Soldier and his Detective

Chapter 7

Mycroft hated being late. He had to arrive everywhere five minutes early. And that's why Greg was stood outside a restaurant while they waited for the rest of the party. He knows they'll be late. When is Sherlock ever on time? Mycroft sighs and pulls out his phone. He must have come to the same conclusion. Sherlock will be late. His fingers danced across his screen before he dropped it into his breast pocket. His fingers find Greg's and pull him into the restaurant. "Reservation for Holmes." They are shown to a round table by the window.

Mycroft has a certain air about him. Greg leans into him slightly, "John seemed like a good guy, you were too busy shouting to notice." Mycroft turns toward Greg, "A good guy? He's a soldier." He then turns back and continues to look towards the door. "So? So he's a soldier? That doesn't make him a villian." Mycroft snorts. He's acting more like his brother as the day goes on. They only came because he's a man of his word. But that doesn't stop him complaining all day. It's going to be a long night.

They sit in near silence while they wait for Sherlock and John. A cab pulls up by the window and Greg watches as two men stumble out the cab. They are laughing and grabbing hold of each other as they pay the cabbie. The smiles remain on their faces as they enter the restaurant and sit with Greg and Mycroft. The smiles only fade when Mycroft hisses across the table, "Do you really have to make a spectacle in public like that?" He sits back and waves for the waiter to bring menus. Sherlock's face dropped and he looked down at the table. John moved to hold onto his hand. What does Mycroft have issues with? They look perfect together.

"So, John, you're in the army. What rank?" John seemed to hesitate for a second, glancing at Sherlock before turning to Greg. "Uh, yeah. I'm a doctor. Mainly. But I've been made captain. So, I'm in charge of a group of guys, both at base in the med bay and out in combat." He gives off a soft chuckle and adjusts in his seat. Why is he so nervous? Greg's questions were answered when he looked over at his partner. They all continue to read the menus, an awkward silence falling over them all.

Sherlock moves the menu to the side. "I don't see what your problem is." Oh god. This is where the shouting starts. Mycroft moves his menu to rest atop Sherlock's. He picks up his glass and takes a sip of water. An air of calm about him, with the rage simmering just visible underneath. "He's a soldier." That's it? That's his whole defense. Greg hazards a glance at the other men. John looks defeated. Sherlock looks like he could kill. Sherlock's mouth opens, but closes as John shakes his head slightly. Sherlock looks to his side then turns back towards his brother. "Doesn't stop me falling for him." He sounds so small. Like a child being told off and trying to justify their actions. John looks up. Looking right as Sherlock, mouth agape. Look of astonishment and adoration plastered on his face.

The waiter joins them again just as the air begins to grow tense again. They place their orders, Mycroft ordering for both him and Greg, followed by John ordering his. Sherlock waves him off. Mycroft is seething. "Come on Sherlock, you have to eat something." Greg tries clearing the air before Mycroft's rage becomes known to everyone. "Not. Hungry." This sets it off. Ah, the Holmes brothers. At this stage John raises his voice to be heard over the bickering. Turning to the waiter, "Can I get a side of chips too? He'll share with me. Thank you." He gathers up the menus and passes them over as everyone stares at him. Amazing. That's twice he's stopped the brother's arguments. How is he so calm? He's just taking a sip of his water as if nothing has happened.

***

The meal arrives and not a word is said throughout. Not as bad as you envisioned. Sherlock ended up eating quite a bit. Even Mycroft looked surprised. As we waited for the bill, Sherlock excused himself, giving John a short kiss, and climbing over him. John watched as he walked towards the bathroom then turned towards the other men. "Look, I don't know why you don't like me, or soldiers in general. It doesn't matter. I care about that daft bastard more than I can fathom. What can I do?" John looks with pleading eyes. Greg turns to Mycroft who inhales deeply before saying, "You're going to war. You'll die. You die, you kill him too." So that's what this is about. "The standard big brother, don't break his heart schtick." As Greg said it he gave a small laugh and Mycroft glared at him. "There's no guarantee I'll die. If I'm honest, I'm trying not to." John says this with a sideways glance at Greg as the both chuckle. "But you could, and that's enough to worry him to death." With that he stood, placed some notes on the table, then swept out the building. Rendering both men silent.

Sherlock had reappeared at that point and Greg looked at them both. "I'm happy for you guys, honest. He just needs talking to. I won't call you this week. Enjoy." He shook John's hand, then gave Sherlock's arm a squeeze. Now to find your partner. Greg found Mycroft stood outside holding the door to his black car open. Greg climbed in. They rode home in silence. It takes them ten minutes to arrive at Pall Mall. They potter about, sorting out what they need. Brushing teeth, collecting clothes for the next day. Eventually, they make their way to bed. Still silent.

"He'll be okay." Greg looks at Mycroft. He doesn't appear to have heard. Greg continues to dress for bed and climb under the covers. He is joined a minute later. Greg looks at Mycroft. Mycroft looks at the ceiling. "I know." Mycroft looks at him, worry etched into his features. He turns to shut off the lights before moving to hold Greg.