Chapter Text
Greg closed the door of the interrogation room behind himself and looked up to the young Sergeant, who had just come out of the room next door.
"That should be it", he said, handing over the documents and the full confession. The young Sergeant let out a huff and took everything from him.
"We were not allowed to investigate but now we have to do all the paperwork? Typical!" he sneered.
"Sorry about that," Greg mumbled, he knew all too well how annoying it was when somebody took one of his cases away. This time it had been the other way around. "I know how infuriating it can be when you get the call to hand over your case." Greg brushed his hand through his hair. The young Sergeant let out another huff but nodded.
"I'm sorry Detective Inspector Lestrade. Just doing your job as well, right?" He let his head hang a little.
"It's alright," Greg replied and patted the young Sergeant on his shoulder as he walked past him.
"This Mr Holmes...", the young Sergeant began and turned towards Greg who stopped in his tracks. "... the one with that doctor, who sneaked into our crime scene without authorisation a day before you arrived..." He rubbed his free hand against his trousers. "Is that the same Mr Holmes whose assistant informed my boss you would take over the investigation?" A light laugh escaped Greg as he shook his head.
"No absolutely not." He kept quiet for a second. A bit surprised the young Sergeant didn't know Sherlock from the news. Maybe it was because the town he was currently in was in the countryside. "The one you've got to know is Sherlock Holmes. The one with the assistant is his big brother." The other man slowly nodded.
"This Sherlock... is a strange guy." Another laugh escaped Greg.
"Yes, he is." Greg nodded along. "I'm surprised your boss only expelled him from your crime scene." The young Sergeant looked up again.
"What did you do?" Greg's grin widened and he shrugged his shoulders.
"I arrested him and threw him in a cell. The next day he was gone." Greg remembered the unsettling feeling in his stomach briefly when that young man, who had been clearly on drugs, had just disappeared from the cell.
"But soon everything he said started to make sense. The things he deducted were all correct."
"How does he do it?"
Greg let out a sigh.
"I wish I knew," he answered honestly. "His brother is even worse though." With a grin, the young Sergeant nodded. For a moment he kept quiet but then he held up the documents.
"Please excuse me, Detective Inspector. I will start with the paperwork." Greg nodded.
"Of course. I will go now," he said. "You have my number should anything come up." With that, he turned and started to walk out of the small police station, only stopping at the Chief Instructor's office to bid farewell.
When he stepped out of the police station it was late morning. The wind was still quite fresh, but the sun was slowly regaining its strength. Greg stopped a few steps aside the entrance and closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the gentle warmth on his skin.
A loud sound tore through the silence, making Greg flinch for just a second. He opened his eyes and pulled out his phone. He answered without looking. It could only be one person.
"What's taking you so long, Geoff?" Greg rolled his eyes but started to walk again.
"Do I even want to know why you know I'm on my way?"
"No," came the answer immediately. "So?"
"Please Sherlock, I interrogated that man on and off from yesterday evening," Greg grumbled as he rubbed his face with his free hand. "I think I deserve a few minutes of just enjoying the sun." He turned a corner and the small Inn came into view. A muffled sound came from the other side of the phone. "I'm nearly there." Greg hung up and opened the door to the Inn.
Warmth welcomed him and he let out a soft sigh. The entry area was quiet, with only the light sound of small bells audible, announcing his appearance.
"Just a second!" And only a moment later, Lydia, a woman with dark brown hair and a gentle smile, appeared from the back door. "Oh it's you Detective," she said, slowing in her steps. "Did David confess?"
"How do you know it's David?" Greg asked but a grin spread on his lips.
"Oh please Detective, it's a small town. Everybody talks," she explained, making herself comfortable against the counter, a grin on her lips.
"Obviously," he replied, rolling his eyes but the smile never left his lips.
"Your friends and the one in the suit are in the breakfast room", she muttered as he pointed towards the right sliding door. Greg raised an eyebrow.
"The one in the suit?" he asked, though already having a feeling who that might be.
"He arrived half an hour ago," Lydia explained. "Three-piece suit, umbrella, looks like he has a stick up his arse."
A short laugh escaped Greg as he nodded.
"Got it."
He turned towards the sliding door and took a deep breath. It had been a long few days since he was ordered to drive three hours from London to a small town in the countryside to help with a case. And knowing that not only one but two Holmes would be right behind that door was not helping. But in two very different ways. With a few deliberate steps, he walked up and slid the door open, revealing three men on the other side of the room.
John stood next to the armchair in which Sherlock was sitting, one hand running over the soft-looking fabric of the chair. Sherlock seemed to mutter something but Greg was still too far away to understand anything. Mycroft, who sat in the chair opposite Sherlock, let out a sigh, turning his umbrella absently. The cracking floor announced Greg's arrival and all three men turned their heads.
"Finally," Sherlock said, face lighting up. "Did he confess?"
Greg stepped closer.
"Good to see you as well, Sherlock." He stopped next to Mycroft's armchair and gave him a soft nod, avoiding looking at him for too long.
"Detective Inspector." Mycroft returned his nod after a brief second.
"I don't want to interrupt your reunion but did he confess?" John let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. Greg turned towards Sherlock.
"Of course he did." He leaned slightly against the armchair. "He tried to talk himself out of it but with the evidence you found, he had no chance in the end." Sherlock nodded softly.
