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Greg knew the look of house that was domestic, he has a few relationships, a few times of visiting his friends. What can he say he had a warm heart and made sure to pour a cup in every house.
Greg would not normally turn up to Baker Street, not at this time of day either. It was early afternoon, his day off. This was not for some drug bust on Sherlock when things got bad, a christamas celebration or even something about a case or requested information.
Instead it was the moment that their landlady Mrs Hudson had decided to have tea time. Something that the group had started. According to Mrs Hudson, it was when John had just moved in, at the time after winter it was this deep snow which meant anything towards the case would be unavailable. Another factor was the heating was incredibly out done by the cold, the pair had decided some tea in Sherlocks flat was the answer. Then it became tradition, every Wednesday at 1:40 was tea.
This one had been delayed, for several weeks. The last time he was in this house was about a case concerning – well it had been a while. Sherlock had only just had a case about some odd criminal, it was calm and tradition would return. So when Greg rang the bell, it was Mrs Hudson, a tray in hand.
“They prefer my kettle” she said. “There upstairs”
She waved her hand lowly, using the other hand to balance the tray with her hand and leaning on the banister.
“Oh good” Greg murmured before his eyes lit up seeing the content of the tray, with the pastel blobs.
It was a tray filled with soft delicate cups, only two, light pastel green looking like fine china. As he last remembered it was a gift John got her from Christmas. Then two other ones, one with a blue J and then another with a black S each to a white background. Sherlock and John’s Christmas present, it was a cold Feburary after all. She seemed to be glowing with a small smile when her eyes flickered to where he was.
Huh, seemed to spring into Greg’s mind. Then another comment ‘Oh good’ perched on a small polite light pastel plate was some jam biscuits, chocolate chips and oat biscuits. She had heard of his faviourte.
“Allow me Mrs Hudson” Greg commented taking the train from her with both hands, feeling the weight of it and then remembering balance as he trailed up the stairs careful not to make the pot in the middle. The bright purple one he could see in the light glow.
Then it was the door, opening it. Mrs Hudson allowed him to go first. To see the flat with its dust, the familiar chair and among other things the difference.
This was the first time he saw it in the flat, not in a drug bust or a case or at Christmas. It was for a check in, Mrs Hudson mentioned tea and he could not refuse. Yes tea made you look around waiting, not with objective for cards or if someone was using, no this was for wondering looking at things in detail and allowing precedence. Mrs Hudson also has a firm stance on phones.
The table in the kitchen had a cloth covering what looked like mixes, apart from that was the dinning room set. Greg attempted to take one of the four seats. After setting the tray down, his fingers reached for a chair opposing Mrs Hudson, her own fingers curling on the opposing wooden chair.
“Boys” She yelled “Tea time”
Then it was the scurry of something, how Greg eyes glazed over trying to figure out whether they were from the sound. His eyes lasered to the wall and then it was Mrs Huson a hand on his arm. ”You were dazed dear feeling alright?”
She was at his arm now, a hand placed there on his nice jacket, it was his day off after all.
“I am fine just a bit odd to be here and stay for tea, y’know not another case”
“It is a tad bit odd isn't it. They’re always busy these days…” Her eyes lingered upon his hand on the chair “Sit with me, dear. They do not like to sit across the table”
That seemed to puzzle Greg as he moved back onto the seat next to Mrs Hudson. He got a better view of the room. It seemed the chess board was still there, mid-game on a side table. A notebook next to it of tallys mostly under S but a few under J. The chairs seemed closer together, the fireplace with lots of ash, ripe with firewood.
Huh.
THen it was another thing, a gold photo frame with something on it. He squinted seeing a photograph of the blog, presented with some writers award. A joke probably but it was there, near Sherlock’s experiments, always within reach of his eye from his side of the table.
After that, it was the factor of Sherlock himself who after hearing the pipes stop rattling came out of the bathroom. But he was dressed his hair slightly wet and curling neatly on his head. He found the seat and grabbed the J cup filling it with Tea and placing it on the coaster. Greg’s greeted him.
“Morning Sherlock or Afternoon” the clock was at 12:05.
“Morning” Sherlock muttered out into his own mug of tea, taking a sip before roaring out “JOHN!” into the flat.
Greg jumped a little but Mrs Hudson almost launched her favourite mug.
“Oh Sherlock” She yelled, “What on earth? What is he asleep?” she narrowed her eyes at him as Greg gently placed the cups out of her shaking hands.
Then it was the clamour of something at the door, someone turning up. With a bag of shopping, stretching out of the door. Not dressed in the comfortable purple that Mrs Huson had with her dress, or the joggers and black top that Sherlock had. No it was similar to Gregs, a grey jumper and with jeans.
“Did he summon him?” Greg whispered to Mrs Hudson who giggled inro her hand, pouring a cup of tea for John.
It was Sherlock glaring and the all that was left was John placing some milk into the little cup to be placed on the tray and then walking over to the fridge. Then the factor of Sherlock and john sitting together, the room was quiet until one word.
John offering an “Afternoon” tucking into the conversations and the biscuits.
Then it was Sherlock, his phone tapping away with his hand, small taps as he used his right hand to type. Greg raised a brow, it was impressive.
The nagging from Mrs hudson, it was the fact that it all seemed to buzz into the background. Subtly, Greg noticed. Its like puzzle pieces had been scattered around the room all connecting as Greg noticed.
As they talked about tea, some case. Flowers at one point and then it was the moment about some more cases, John’s blog. Holly’s own posting on social media. The team and then cases again. Through out all of it Mrs Hudson would laugh, Greg would smile and even Sherlock got his name right only when talking about the dating scene.
However, through out it all as Sherlock’s right hand would raise to drink from tea or move his hand around. Or when John would pick up his tea or laugh eyes so bright only to turn to Sherlock first.
Sherlock never raised his left hand and John never raised his right.
For Greg it all clicked, the place that was once a place he searched through with a detectives mind, turned into a home. With his key created from tea and happiness. He locked the secret of the couple and sipped his tea. In his Calander was a red cross of a date to come, a time to enjoy tea and maybe get the conformation that Sherlock knew he knew. Unless like now smirking into his tea he was too distracted by John and John would not notice the last biscuit as he laughed always looked at Sherlock first.
Greg smiled into his tea, letting his eyes glow as he laughed with them, new company and his detective skills finding the hidden layers of the pair. It was a ha to Sherlock, he had got a point.
THE END.