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calaisreno · 9 days

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Sixth Sense

885 Words / Prompt: Intuition

Molly notices.

She’s not really a friend of John’s. They're friendly, but she never has much to say to him. He’s kind to her, and probably aware of how she felt about Sherlock.

As one of the few who knows Sherlock is alive, she has a terrible advantage over John Watson. Not the one she used to wish for.

They met in her lab, when Mike Stamford came looking for Sherlock, to introduce him to John. Well, nobody introduced her. Sherlock was fixated on her lipstick for some reason. She remembers John’s eyes on her, then turning to focus on Sherlock. That was the day she finally figured out that Sherlock wasn’t interested in her. In time, her crushing disappointment was lessened by the realisation that he was gay. It wouldn’t have mattered what shade of lipstick she wore or however many coffees she brought him; he would never look at her the way he looked at John.

At first she thought John was straight. After her blunder with Jim from IT (who turned out to be not only gay, but also a criminal) she consulted her friend Jasper, another gay man. “How can you tell?”

Asking this, she wasn’t thinking about Sherlock, or even Jim. What she was wondering about was John, who sometimes looked at Sherlock as if he’d hung the moon, but still dated ridiculous women.

Of course men have different taste in women, just as women prefer certain types of men. She was attracted to men like Sherlock— tall, pale, Byronic hair, blindingly intelligent. Men who entered rooms with a swirl, who spoke with voices that made her shiver. They were hard to find, and to expect such a man also to be kind, romantic, and not gay was apparently too much.

John dated women who were a bit out of reach. Taller women, confident women, the kind who didn’t need the right lipstick to be noticed. The kind who didn’t own three cats and spend the holidays with their ageing mother. These unobtainable women never lasted more than two dates. And he never seemed to mind.

John is not Molly’s type. She appreciates his abilities as a doctor. He has the right manner with Sherlock, a bit snarky, but not mean. He’s not tall, not gracefully slender. He has a temper. He’s blond and a bit sweary, good-looking in an average way, an ordinary bloke who goes out for pints with people like Greg Lestrade and Mike Stamford.

She’d barely noticed him that day in the lab. He’s a man who doesn’t stand out, who completely disappears in the shadow of a man like Sherlock.

John and she are that awkward thing: friends of friends. He would never introduce her as, my friend, Molly. It would be Sherlock’s friend, Molly. If he asked a favour of her, she would do it because Sherlock would appreciate it, not because she feels any obligation to John.

She doesn’t hate him, or wish anything bad on him. She might have felt jealous for a few days, simply because Sherlock never forgets John the way he forgets about her the minute she’s out of his sight.

She noticed him watching John, usually when he wasn’t looking. He looked sad. And she thought, I know what that feels like.

The memory of that look weighs on her, weeks after Sherlock’s funeral. A hard day, that was, sitting in a pew trying to fake sadness as she watched others grieve.

As she watched John grieve.

What does it mean that John Watson looks like he’s lost everything? She sees him at the hospital sometimes, his hooded gaze avoiding the eyes of others, his psychosomatic limp making him wince with pain.

She can’t say what it is that tells her. Maybe she’s just practiced for so long on other men that she’s developed a sixth sense about it.

John loved Sherlock— not just as a friend. And he’s probably just now realising that. She supposes that quite a few men dismiss those feelings of attraction. Jasper says, all men are gay, potentially. It’s just easier to stay in the closet.

There are various reasons for that, and she doesn’t want to speculate what John’s are, but she observes his grief, and knows regret is a large part of that.

Sherlock will be back, someday. He wasn’t very clear about when. Six months, maybe a year. But she thinks he’s being optimistic; he wants to come home to John, not leave him to grieve for years.

And by the time he does make it back, John will have found another woman. Blonde and pretty. Nothing like the dark beauties he used to date. But still, clever like Sherlock, a bit imperious and demanding. He will look at her the way Sherlock always looked at him, when he didn’t notice.

She could tell him. There’s only her promise to stop her from doing that. Could John keep the secret? Sherlock told her not knowing will keep him alive, that knowing would put him in danger.

She’s not in danger. Nobody thinks she mattered that much to Sherlock. Her feigned grief is taken as real, but everybody knows she’ll get over it. Just a crush.

As for John Watson, this might just kill him.

That’s a problem she could solve.

#mayprompts2024 #POV Molly Hooper #sixth sense

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gomielka · 1 month

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My WIP is still a WIP but it’s coming along !

I posted a new chapter of my WIP and if you would like to read it and comment it or leave kudos I would be thrilled !

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes, Molly Hooper, Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson (Sherlock), Irene Adler (Sherlock Holmes), Jim Moriarty, Mike Stamford, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Sebastian Moran

Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, First Time, First Kiss, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Rock Stars, Young Sherlock Holmes, Young John Watson, BAMF John Watson, Protective Sherlock Holmes, Work In Progress

Language: English

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #johnlock #ao3 fanfic #sherlock fic #johnlock fanfic

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mizjoely · 1 year

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Maybe the start of something, maybe this is all there will be

Inspired by this post. (First two lines come from that post.)

