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“Of course, you had to,” grumbled Sherlock from across the room.
Greg looked up from all the paperwork he had to get through by the end of the day. Most of it was Sherlock-related, or rather, caused by Sherlock’s antics.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Graham,” Sherlock shook his head.
Greg followed his gaze to somewhere in the corner of Lestrade’s office. It hadn’t been long since he had met Sherlock Holmes. He was, well, a force. Whether he was a force to be reckoned with or one to be steered clear of remained to be seen.
“Who did what, then?” Greg asked and went back to his paperwork.
“He put a camera in your office,” Sherlock said, “so that he could spy on me.”
“Not everything revolves around you, Sherlock.” Greg waved him off without looking up from the documents. “There’s always been a camera in my office.”
“Not this one,” Sherlock interrupted. “The old one barely picked up any picture. This new one, however, is high definition.”
“And you can tell that just by looking at it? Of course you can.”
Sherlock huffed. Greg didn’t mind him grumbling that much, as long as they were on the same page. Which was keeping that all-too-brilliant man away from trouble. Mostly drugs. Greg was impressed that Sherlock had shown up today, if not absolutely clean of the habit, then at least two weeks off it. It made Greg wonder why Sherlock never wanted to be a detective inspector, considering how much he enjoyed the riddles that came with the job. Possibly not the paperwork.
Greg sighed. He had all the paperwork while Sherlock got to just show up, swish his coat about, solve the murder, and annoy him into getting another case already.
“He’s my arch-nemesis,” said Sherlock, glaring at the camera.
“A relation, then?” Greg asked, still not bothering to look up from all the documents.
Sherlock… was unusually silent for him. Greg got concerned and raised his head.
“So you can be not a complete incompetent…?”
“If I were you, I’d stop right there,” Greg interrupted.
He wasn’t going to tell Sherlock that he hadn’t come to that conclusion himself. He’d just thrown out a hunch, an idea to annoy Sherlock. He didn’t actually mean it, but, well, it made sense.
“They’re as brilliant as you are, then?” asked Greg.
“He’s a pushover,” Sherlock sneered.
“And you aren’t?” Greg huffed a laugh. “So. Older brother, then? They tend to be overprotective.”
And Greg could clearly see what for. Sherlock mostly needed to be protected from himself, though.
“If he has his claws in here already, he’s gonna kidnap you in the next few days,” Sherlock said.
“Oh? How straight is he?”
Sherlock choked.
“I mean, I have two questions. You can answer them in any order. How straight is he, and is he single?” Greg didn’t bother to stop writing his report.
“Lestrade?!”
“You do remember my name, then. Look at that.” Greg smiled. “Answer my questions, Sherlock.”
“I just told you he’s going to kidnap you!”
Greg shrugged.
“Very kinky, hm? Too bad I’m into that.”
“Lestrade?…”
“My ex-wife thought it was weird,” Greg shrugged, “but we’ve been divorced for two years, and that marriage didn’t last long anyway. I’m very open to meeting new people.”
“He’s watching you,” Sherlock gritted through his teeth and pointed at the camera.
“Oh, no,” Greg drawled out. He made a particular effort to lower his voice just so. “How exciting.”
Sherlock sputtered. It was getting more fun with every second. Greg had started it absent-mindedly, but now? It was too funny to watch Sherlock’s reaction. Even if he had to air something he normally wouldn’t unless he was rather drunk or with a willing partner.
Sherlock was still silent. Greg looked up to see… well. Sherlock’s eye was twitching. His mouth was agape. Greg laughed.
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” Sherlock glared.
“Yes and no.” Greg shook his head. “Yes, it’s funny to see you react like that, and no, I usually don’t talk about my sexual preferences at work, but I do happen to have a kink for consensual kidnapping, light bondage, and voyeurism. So, by all means. I draw the line at cheating, though, so your brother is very welcome to try, provided he’s single. Otherwise, it’s a deal breaker.”
Sherlock took a deep breath.
“He’s ginger,” he tried.
“Oh, no,” Greg grinned. “You didn’t happen to notice that all of my exes were…?”
“But he’s also fat and more into cake than…”
“So it would be simpler to get him here if I were to put whipped cream all over my body? And I do like them on the heavier side. You don’t get to judge my taste in people, Sherlock.”
“Your taste is shit, Lestrade,” Sherlock almost hissed.
“Answer my questions, Sherlock,” Greg insisted.
Sherlock didn’t. He jumped up from his seat, whirled around, and slammed the door behind him.
Greg chuckled as he looked at the camera in the corner.
“So. I’m finishing at seven, if you’d care to pick me up?”
He smiled.
Mycroft had been choking on his tea, coughing, and generally looking distressed in his office through the entire conversation.
“I will arrange a car for you, then, sir?” asked Anthea from her place.
Mycroft nodded. He was wondering just what he was getting himself into.