, pulling Sherlock against him and burying his face in the side of Sherlock’s curls. Breathing in the smell of his own soap that Sherlock had used earlier that day.

“I set an alarm for a couple of hours, get some sleep and then we can go shopping.”

Sherlock nodded sleepily. He knew things would take a while to be okay, but he felt like he could safely assume that they were progressing. He did fall asleep shortly after that thought crossed his mind.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Greg had barely made it to his squad car before another text came through.

How’s John? MH

Fuck you. You bloody git, I’m not saying another word until we talk in person. 15 min.

Greg was livid. Mycroft had used him in a childish game to get back at his brother, and he wouldn’t doubt it if the older Holmes had known Sherlock had been alive the whole time. He let out a growl and slapped at his steering wheel. How could the Holmes’ act so nonchalant about everyone else?

Pulling away from the curb, he sped his way to the ancient looking house that belonged to him. Once there, he stormed in, causing Anthea, the older Homes’ assistant to scuttle off in the direction of the kitchens. Feeling a bit dramatic, he shoved the doors open and stomped up to the desk where the man had the nerve to be watching the CCTV channels.

“What the HELL do you think you’re doing? Sending me in blind like that?” His voice was gruff as he slammed his fists down on the desk in front of him.

Mycroft calmly turned his attention to the DI, “I told you. John was far too gentle with him. Someone needed to make sure he was aware that he can’t simply return after three years without consequence. Honestly, if I had told you that Sherlock was back before you left, would you have attacked him the moment you saw him?” He raised his eyebrows in question as if that fully justified lying to Lestrade.

“I had expected John to show some sort of violence towards Sherlock last night, but apparently he’s easier to win over than I’d anticipated. How are they faring?” His tone was conversational. As if they were discussing something ridiculously simple. Lacing his fingers together he rested his chin on his knuckles, reminiscent of the younger Holmes thinking pose.

“You know how they’re faring. You watch them, and don’t try to tell me you don’t.” He threw his hands up angrily. “I know what you’re saying means sense to you, but you can’t just send me in all half cocked like that. I thought John was in trouble!” He looked away from Mycroft then.

“I’m not some hound dog that you can call ‘heel’ and I’ll be at your feet wagging my tail Mycroft...”

Mycroft’s eyebrows raised at the comment, “That was not my intention Greg.” He spoke softly, leaning forward over the desk a bit. “I told you he was in no immediate danger. Yes I can see them, but only in the sitting room, hardly tells me how they are handling this on an emotional level. Neither of them made it through the past three years unscathed, and I worry about them, especially John. He will protect and care for Sherlock at all costs, but my brother is not quite as capable of reciprocating the gesture.”

He paused, reaching across the desk to where the DI’s hands had fallen to lay his own over one. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you any sort of proper warning. You must understand I did not intend upon upsetting you.”

“You know I don’t mind doing things like this for you, but you can’t leave me in the dark. I can’t just be your trained gun, act first ask later. I know the nature of your job makes it easy to keep people out of the loop, but....” he trailed off, his fingers squeezing the other man’s as he looked up at him once more, “You just can’t alright? Because it makes me start wondering what else you’re keeping from me.”

The Detective Inspector had been embarrassed when the thought had first crossed his mind, but now he felt he had more resolve. He knew there had to be a certain level of secrecy, but sometimes he wondered if he really could trust the man sitting across from him, the man he deeply cared for and probably shouldn’t.

Mycrofts gaze dropped to where their fingers were intertwined, working through what Greg had said. He was not like Sherlock, he understood people and relationships in a way that dumbfounded his brother, but his ability to separate himself from those feelings seemed to cause more damage than good when it came to his own relationships.

Nodding softly he looked back up at Greg, “I’ll share what I can with you. I can’t promise I won’t hide anything, but I’m sure you understand that. Some things are outside of even my control, but I will not purposefully leave you in the dark.” It had been far too long since he’d had a real relationship before Greg had entered his life, his job simply did not make it easy to find or keep relationships. He did not want to push the detective inspector away.

“Forgive me?”

"You bloody prat, you know I can't resist you when you look at me like that." He let out an exasperated sigh and leaned over, kissing the older man's knuckles.

"Now come give me a proper snog before I change my mind"

A smile reached Mycroft’s eyes, the corners of his lips just twitching as he pulled his hand from Greg’s. He moved around the desk quickly so he was leaning against the front of it, forcing the DI back into the plush chair in front of his desk. Without a word he caught Greg’s chin with one hand, tipping his head back against the chair as leaned in to press their lips together. The hand resting under Greg’s chin slid back to cup his jaw, the other bracing against the back of the chair.

It was something that had become wonderfully natural to the elder Holmes. They had been seeing each other for the better part of a year. The two had started talking in an effort to take care of John, but the occasional text turned to phone calls, phone calls turned to dinner, and after that everything had fell into place. Anthea was the only person aware of their relationship, but it was easier that way, it wasn’t as if they had many people to share it with anyways.

The kiss was deep and passionate, an added bonus to upsetting his detective inspector, and when he pulled away, to Greg’s displeasure, he chuckled softly. “You brought the squad car. You left work to check on John.” He wasn’t asking, he had been watching the CCTV’s after all. He flashed a wicked grin before placing a chaste kiss to the now swollen lips. “You should probably be going then.”

"You're a right sodding tease you know that? Just for your cheek I should bring my work home with me." With a coy smirk he hurried out of the office, handcuffs clinging ominously as they dangled from his hip.

A/N:
We are super glad so many people are reading our fic, but we really want to hear what you think. Leave a comment with your thoughts on the chapter.

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A Bit Not Good