A faerie introduces himself. Then, holding out a hand, asks, “And your name, please?”

And, like a fool, you give it to him.

(You didn’t know he was a faerie at the time, how could you have? And even if you did, it’s likely you’d still have given him your name. How could you not? The rock solid fact that by doing so you have given him the same power over your soul as if you'd made a deal with the devil is almost immaterial.)

“Molly,” she says, holding out her hand and smiling awkwardly.

He cocks an eyebrow, tilts his head in a questioning manner. “Just…Molly?”

You blush. “N-no, of course not!” you titter, even more awkwardly. “Molly Hoo - Molly Anne Hooper.”

You wonder why you felt so compelled to give him your middle name as well, but as he takes your hand and murmurs, “Molly Anne Hooper,” as if your name has given him some clue to a mystery that intrigues him (oh how apt THAT metaphor will turn out to be!), your mind sort of…blanks out. Because his hand is cool but the feel of those long, elegant fingers clasping yours is like an instant immolation, a chemical reaction going from cold to hot in a split second.

The heat is in more than your hand, but you sternly tell both your fluttering heart and nether parts to calm down.

(They never really do.)

“Sherlock Holmes,” he replies, his lips quirking in a slight smile, as if sensing your reaction (or, you’ll muse once you know him a little better, as if deducing you to the very core).

You smile back. He retrieves his hand, smoothly turning as he removes it from your grasp, and a slight frown furrows your brow as you watch that smile vanish as quickly as it had appeared. As if he’s only put it on for politeness’ sake, and you give yourself a mental shake and tell yourself of course that’s all it was.

Why would someone as devastatingly handsome, as charismatic, as this man take more than a polite interest in you?

(Once you realize that intelligence - genius - is actually his most devastating characteristic, you berate yourself for your foolishness even more. You’re ordinary, why would someone like Sherlock Holmes take ANY notice of you?)

Mike Stamford is nattering cheerfully about his new - protege? Friend? Oh, neither, you realize as his words start to penetrate the mental fog into which you’ve fallen. A new colleague of sorts, some kind of consultant working with NSY and that dishy silver fox of a detective, Greg Lestrade. The one you crushed on right up to the very moment you looked into Sherlock Holmes’ gorgeous, blue-green eyes with those mysterious flashes of silver you later decide you must have imagined at that first introduction.

(The curls, the cheekbones, the perfect Cupid’s bow lips, at least you know all of THOSE are real. Sorry, Greg, that perfect smile and short crop of silver hair simply can’t compete.)

That never goes away, that first breathless feeling of ‘Ohhh’ when you first looked into Sherlock Holmes’ eyes, even after he opens his mouth and proves just what a snotty, self-centered, cold-hearted git he can be.

(Then again, once you know the real truth about him, the truth buried so far beneath his conscious mind that even he’d forgotten it, you realize he never really was as good at imitating humanity as he so vainly thought he was.)

#sherlolly #mizjoely writes #mizjoely's fics #we'll see if i go anywhere with this or not

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 years

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Five Fics Friday: June 24/22

Hey All!

It’s a holiday Friday for me today, so I’m just happy to be able to enjoy a day doing dick all, and possibly reading some new fics :) Hope you enjoy today’s selection of fics to get you through the weekend :)

Enjoy!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

(Ex) Love Letters Series by Biana_Amberly_Vacker (T, 4,197 w. across 3 works || Angst, Poetry, Getting Back Together, Love Letters) – John and Sherlock used to love each other. Even after everything, maybe they still do.

RECENT MFLs

The Romance Was There by apliddell (G, 4,011 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Post Mary, Christmas, Domestics, Villain Mary, Platonic Bedsharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Letters) – In which Sherlock reveals his merits as a housekeeper, and a few other things, too.

The Fix by peg22 (E, 24,730 w., 8 Ch. || Pre-TGG, Background Pre-Mystrade, Humour, Angst, Drug Addiction, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Case Fic, Bathroom Sex, Bathing/Washing, Panic Attacks, BAMF Lestrade) – Sherlock goes out to buy milk and disappears. Lestrade fears it's the past coming back to haunt them - Sherlock buried in a bolthole getting high. Mycroft tends to agree. But John believes that Sherlock would never disappear without telling him.

From Here to There and Back Again by thegildedbee (M, 36,045 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || First Kiss, Fluff, 221B Baker Street) – An alternative first meeting for John Watson and Sherlock Holmes -- with conditions that are close to how it goes according to canon, but, well, not exactly. There is still Mike Stamford and Bart's and Mrs. Hudson and 221B, but Sherlock and John first meet when John is already in residence at Baker Street (at the bottom of the stairs, rather than at the top), courtesy of Mike and Mrs. H putting their heads together about how to coax two skittish recluses to venture forth and spark joy. Assistance lent by Mycroft Holmes, Molly Hooper, Greg Lestrade, Angelo, and Pendragon the Cat. Things may not always go quite smoothly, but over the course of a month, it's just a matter of degrees of fluff until John and Sherlock end up where they should be.