"I still don't understand though why you were so keen on getting your nose into this case," Greg muttered, looking directly at Sherlock, one eyebrow raised.
"A friend of mine needed help."
"Please, that doesn't even make sense, Sherlock", Greg huffed, shaking his head. Something in John's eyes made Greg want to stop but he spoke nonetheless. "Who on earth do you know here at the end of the world that would be important enough to be noticed by you?"
"England."
Greg turned his head from Sherlock to Mycroft.
"What?"
"Please Detective Inspector," Mycroft said, looking up at Greg. "I know you're not this dense." Their eyes met for a brief second and a tiny feeling, neatly packed away in the farthest part of his heart began to force its way to the surface. With a huff, Greg turned his head away.
"I see how it is." Maybe he should find it funny how the roles have changed. Now he was in the same place as the Sergeant had been earlier; only understanding the minimum of what was going on and being left out.
Silence spread through the breakfast room and Greg stared into the fire, not quite sure what to do with himself now.
"Now that this is all settled", Sherlock said suddenly, nearly jumping out of the chair. "Let's head home, John." John, who had flinched just the slightest at Sherlock's sudden movement, stared at his friend in disbelief. A small smile spread across Greg's lips, and when their eyes met, a similar grin appeared on John's face. He rolled his eyes when Sherlock wasn't looking.
"John, get our bags." The doctor let out an enraged sound and raised an eyebrow towards Sherlock.
"I'm not your butler, Sherlock."
"Please," Sherlock said, dragging the e long. They stared at each other for another moment before John let out a sigh and nodded. He turned and walked towards the sliding door, but not without muttering quietly under his breath. Greg suppressed a chuckle.
"I will wait outside." Without turning around, John raised his hand to signal Sherlock he had heard him.
The sound of rustling fabric let Greg turn his attention back towards Mycroft, who had stood.
"If you will excuse me," he said, closing his jacket. "I will arrange the payment for your stay." Greg watched him walk out of the breakfast room. His eyes lingered at the sliding door a moment longer before he turned towards Sherlock again.
"You should get your bag as well," Sherlock said, without looking at him. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his phone.
"What if I wanted to stay here longer?" Greg asked, feeling a little like a sulking child, but it annoyed him that he was being commanded around. One Holmes was already enough but both Holmes brothers doing it was the cherry on top.
"Please, what do you even want to do here?" Sherlock started to walk towards the sliding door. Greg huffed but followed Sherlock.
He passed Mycroft who was currently speaking to Lydia and took the steps up towards the first floor where all the rooms lay. Greg pulled the small key out and opened the door to his one-bedroom. He took the room in and wished he had kept it tidier during his stay. The silver-haired man packed as fast as he could. His body wash, toothbrush with toothpaste and the face cream his mother had gifted him last Christmas. Then there were the dirty clothes he had just thrown onto that one chair in the corner of the room and his few clean ones that he had left in the drawer. At last, Greg grabbed the book which was still lying on the bedside table. He had brought it with him in the hopes of reading a few pages before losing the fight against sleep. Well, Greg thought, that had not really worked out. After one last look around, he closed the door behind him and walked down the steps.
The entrance area was empty except for Lydia who was humming a melody under her breath as she tidied up some papers. As Greg stopped in front of her, she looked up, a soft smile on her lips.
"Your Inn is really lovely Lydia", Greg said, pushing the key towards her.
"Thanks, Detective." She took the key and placed it on the small keyboard behind her. "I hope you're gonna have an easy drive home." With a hum, Greg nodded and turned.
"Goodbye, Lydia."
"Goodbye, Detective."
When Greg stepped out of the Inn, John was standing in front of a sleek black limousine.
"You gonna drive with Mycroft's car?" Greg asked.
"Yeah," the other man said with a nod. "Sherlock is already in."
"Good. At least my drive will be quiet then." When a soft laugh escaped John's lips, the corner of Greg's mouth darted up into a grin. The car door opened ever so slightly.
"John!"
The called man rolled his eyes.
"Let's have a pint together sometime next week", he said, ignoring Sherlock from inside the car.
"Sure," Greg agreed with a nod. "Text me when you are free."
He watched as John turned and rounded the car to get to the passenger door. They nodded at each other one last time over the car, before John got in. A moment later, the car pulled away onto the road. Greg watched the car as it got smaller and smaller the farther it got away. A sigh escaped his lips and just for a moment he closed his eyes. From somewhere close were sounds of birds and Greg was able to hear faint bells of cows, probably from the fields just outside the small town.
The sound of the Inn's door opening behind him, made him open his eyes again. But only when he heard the soft clicking sound against concrete he turned around. The silver-haired man blinked once, twice.
"I thought you were in the car as well", Greg said, pointing behind himself, one eyebrow raised. Mycroft stopped a few feet away from him, his eyes on the end of the street where the black had disappeared only a few moments ago.
"That had been my intention, though I felt the need to visit the facilities before the drive back to London," the other man replied, the grip on his umbrella tight. "I suppose waiting was not an option for my brother." Greg shook his head in disbelief.
"Well, obviously you can come with me." A smile Greg had seen Mycroft smile more than once when talking to the Chief Superintendent, appeared on Mycroft's lips. Polite but distant.
"Thank you, Detective Inspector," Mycroft said with a nod, slightly straightening his back. A light smile spread on Greg's lips and his chest started to warm.
"Of course." He embraced his car keys and pulled them out of his pocket. "This way."