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It was a good pub to be in if you didn't want to be noticed, the kind where the patrons made it their business not to see anything that wasn't their own business or drink. Right now what Greg Lestrade want most of all was a quiet place to get drunk and forget the week from hell. He was currently being helped in that quest by his third pint of the evening when a short stocky blond man entered his field of view carrying three pints, it wasn't a well lit place but Greg would regonginse John Watson in the dark, John set down his drinks on a table snagged a free chair from another table and sat down radiating 'danger, keep off' vibes that earnt him a clear space around his table.
Greg was about to throw caution to the wind and join John when the comforting warm fuzz of impending drunkenness was blasted away by the entrance into the bar of the man second on the yards most wanted list. He stalked in and made a straight line for John shit Greg swore silently Moran! And I don't even have my badge never mind a gun on me.
John looked up at the six foot ex commando towering over him and kicked a chair out from under the table and nodding to it said crisply "Seb"
Moran dropped into the chair reached for a pint and replied "John."
Greg took a fortifying pull of his beer and watched surreptitiously as the two men, who had no reason not to be trying to kill each other sat in companionable silence drinking. Greg wondered if this was some elaborate game the rules of which he didn't know and that at some point they would abandon civility and try and throttle each other. It was becoming a night for odd he reckoned when both men suddenly stood ad the woman who hung around with Mycroft appeared and he watched all three sit down and drink for a while in apparent harmony.
Then the woman what the hell's her name, Andrea, Amelia something like that Greg mused set her pint down and said in a voice that only just carried to Greg "I propose to implement plan D gentlemen."
Moran raised his glass in salute "Motion seconded."
John nodded gravely "Carried unanimously."
"When, that's the rub." Moran said looking into the depths of his drink
"Mycroft is departing for a tour of Eastern Balkans the day after tomorrow." Anthea relied calmly, as if she hadn't just sold her boss out to the most dangerous criminal network in London.
John grinned "That gives you plenty of scope, some of those places are hell."
Moran grinned "Yeah, I'll send you a list of the best ones."
Anthea nodded her thanks, "Jim got anything planned?"
Moran's eyes gleamed "America."
John laughed "Oh now that's just too easy. God Seb that really is handing his ass to you on a plate."
Anthea's grin was predatory "I think we'll be swapping list, let me know the itinerary and I can press a few panic buttons. Guarantee to have his frothing at the mouth while he waits for the fuss to die down."
Greg sat there not quite believing his ears, must have been something in the beer. That or another week of dealing with a backlog of paper work and a chronically bored Sherlock had finally broken his mind.
"How about you? Too mucho to hope he's going any where we can make his life hell." Moran asked taking a hefty pull on his drink.
John sighed heavily and slumped in his chair, "no, he's planning a series of experiments on the affect of alkaline substances on," John shivered "parasitic insects in partly decomposed gastrointestinal tracts."
Moran choked on his drink "Jesus Christ John! I mean I know you're no angle but God no one deserves that!"
Anthea rested a hand on Johns arm and said softly "My sincere condolences John, I am so very sorry."
Greg shuddered feeling more than a little sick, the things John Watson put up with the man should be declared a saint, or at the very least get a free pass if he ever did murder Sherlock. There was more than enough evidence for provocation and mental abuse to sway any jury.
John smiled sadly and took a mouthful of beer, "Well someone has to keep the git alive, Karma is a bitch and I hope to God I enjoyed what ever it was I did to earn this as punishment."
his two companions nodded gravely, after a while of silent staring into drinks Moran offered tentatively "We could always, disappear you for a week or so."
Anthea pursed her lips in consideration "Wouldn't be that hard to do, a few false trails. We could have him running round in circles for a fortnight if we play it right."
John tilted his head to one side "True, he might even pull in the Yard and god knows they could do with a break from paper work."
There was another moment of silent contemplation and then the three of them huddled close, Greg decided that was he cue to leave. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was with the idea of those three in cahoots but he figured their respective madmen a: probably had it coming and b: probably could handle it. He was however very sure of c: if John Watson was going to mysteriously disappear from a London street in the immediate future he DI Gregory Lestrade was going to need a full nights sleep and a clear head in order to deal with Sherlock Holmes run himself ragged in ever decreasing circles.