6 Simple Rules For Dating John Watson by prettysailorsoldier (M, 81,958 w., 22 Ch. || Teenager / University AU || Cheating, Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Roommates) – John Watson's love life may have had its ups and downs, but at least it had some structure. That is, until Sherlock Holmes showed up on his doorstep.

#johnlock fic recs #five fics friday #my fic recs

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ao3feed-mystrade · 5 months

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Breaking Barriers

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52995010 by Lithey, Puzzl3cat John, an omega, meets Sherlock, an alpha, through a mutual friend. They, surprisingly, develop a close relationship very quickly, both within and outside Sherlock's work. Together, the pair, along with their friends, work on breaking the barriers set by society for omegas, alphas, and everything else that has tied them down or held them back. --- This is an ABO, semi-canon-compliant story with edits made by the writers as we felt fit. Words: 9746, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Sherlock (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes), Molly Hooper, Mike Stamford, Original Characters, Philip Anderson (Sherlock), Sally Donovan Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Omega John Watson, Omega Mycroft Holmes, Alpha Sherlock Holmes, Alpha Greg Lestrade, Omega Mrs. Hudson, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Canon meeting, Canon Compliant, Canon compliant somewhat read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52995010

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #mystrade #mycroftxlestrange

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musingsofmyown · 1 year

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I posted 7,664 times in 2022

That's 7,664 more posts than 2021!

636 posts created (8%)

7,028 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@britsgovernmentmh

@loki-lock

@tjlcarchives

@december-rains

@helloliriels

I tagged 5,713 of my posts in 2022

Only 25% of my posts had no tags

#bbc sherlock - 336 posts

#sherlock holmes - 318 posts

#john watson - 301 posts

#johnlock - 215 posts

#yes - 157 posts

#mystrade - 142 posts

#mycroft holmes - 140 posts

#greg lestrade - 116 posts

#sherlock - 103 posts

#sherlock fanart - 87 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i get so obnoxious and i've had someone say ''i never hear you talk and i love that you're finally talking. but please take it down a notch

My Top Posts in 2022:

'Emergency meeting: Landing Pub 7:45 tonight. Leave Sherlock at the flat'

"Oh boy-"

"Text from Lestrade? Is it a case?"

John handed his phone to Sherlock,"No but he used correct punctuation, grammar and capitalisation. He's serious."

"Why can't I go?"

"I don't know-" He took the device back,"Guess I'll find out later tonight?"

______

At the pub-

______

"Hey Greg, is everything alright mate?"

They shook hands,"I just really, really need to talk to someone about this and you're quite possibly the only one who can understand my situation."

"This calls for the strong stuff," He flagged the barkeep down,"Two fingers of whiskey neat for me and three for him on the rocks."

See the full post

202 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

I've had a wonderful idea for a crack fic:

Sherlock breaks into Mycroft's house with John. Reason: they have a case question that needs to be answered and Mycroft isn't answering his phone or email.

They make their way to Mycrofts room, flipping the light on and Sherlock yelling,"Brother! Good morning!" it is, in fact, 4:10 in the morning.

Instead of just Mycroft sitting up and glaring at Sherlock, but Lestrade also sits up and they both look like caught teenagers.

John looks at Greg,"Mate, we need to go out for a pint and you better spill everything am I clear?" He was just as surprised as Sherlock, who was now frozen in his tracks,"I'm taking him home to recover, Mycroft answer your bloody phone."

chaos ensues

224 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

Genuine

"Sherlock," John locked eyes with the detective,"you are bloody gorgeous."

A very prominent blush crept up the other's neck,"I-I erm…"

"And adorable, look at that,"He leaned forward and smiled. John knew for a fact that he was one of the few people who existed that could actually catch him off guard, and by god this had to be the best way to get those gears in the detective’s head to stop.

Sherlock broke eye contact and tapped nervously on the table,"You're getting too direct with your flirting."

"So you've noticed?"

He nodded and looked around the room, still refusing to look at John,"So- uh, what,” Sherlock cleared his throat, the telltale signs of embarrassment peeking through,”what brought this up?"

"It's just been eating me up for a bit,"He propped his head up on his hands,"And I'd… I’d like to kiss you."

Those few words caused Sherlock's entire system to malfunction, a small sound of shock barely escaped his lips. For a moment, John found it rather endearing that his friend was an actual blushing virgin, but as soon as the spell broke, he wondered what the consultant's response would be,"Me..?"

"Yes, you."

See the full post

242 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

What if- and hear me out on this one- John and Sherlock knew each other from school, but met again years later when Mike Stamford introduced them?

And the moment John entered the room he goes "Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes is that you?"

Hearing his name called by the familiar voice, he looks up,"Oh! John-" he takes a second to do his little deduction thing,"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Bloody hell you still do the thing after all these years,"He goes to hug Sherlock, which he kindly takes,"and it was Afghanistan, you git."

"Thank you for finding a flatmate, Mike, I think we'll get along splendid."

As the two start reconnecting, Lestrade comes to the flat to give Sherlock a case- but he's both delighted and confused as to why the typically isolated consultant was laughing, with another person in the room. It was a real laugh too, not like the fake ones he's heard the brunet use when talking to suspects/wittnesses.

He knocks on the door and Sherlock opens it, smile still on his face,"Ah, Lestrade, case?"

