The Game Continues

My 'Strade

"Do you know where they are?"

"No. But I have an idea."

John watched Sherlock head downstairs, admiring the detective's features. Even at 37 years old, he still looked smashing.

The doctor headed to the girls' room, knocking twice on the door.

"Come in!" Amanda's voice, barely audible, sounded.

John opened the door and stuck his head in, "Me and Sherlock are heading out. Watch Hamish, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Just one thing," a smirk spread across Amanda's face, "Keep it PG."

John laughed, "We'll try."

The doctor closed the door and headed downstairs, swinging on his green trench coat. He headed out where Sherlock was waiting. They had bought a car at some point during those seven years, and the detective waited in the driver's seat.

"Where we off to?" John asked as he slipped in the passenger side.

"Mycroft's favourite tea shop," Sherlock answered as they drove off.

--------------------------

"So, this is your favourite then?" Lestrade asked between sips, "Not bad."

"Yes," Mycroft smiled, "Very cute."

Greg wanted to make a remark, but he bit his tongue. No way was he saying that.

"Something wrong?" Mycroft placed down his cup, concern in his eyes.

Wow. Greg hadn't even known concern existed to this guy.

"No, I just...Just...I...No."

"Okay then," the elder Holmes straightened up, "I'm heading to the washroom."

"Oh, this is awkward, I was right about to say that!" Greg let out a nervous laugh. This was it.

Mycroft flashed an awkward smile, "Alright. I'll leave my jacket here so they know we're coming back."

"Eventually," Greg muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Mycroft asked, standing up.

"Nothing," Greg replied quickly, heading to the washrooms.

---------------------------

Sherlock and John arrived, not finding them.

"Oh, huddles, did I get it wrong?"

"I don't think so," John observed, "Isn't this Mycroft's jacket?"

"Ah, so it is," Sherlock mumbled, "So where are they?"

Grins spread across the pair's faces as they slowly looked to the direction of the washrooms.

---------------------------

Greg exited the stall and washed his hands. Nobody else was with them in here.

Perfect.

Mycroft emerged a moment later, washing his own hands. He walked to the far wall to get some paper towel, and Greg crossed the floor to join him.

"Hey, can I get by?" Greg whispered in Mycroft's ear, startling him. "Uh, er, yes! Of course yes."

Greg gave Mycroft a "look" as he grabbed the paper towel and dried his hands.

Mycroft began to sweat. He'd never really thought of this before, but Greg was a hell of a good-looking man.

Greg took a step closer, so they were mere inches apart, "You know, that suit you're wearing is dashing. Have I mentioned that?"