Fic: Significant (part 3/?)
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sherlockbbcFic: Significant (part 3/?)
Title: Significant (Part3/?)
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade, John, Sherlock (UST)
Summary: Sherlock is still annoyed he hadn't guessed something before everyone else already knew.
Word Count: This bit 806
Warning: Scenes of a domestic nature. Also, just because it's not really Sherlock/John yet doesn't mean it definitely won't be in future.
Part One
Part Two
Sherlock was dressed and ready to go, and had been for over an hour. He'd been sitting in the same place looking contemplative, or sullen, since John had left him there to get changed.
John had exasperatedly told him he was ready far too early and he'd get bored by the time it was time to actually leave, but Sherlock had pooh poohed this and told John to hurry. John had responded to this by taking all the time he needed, plus some more.
“I don't see why we have to go, anyway,” Sherlock sulked when John eventually reappeared.
“Well they invited you...” John started.
“They invited us,” Sherlock interrupted. “Point of fact they invited you separately to me, you're not even my plus one.”
John bit his lip, annoyed at Sherlock, not for the first time, “Well, Sherlock, it's your family, so I assume they want you there.”
“Just because they are my "family" doesn't, and shouldn't, mean a thing. They are just obligated by society's stupid, pointless conventions. They clearly invited you because they like you, and me just because they somehow felt they should. If it's a family thing why did they invite you, and since they did why can't you go on your own?”
“Well, Sherlock, as usual your logic is flawless. Maybe you should just retire from human society altogether and go and breed bees in the country.”
Sherlock smiled from the side of his mouth at John, “Admirable idea, John, I think I will.”
“Good, but before you do that, get up out of my chair, get the bottle of wine from the kitchen, go to your damn brother's dinner party and stop being such an arse.”
Sherlock stood up meekly. “All right, there is no need to press the point, John. I was going to anyway.”
John sighed and wondered again why he bothered.
---
They still had separate residences. Lestrade had a flat in Southwark and Mycroft was living in the far more salubrious Highgate. Sherlock grumbled all the way. Peckham was too difficult to get to by taxi and almost impossible any other way without resorting to at least two, and possibly three forms of public transport.
“Why South London?” Sherlock almost spat as they paid the taxi driver an extortionate premium for driving south of the river. “It's so difficult to get here.”
John shrugged. “You didn't have a problem leaving me in Brixton, also south of the river with no easy way of getting back to Baker Street.”
“That was different, that was for a case. For a mere social visit, it's a terrible imposition. Also we had only known each other a day, and I needed to see how resourceful you could be. Anyway, it would have only taken 18 minutes by tube.” He rang the bell. “Regardless...” the door was opened by Lestrade, smiling welcomingly. “What was wrong with Mycroft's place?” Sherlock demanded. Lestrade's face fell.
“Hello to you, too, Sherlock,” he said tightly.
“Sorry about Sherlock, he's had a very boring week,” John said cheerfully, handing over the wine.
“No need to apologise for him, he's not really your responsibility now, is he?” Lestrade nodded as he accepted the offering.
“That's not how it feels!” John said ruefully.
“You didn't answer my question,” Sherlock said, petulantly.
Mycroft came out of the kitchen at that moment. “You're here, marvellous,” he smiled at his brother, who smiled quickly and uncovincingly back. It was more the snarl of a shark confronting a dolphin, thought John, although he wasn't entirely sure which of the brothers was which.
“Mycroft, Sherlock wants to know why not your place,” Lestrade's eyebrow was raised quizzically.
“Oh, not this again!” Mycroft said, almost sweetly if you weren't paying attention to the underlying sentiments.
“Well, one of us has to make a compromise eventually,” Lestrade muttered. “So, coats on the coat stand, dinner should be ready soon, can I get either of you gentlemen a drink?” Lestrade turned quickly to host mode, cutting off anything Mycroft might have replied.
“So, you cook?” John said to Mycroft, trying hard to keep the incredulity out of his tone. “The only thing your brother cooks is the occasional eyeball when he's forgotten about an experiment!”
Sherlock scowled at that, but said nothing, simply flopping down on an armchair and taking no time to settle himself there as though he owned it.
“It's not very big, your flat,” Sherlock complained. “Mycroft's house is better. Am I not important enough to be entertained in style?”
“Yes, John, I cook,” Mycroft said. It looked as though everyone was going to just ignore Sherlock's bad manners this evening.