"Ya, erm, who's your friend,"He grinned and looked to the blond man sitting in the armchair across from Sherlock's

"Oh," he let the DI in,"Lestrade, this is John, John Watson."

John stands to shake his hands,"Sherlock told me about you, and how he's working with the police on the tougher cases. I'm impressed by how much progress he's made since I last saw him."

"You two... know each other?" Greg, baffled by the connection.

"We're old friends-"

"Ex-partners actually,"John corrected, making a slight blush creep up the taller man's neck and cheeks.

"Lestrade! Case, please-"

"Right,"He chuckles.

Oh this would be an amazing fic-

I think I should write this one sometime

363 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Rupert Graves as Greg Lestrade is arguably the best choice of cast next to Benedict and Martin

fight me

he's perfect

437 notes - Posted May 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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ao3feed-sheriarty · 2 years

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Professional Soldiers

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SFRrkoH

by JohnlockedGoth13

May I present- the crossover no one asked for- some unholy combination of Scottish Captain Watson and Private Holmes in the Dog Soldiers werewolf film universe. You don't have to know Dog Soldiers to read this, it helps, but it can stand on its own as a werewolf/military AU. Idfk mate I just work here. My brain spouts the shite and my fingers type, that's all I ken.

Words: 1807, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Irene Adler (Sherlock Holmes), Greg Lestrade, Jim Moriarty, Mycroft Holmes, Philip Anderson, Sally Donovan, Spoon Witherspoon, Molly Hooper, Mike Stamford

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Greg Lestrade & John Watson, Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Philip Anderson/Sally Donovan

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Horror, Werewolf Turning, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Scotland, Captain John Watson, Alternate Universe - Military, One-Sided Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, one-sided irene addler/sherlock holmes, Blood and Gore, Gore, Violence, BAMF John Watson, BAMF Sherlock Holmes, BAMF Jim Moriarty, BAMF Irene Adler, Werewolf John Watson, Werewolf Sherlock, Werewolves, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, or in this case Scottish, John Watson in a Kilt, Kilts, Swearing, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Protective John Watson, Dog Fighting, lol get it dog fighting cuz they're wolves, Wolf Instincts, Molly I am so sorry my love, Trans Male Character, Trans John Watson, Character Death, Death, Death does not refer to Johnlock no worries, Body Horror, Dark Comedy, Dark Fantasy, Mutual Pining, Gay Baby Sherlock Holmes, Bisexual John Watson, Dom/sub Undertones, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Dom John Watson, I don't think the boys are gonna get it on in this fic but the D/s undertone is more of an over tone, Gallows Humor, Trauma

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SFRrkoH

#ao3feed #fanfic #sheriarty #sheriarty fanfic

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ao3feed-irenelock · 2 years

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Professional Soldiers

Warning: Some M/M works might show up here because the Sherlock/Irene tag is used in ref to S/I as a side pairing, past pairing, etc. Currently there is no way to filter and exclude feeds on Ao3 to get only S/I F/M works.Solution. Read at your own risk.

by JohnlockedGoth13

Words: 1807, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Irene Adler (Sherlock Holmes), Greg Lestrade, Jim Moriarty, Mycroft Holmes, Philip Anderson, Sally Donovan, Spoon Witherspoon, Molly Hooper, Mike Stamford

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/40447857 via AO3 works tagged 'Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes' https://archiveofourown.org/works/40447857 Remember to check out http://adler-holmes.livejournal.com

Need an Ao3 invite? Don't want to wait? Get one via LiveJournal or Dreamwidth

#irenelock #adlock #sherene #shirene #sherlock holmes #irene adler #ao3feed

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savvyblunders · 5 years

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Soft Smut Sunday {Stamstrade}

Holding open the door for a group of youngish women dressed in seasonally-inappropriate, flimsy dresses, towering heels and banging into one another in their tipsy mirth, Mike Stamford smiled sympathetically. He remembered those days. Going out with mates, on the pull, hopping from club to club, seeking excitement and a connection. Suppressing a regretful sigh--his days of easy sex were far behind him, never mind a connection--Mike stepped inside and scanned the room.

Greg had been texting him for a while, begging Mike to come out. Keep me company, mate, pleeeeease? I'm at least 25 years older than anyone in here. Keep us from looking like an old creeper.

Mike had held out against Greg's pleading until Greg finally sent him a gloomily lit selfie. His brown eyes were tragic, lower lip thrust out in a pout and Mike had laughed and texted that he was on his way. It wasn't so much the pic, although Greg was adorable, but the texts had become increasingly melancholy and misspelled. It was obvious Greg was absolutely squiffy.

This was a hard time of year for him. Mike had been his friend long enough to know. It had been nine years ago in another cold March that Greg's criminally stupid ex had been unmasked as a serial cheater. Almost exactly a year later they finally called it quits; all of it, the therapy, the endless fights, the guilt and the paranoia and the sham marriage.

