Things Bad Begun May Yet Get Better

[smallhobbit]

Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters: John Watson/Greg Lestrade
Rating: PG
Word Count: 510
Prompt: Gratuitous and shameless H/C/Schmoop
Notes: Written for the sixth of the amnesty prompts for JWP on watsons_woes

John Watson left A&E with his arm in a sling and started to look for a taxi.  Normally he wasn’t one for unnecessary extravagance, but with a broken bone and his arm in fresh plaster he didn’t fancy battling his way onto the tube.  He looked up when he heard someone call his name and smiled when he saw Greg Lestrade.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you.  I thought you’d be underneath a pile of paperwork by now,” John said.

“I’ve dealt with the urgent bits and delegated the rest,” Greg replied.  “Thought you might appreciate a lift.”

“Cheers.  That would be great.”

They were driving along when John said “This isn’t the way to Baker Street.”

“A correct deduction.  Living with Sherlock is obviously rubbing off on you.”

“Haha, very funny.  Where are you taking me?”

“This is the back route to my place.  I thought you might need a bit of help for a couple of days and there’s no way that’ll happen if you’re at 221B.”

Once they had parked Greg took a bag out of the back of his car and then let the two of them into his flat.

“You go and sit down; I’ll put the kettle on,” he said.

John went into the living room and sank down into the settee.  He’d been to Greg’s flat a couple of times before and been surprised at the number of house plants he’d had dotted around.  He’d thought then how peaceful they made the room feel; now he was particularly grateful for the calming atmosphere.

Greg came into the room carrying two mugs of tea in one hand and the bag in the other.

“I collected this on the way to pick you up,” he said.

“Don’t tell me Sherlock’s packed it.  It could have anything in it.”

“No, it’s okay.  Mrs Hudson did it.  She said she thought she’d put everything in you would need, including your toothbrush.  Something about it was obvious which one was yours?”

“Yes.  Sherlock currently has a Spongebob toothbrush.”

“What?”

“It’s a sibling thing.  He gave Mycroft one with Peppa Pig.”

Greg sat down on the settee and put his arm round John, who moved closer, resting his head on Greg’s chest.

“This is nice.  Much better than how I expected the day to end,” John murmured.

“I’m glad.  I’ll cook us some dinner in a bit.  I’d offer you a beer with your dinner but I don’t suppose you’ll want one, since you must be on painkillers.”

“They’re not strong ones, so all it’ll do will be to send me to sleep.  It might be a good idea to make the settee up before dinner though in case I do crash out.”

“You’re sleeping in the bed.”

“You can’t sleep on the settee, it won’t do your back any good.”

“It’s a double bed.  I thought that maybe we could, you know, share.”

“If I’d known what it would take to get you into my bed, Greg Lestrade, I’d have had someone push me off some steps months ago.”