TBC
Title: Significant (Part3/?)
Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade, John, Sherlock (UST)
Summary: Sherlock is still annoyed he hadn't guessed something before everyone else already knew.
Word Count: This bit 806
Warning: Scenes of a domestic nature. Also, just because it's not really Sherlock/John yet doesn't mean it definitely won't be in future.
Part One
Part Two
Sherlock was dressed and ready to go, and had been for over an hour. He'd been sitting in the same place looking contemplative, or sullen, since John had left him there to get changed.
John had exasperatedly told him he was ready far too early and he'd get bored by the time it was time to actually leave, but Sherlock had pooh poohed this and told John to hurry. John had responded to this by taking all the time he needed, plus some more.
“I don't see why we have to go, anyway,” Sherlock sulked when John eventually reappeared.
“Well they invited you...” John started.
“They invited us,” Sherlock interrupted. “Point of fact they invited you separately to me, you're not even my plus one.”
John bit his lip, annoyed at Sherlock, not for the first time, “Well, Sherlock, it's your family, so I assume they want you there.”
“Just because they are my "family" doesn't, and shouldn't, mean a thing. They are just obligated by society's stupid, pointless conventions. They clearly invited you because they like you, and me just because they somehow felt they should. If it's a family thing why did they invite you, and since they did why can't you go on your own?”
“Well, Sherlock, as usual your logic is flawless. Maybe you should just retire from human society altogether and go and breed bees in the country.”
Sherlock smiled from the side of his mouth at John, “Admirable idea, John, I think I will.”
“Good, but before you do that, get up out of my chair, get the bottle of wine from the kitchen, go to your damn brother's dinner party and stop being such an arse.”
Sherlock stood up meekly. “All right, there is no need to press the point, John. I was going to anyway.”
John sighed and wondered again why he bothered.
---
They still had separate residences. Lestrade had a flat in Southwark and Mycroft was living in the far more salubrious Highgate. Sherlock grumbled all the way. Peckham was too difficult to get to by taxi and almost impossible any other way without resorting to at least two, and possibly three forms of public transport.
“Why South London?” Sherlock almost spat as they paid the taxi driver an extortionate premium for driving south of the river. “It's so difficult to get here.”
John shrugged. “You didn't have a problem leaving me in Brixton, also south of the river with no easy way of getting back to Baker Street.”
“That was different, that was for a case. For a mere social visit, it's a terrible imposition. Also we had only known each other a day, and I needed to see how resourceful you could be. Anyway, it would have only taken 18 minutes by tube.” He rang the bell. “Regardless...” the door was opened by Lestrade, smiling welcomingly. “What was wrong with Mycroft's place?” Sherlock demanded. Lestrade's face fell.
“Hello to you, too, Sherlock,” he said tightly.
“Sorry about Sherlock, he's had a very boring week,” John said cheerfully, handing over the wine.
“No need to apologise for him, he's not really your responsibility now, is he?” Lestrade nodded as he accepted the offering.
“That's not how it feels!” John said ruefully.
“You didn't answer my question,” Sherlock said, petulantly.
Mycroft came out of the kitchen at that moment. “You're here, marvellous,” he smiled at his brother, who smiled quickly and uncovincingly back. It was more the snarl of a shark confronting a dolphin, thought John, although he wasn't entirely sure which of the brothers was which.
“Mycroft, Sherlock wants to know why not your place,” Lestrade's eyebrow was raised quizzically.
“Oh, not this again!” Mycroft said, almost sweetly if you weren't paying attention to the underlying sentiments.
“Well, one of us has to make a compromise eventually,” Lestrade muttered. “So, coats on the coat stand, dinner should be ready soon, can I get either of you gentlemen a drink?” Lestrade turned quickly to host mode, cutting off anything Mycroft might have replied.
“So, you cook?” John said to Mycroft, trying hard to keep the incredulity out of his tone. “The only thing your brother cooks is the occasional eyeball when he's forgotten about an experiment!”
Sherlock scowled at that, but said nothing, simply flopping down on an armchair and taking no time to settle himself there as though he owned it.
“It's not very big, your flat,” Sherlock complained. “Mycroft's house is better. Am I not important enough to be entertained in style?”
“Yes, John, I cook,” Mycroft said. It looked as though everyone was going to just ignore Sherlock's bad manners this evening.
TBC