Through it all Mike had been there, a steadfast rock for the man he'd long ago lost his heart to. He would never, ever in his life understand how Kelly Lestrade had had a chance at happiness with Greg and had chosen to throw it away with both hands. The heartbreak of listening to Greg ramble on about the destruction of his marriage, and the eroding of his self-confidence had nearly done Mike in. So many times he had longed to put his arms around his best friend and assure him that no, of course he wasn't unlovable. To tell him just how very loved he was.

But that wouldn't have been the action of an honourable man, nor a good friend. Greg was vulnerable, needy, and he didn't need or want an unsolicited advance from the one person he thought he could depend on. Besides, he was straight, and Mike had been down that hopeless road too many times in the past. No, he wasn't desperate for love, but he was desperate to hang onto the best friend he'd ever had. A little of Greg was better than no Greg at all.

So it had come as a complete shock nearly two years after Greg's divorce decree became final when Mike found out that not only was Greg in a relationship, but it was with a man. That was about all he did know. Greg kept it on the extreme down-low. Not so much because he'd wanted to avoid shocked reactions or possible negative effects.

No, the reason was that "he" was some sort of posh, secretive, high mucky-muck who didn't want anyone knowing about his private life. Mike had feared that Greg's mystery boyfriend was hiding their affair from his spouse, but it appeared that the reason was due more to his career than anything.

Mike supposed he couldn't speculate on the reason another bloke flew under the radar, but if Greg had been his, Mike would have shouted it from the rooftops. Who wouldn't brag about having won the love of Greg Lestrade?

In the end Mike figured that he was one of the very few people who even knew that Greg had had an on-again-off-again affair with the mysterious "he" for nearly five years. He'd been the sole person (that he knew of) allowed into the inner sanctum of Greg's delirious, devastating rollercoaster of a relationship. Mike had had front row seats for the fallout every time Greg's fella had suddenly cut him off. Putting a comradely arm around Greg's shaking shoulders, Mike had schooled his face into an uninvested sympathetic look as Greg cried out his anguish.

He'd summoned enthusiasm when a glowing Greg would show up for their weekly "beer and bitch" fests with a sparkle back in his eyes, and an ebullient chuckle underlining his voice because once more the thick-headed bastard who jerked him about had showed up in "one of his posh cars" outside the Met, or Greg's local, or Greg's flat. Every time Greg would get sucked back in, swearing that this time it would be different.

"You don't know him like I do, Mike," Greg had defended hotly the one time Mike had summoned the courage to give him a piece of his mind over the unhealthiness of Greg's situation. "He's...private. But he loves me, I know he does." He sounded stubborn, as if he was convincing himself as much as Mike. "I haven't felt like I mattered to anyone like this in...years." A shadow had crossed his face as he thought of Kelly's unfaithfulness.

You matter to me, Mike had wanted to howl. I'd never treat you like this, make you doubt yourself every time I got scared or bored or whatever this bloke gets when he tosses you over.

That was all over now though. Mr Posh Cars and Posh Suits had finally hurt Greg enough that he hadn't been willing to go back. All Mike knew was that Greg had been crushed. Pale and chain-smoking, sleepless nights and too much coffee. And always, always Mike there to pick up the pieces.

Sometimes over the years Mike's sister Bev would rail at him for being a masochist. "Tell him how you feel or walk away, Mike! You're eating your heart up over him and it's sick... I can't stand seeing you hurt like this."

Mike just couldn't though. Greg meant too much to him.

Any road, this was a dangerous time of year for Greg, who had ended things with Mr Mystery just over a year ago. His drinking took on a depressed edge, and his thoughts would twist inwards. Mike normally tried to keep him busy, keep him cheerful, but this year he was fighting his own demons. Bev had succumbed to late-stage cervical cancer a few months back.

Now Mike was all alone in the world, the last of his family who had been willing to acknowledge him gone. In his darkest moments he'd thought bitterly that now Bev was gone there was no one in the world who loved him.

People still cared for him, though, Mike was reminded, when he walked toward Greg's small table and saw his best mate's face light up. Raising a hand in greeting, Mike gestured towards the bar and mimes getting a drink. Pint in hand he worked his way politely through the crowd until he reached Greg's side. Greg got to his feet with eagerness, if not grace, and flung happy arms around him.

"Mi compadre," he joked joyfully, giving Mike a squeeze and tugging him down to sit on the tiny curved bench with him. Mike had been going to sit on the stool next to the table, but Greg wasn't bothered about keeping a careful distance. Of course he didn't have anything to hide.

"M'glad you came," Greg said, eyes shining. He patted Mike's arm happily, smiling at him. "Those louts were eyeing my booth but I gave 'em a proper fuck off look and wouldn't budge."

"Better drink up fast then," Mike laughed, unzipping his jacket. It was too warm in the pub with the heat on and the close press of the animated crowd. He pushed a tall water in front of Greg, "For you."

"I've a pint," Greg said gravely, indicating his mostly empty glass.

"Have to stay hydrated," Mike informed him, "if you want to avoid a hangover. Doctor's orders."

Greg blinked absurdly long eyelashes at him almost flirtatiously, "Yes, doctor."

Mike sipped his pint and looked out at the pub. It wasn't safe to gaze too long at Greg, in case he noticed Mike's eyes lingering wistfully on him. Inebriated though he might be, Greg was still an excellent detective.

Polishing off his pint, Greg sipped at his water, rolling his eyes with a good-natured smirk at Mike's look. Pretending to be very cowed, he gulped at it. "Better?"

"Ta," Mike said, smiling. "Much better...dont want to hear any whinging about your old arse feeling like shit tomorrow because you didn't practice sufficient self-care."

"If I feel crap you can come take care of me," Greg said, tracing a finger through the condensation on his glass. Glancing up at Mike he said in a low voice, "We can play doctor."

"What?!" Mike choked a little. He couldn't have heard Greg right. It was noisy and he was fanciful.

"Your order," announced the server, popping up next to them with a tray. She put a coffee cup down, filled it with steaming brew and then placed two baskets of chicken and chips on the table.

Reaching for the brown sauce, Mike concentrated on dressing his forbidden food. Unfortunately when he got depressed he ate. And right now he felt like he could eat both baskets. Nudging the other towards Greg, he pushed the ketchup closer, "Eat, you'll feel better in the morning if you get something in your stomach. And get that coffee in you."

"You're so good to me," Greg sighed, putting an ungodly amount of tomato sauce on both his chips and his chicken. Mike thought it was disgusting, but somehow still adorable. Oh yeah, petal, he heard his sister's wry voice in his head, you've got it bad.

Companionably they ploughed though their meal, exchanging occasional comments about the prospects for the Premiere League, eyes on the telly over the bar. An old World Cup match was showing, and the two of them were football enthusiasts enough that they watched it as though they'd never seen it. Though in fact they'd watched it when it first aired, sprawled out on Greg's sofa, shouting at the screen and tossing back too many cans of lager.

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

Greg not wanting to be alone, and Mike being unwilling to trust him to a cab at that time of night and in his still slightly loopy condition, ended up back at Mike's. "I'll just put fresh sheets on the guest bed," he told Greg, who trailed behind him. Greg tried to help, which was for some reason terribly funny to them both, mostly because Greg was just tight enough to be all thumbs.

"Here, give over, pet," Mike finally chuckled, nudging him aside and bending over to stretch across the mattress and wrangle the fitted sheet into place.

"Love it when you call me pet," Greg sighed, hand brushing Mike's hip. Suddenly his hand was back, lightly rubbing Mike's back, "Mmm, you feel good...so strong and so, so warm..."

Greg's name was strangled on Mike's lips. He stared desperately at the mattress, fingers tightening painfully so as not to turn and pull Greg down on top of him.

Greg's voice was husky, strained, "Fuck, you're sexy, Mike." He sort of sighed, wistfully, "Look at you bent over like that...how's a man to resist?"

"You need to stop," Mike managed, closing his eyes and begging an unfeeling universe for strength. "Y-you've been drinking, mate, you're--you're just lonely and right now a-anyone--"

Greg shushed him, and then suddenly they were both down on the bed, Greg half straddling him, Mike rolled awkwardly onto his side. "Not anyone, Mike," Greg breathed, eyes huge and dark, fixed on Mike with wanting, with longing. He licked his lips, bit on them as if hungry. "You, Mike, you."

"We should..."

"Say no if you don't want me," Greg husked, lowering his face towards Mike's. He licked his lips again, intent evident. "Tell me no, Mike and I won't kiss you..."

Unable to resist the fantasy within his reach, Mike put up one shaking hand and stroked Greg's cheek, "Who could say no to a dream?" he whispered, and pulled Greg down into his arms.

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

The curtains over the guest bedroom had never been pulled the night prior and a weak shaft of morning light woke Greg. He groaned softly, squinting his eyes closed against the intrusion. Turning his face into the pillow, he startled when he realized he wasn't alone. The night before rushed back to him when his eyes met Mike's.

Mike was next to him under the tangled duvet, eyes strangely vulnerable without the defense of his glasses. His normally affable face struggled to be inscrutable. Greg felt a leap of uncertainty followed by a wave of love when he remembered Mike calling him a dream the night before. Shivered when he recalled the hungry way Mike had dragged him into an embrace, the deep, sweet, exhilarating strength of his kisses.

Never knew I could feel so safe and so free all at once, Greg thought. Being with Mike had been like, like sailing a damaged ship into safe harbour. Knowing you were within reach of rescue.

"You have the look of a man about to politely kick me out of his bed and out of his flat," Greg said, gnawing on his lower lip. He didn't really think Mike was regretting their passionate revelry, but a lifetime of being second choice made Greg's stomach drop like a stone into a well. Idiot! Greg railed at himself, when will you learn not to ruin a good thing?

As Mike's mouth opened, hesitating before he spoke, Greg's heart sank to join his stomach in that bottomless well. If life with Kelly and with--with him, had taught him anything, it was not to expect too much. Not to get too attached, to want too much, ask for too much time, too much regard.

Fuck that with a bag of dicks, Greg suddenly told himself fiercely. Mike wasn't anyone else. He wasn't some taker, wasn't going to use Greg, to take advantage of his neediness, his hunger for a settled, domestic life. Dangling it like a possibility to keep him biddable, eager, passive. This was Mike. Mike, his best friend, the best friend he'd ever had. The man who had propped him up every time life had kicked him in the bollocks. The man who had held him while he cried, made sure he ate, looked after himself, showed up for work when his heart was being broken time and again.

An abrupt, wild sense of courage overtook him, and Greg put his hand up to cup Mike's jaw in his palm. "Please tell me I'm not the only one who's wanted this to happen for a long time? Tell me you don't regret it, sunshine, please?"

Mike's blue eyes went glossy, and with a rough breath he reached for Greg, crushing him to the plush strength of his body. "Greg," he said, that was all, but it said everything. Gratefully, joyfully, Greg buried his face against the virile, musky forest of hair on Mike's chest and smiled ear to ear at the sound of the heart that beat for him.

"Is it too soon to say I love you?" Mike whispered a long time later, nudging Greg's face up so he could regard him seriously. "Gotta tell you that this isn't some whim for me...I've been gone on you for years."

"Y-yeah?" Greg managed, throat tightening as tears threatened. How long had it been since he'd wanted to cry from happiness? "Dunno when it started, for me. I've just...well, you've always been there. My best friend, Mike, the one I could always depend on to be there. You were--you are--the person I run to with good news, and when I'm happy, or when life's kicking my arse. Think I've loved you for ages, but I only realized it over the last year." He closed his eyes, shaking his head, bitter regret rising in him like acid. "I've taken you so for granted. God, how can you still love me?"

"Easy," Mike whispered, kissing him sweetly. He pressed his forehead to Greg's, looked deeply into his eyes, "You're so easy to love, Greg."

"Christ," Greg finally gasped, once he'd manged to not completely humiliate himself by bawling. He blinked, which only made the tears spill over. "Christ, Mike, you sweetheart."

Wiping his face hastily with the sheet, he kissed Mike with eagerness, trying to impart how overwhelmed with adoration he was. It wasn't about lust, but he was reacting to the nearness of Mike's irresistible body, to the power of the attraction between them, the rising heat of their kisses. But most of all to the palpable love emanating from Mike like a heady dose of oxygen. Greg was a drowning man, desperate for air, and Mike had all he needed and more.

With relief and elation he felt Mike's answering hardness against his belly. "You made me feel so good last night," Greg whispered, sliding his lips down Mike's jaw to his neck. He hummed hungrily against his throat, "Wanna make you feel like that."

Mike shuddered, "You don't have to--"

"Want to," he corrected, and kissed his way down Mike's chest, hands sliding over the rise of his belly, around to grip his hips as he lingered at the crease of his hip. The gasp Mike gave, the curl of his toes against Greg's legs, the flex of his hips made Greg feel powerful, desirable.

Smoothing his palms around Mike's arse cheeks, he kissed the silky, hot crown of Mike's cock. Tiny licks and moist, open kisses drew groans out of the man writhing beneath him. "Let me in," Greg sighed, and Mike spread his legs, shaking. They hadn't gotten that far the night before, neither of them going so far as to try penetration, and Greg wasn't aiming for it now.

He just wanted to get as close as possible. He needed to get as close as possible. Brushing his left hand up the inside of Mike's thigh, Greg trailed his fingers lightly over Mike's balls, stroked his perineum. Relaxing his throat, he deepened the stroke of his mouth down Mike's shaft. Humming drew a deep groan from his lover, and Greg responded with enthusiasm.

Hands, lips, tongue led an assault on Mike's composure, and as Mike's bollocks drew tight, his breath sawing desperately, his hands pressed to his face. Greg glanced up and saw him muffling his sounds with his fists. "No," he breathed, pulling off and reaching up. Snagging one of Mike's arms he brought his hand down, rested it on his head, "Give me your pleasure, Mike, please." He let his eyes flash with his most alluring glint, "Let me hear you, let me feel you take what you want."

Tentative fingers tangled in his hair, and Greg moaned encouragingly around the hot length in his mouth. With each courteous caress from Mike's hands, Greg groaned luxuriously. Soon Mike had grown bold, although still chivalrous, and his hands were so busy directing Greg's head, his mind so hazy with the pleasure he was receiving that he'd forgotten to stifle his cries.

When he stammered out a warning, heels pressing into the bed, Greg took him deep, tongue curling, and felt dizzy with desire as Mike came in short bursts inside his mouth. Swallowing him down, he gasped for breath, a little lightheaded with lust and with his briefly obstructed breathing. Mike looked stunned, flat on his back, face flushed and hair wild.

"Come here you," he manged, reaching for Greg, who happily crawled up his sprawled form. Mike pulled him tightly to him, as they exchanged deep kisses. "God, Greg...that was..."

"I'm glad," Greg murmured, brushing his nose tenderly over Mike's cheek. He smiled, his own erection momentarily shelved in the interests of soaking up Mike's enchanting, sated lassitude. Languidly he rolled his hips against Mike's softening cock.

"What do we have here, my fine fellow?" Mike whispered, taking him in hand. He tumbled Greg lightly onto his side, one hand on his lower back, the other wrapped around his straining prick. He kissed Greg luxuriously, all tongue and heat and need. "Want my mouth, love?"

"Can't wait," Greg admitted, thrusting into the hot grasp of Mike's encircling hand. "Just hold me...kiss me."

Gladly, Mike complied, arms strong and comforting around him. Greg clung to him, shaking mouth slanted across Mike's, gasping helplessly into his mouth as he chased his pleasure. So ramped up was his need that he came within bare minutes, arching into Mike's grip, lips damp and open against the other man's jaw.

Minutes, or maybe hours, later, Greg raised his head from where it had been cradled on Mike's shoulder. Meeting Mike's fond eyes, Greg felt his face blush hotly; his smile was bashful and proud, "I love you." He kissed him, putting his whole heart behind it, the way he'd never felt safe enough to do before. "I love you so much, sunshine." His arms shook with the fervor of his desperation, "Please don't leave me, Mike...I couldn't bear it if I lost you."

Mike's embrace was crushing, his voice vibrated with conviction, "Just try and shake me, pet. Just try and shake me now."

- - - - - - - - - -

There was a definite spring in Mike's step as he wound his way through the morning foot traffic a few blocks away from Bart's. Normally he greeted Mondays with about as much enthusiasm as anyone. Not today. Today he was in an exceptionally fantastic mood, as he had been all weekend.

With the joy of a man in love--and loved in return--Mike was looking forward to whatever the day brought. One of which things was lunch with his new boyfriend, if said boyfriend could get away from his desk long enough. "Fingers crossed no one steals anything or murders anyone," he'd joked with typical black, cop humor. Straightening Mike's tie he kissed him on the nose, then on the mouth, "Do I have to let you go to work?"

"Someone has to keep my cat in canned salmon," Mike joked, and grinned when Greg laughed, delighted. They were so happy in the first flush of requited love that everything they said delighted the other.

Thinking on it now, he smiled, not realizing he was beaming ear to ear until he received a startled smile from several people in return. Chuckling, he supposed his students would immediately divine that he'd gotten laid that weekend.

It's more than that though, Mike thought with smug happiness, taking the kerb with a bounce. It was love. Whole, happy, requited love.

Just as he became aware of a dark vehicle idling along beside him, the near-silent sound of a motor-powered window reached his ears. To be followed shortly by a smooth voice which made the hairs on his neck rise. Turning in alarm, he found Sherlock's older brother regarding him from inside one of his chauffeured cars.

They had only met once or twice, many years before. The first time had been intended to intimidate him. But Mike had been in drama in school. He recognized theatrics when he saw them. After all, the man had been looking out for his drug-addicted brother. Mike understood family loyalty and the protective instincts of an elder brother.

"Mr Holmes," he said warily, stopping in his tracks but not moving closer. He wasn't particularly fond of the man, and he had no desire to be late to work.

The man regarded him coolly, eyes hooded. He should have looked inscrutable, intimidating. Instead he looked...weary. They regarded one another silently for a long moment and Mike's mind moved at lightening speed. Just as it became clear that Mycroft Holmes might never speak, Mike raised his chin. "He won't be back, you know."

A quick flicker of surprise, smoothed away, leaving a Mycroft Holmes who looked faintly impressed. His mouth moved wryly, and he finally spoke. "Be...good to him. He deserves so much more than he's ever gotten."

"I don't need your advice," Mike said evenly, hands fisting at his sides.

"No," Holmes finally said, almost regretful, "I see that you don't." the window purred up and he was gone, car pulling into traffic and carrying him away.

Breathing deep, Mike struggled to bring back his previous feeling of invincibility. As if on cue his mobile pinged. Grateful for the distraction, Mike pulled it out of his bag, glancing at the screen. A warm smile bloomed, and he gazed fondly at his phone.

Miss you already, sunshine. Have a great day... I'll see you in a few hours. <3

- - - - - - - - - -

Less than a mile away, a sleek, midnight black Jaguar glided through traffic. The man inside held a thoughtful finger over his lips, eyes on his laptop. On the screen was a live CCTV feed, the display crisp enough to show the smile that dimpled the face of the man still standing on the pavement.

Tapping out a message, the man tucked away his phone and strode towards the bulk of the hospital. His steps were light, his face bright, the face of a man in love.

Closing the lid, Mycroft wearily pressed the button for the intercom. "Paul," he said, courteous as always, "I've changed my mind, take me to the office."

Paul was too well trained to show surprise, but his voice was cautious. "I thought you weren't feeling well, sir."

"One must carry on, Paul," Mycroft said softly. "Sometimes duty is a cruel mistress."

"Sorry sir? I couldn't hear you."

"To work, Paul." Mycroft closed his eyes briefly, massaged the headache he could feel building. He had only himself to blame. Work at least, was always there.

Tagging those I think might be interested: @bryntwedge @redgreyandpurple @lilynevin @paialovespie @egmon73

#stamstrade #soft smut sunday #pining #mike's a good friend #unhappy greg #mycroft is a bit of bastard #happy ending #well for some of them #sorry about the sad mycroft bit at the end #forgive any mistakes i wrote this on my phone #greg lestrade mike stamford #sorry it's so long #i couldn't find a way to insert a break from my mobile app

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