Just Haven't Met You Yet! Ch4

"Greg, I don't know what I'm doing." Mycroft said a bit uncomfortable.

"That's okay My, I do. Just, grip it a bit tighter" Lestrade said bending Mycroft over a bit more.

"This position hurts my hips, and it didn't work the last time I tried, remember?"

"Bend your knees a bit more then, yeah? I promise it's going to be fun love, trust me."

"But there are children around this time!" Mycroft whined.

"Mycroft, come on its fine, trust me, I do it all the time"

"But what if they want to join in?"

"There are plenty of other areas for them to do that" Greg said eager for the next round.

Mycroft simply shook his head and did as he was told, spreading his legs further apart and bending his knees as suggested. Greg had been right; it did relieve some of the stress on his hips. At that moment Greg leaned over him, playfully pressing his hips into the others butt and wrapping his arms around the other, placing his hands on Mycroft's.

"Okay, ready? One, Two... Three-" CRACK. The ball met the bat and went flying towards the metal fence, behind the pitching machine.

"I did it!" Mycroft yelled enthusiastically before clearing his throat and straightening his shirt and his stance. "Thank you Greg. That was an enjoyable experience."

"Oh come on you. Don't go all 'sophisticated Mr Holmes with a minor part in the government' on me," Greg said. "You know you had fun... Do you want to do it again?"

Mycroft nodded timidly. "Maybe this time I could even do it myself. If I hit the ball from the correct angle and the right amount of force..." He rambled on some more before Greg silenced him.

"Love, don't think. Just do." Mycroft held the bat firmly again and prepared for the next ball but this time instead of hitting it the ball flew past him back into the fence behind him. "Maybe I should give you a hand again, My," Greg suggested.

Mycroft looked at him and nodded. Greg came and wrapped himself around Mycroft and they prepared to swing when they noticed the machine had stopped. Just to the left of their batting cage was tall fellow in a dark coat and a blue scarf with a mess of dark curls swinging a plug around in a circle. Mycroft jumped and went to pull on the ends of his suit jacket before realizing he wasn't wearing one and he was only in a mere, less than posh, t-shirt.

Sherlock let out an ungodly snort of laughter, which made Mycroft even more uncomfortable. "Well, Mycroft, looks like you've gotten off your high horse haven't you?"

"I would not particularly say it in those terms, little brother…" The older Holmes sneered.

"And Geoffrey, I bloody knew something was going on, but this, really? I've seen you almost every day for the past six months!"

Greg cleared his throat. "Sherlock if you have seen me for the past six months you should at least know my name."

"George…?" Sherlock said unsure.

"Oh, to bloody hell with it," Greg said. Sherlock was never going to actually remember his name. That, however, was not the point. "Your brother finally came to his senses."

"In all actuality, he messaged me multiple times until I finally agreed to go out with him once. However instead of finding the experience dull like I believed I would have, I found it quite enjoyable." Mycroft stated simply.

"So you and him have been sneaking around for ages now and you haven't told me?" Sherlock said with the slightest hint of hurt in his voice.

"I'm sorry little brother, I found it unwise to make you aware of these circumstances. My relations with Greg are not the most professional for my position."

Greg wrinkled his nose and went to pick up the baseballs the pitching machine had thrown. Sherlock let out a disgruntled sound, "So it's not proper for you to tell people that you, the British government, are shagging DI Lestrade?"

Greg let out a muffled chuckle his face flushing slightly. Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, "Sherlock, I am appalled by your insinuation."

"Oh please, you can't tell me that the two of you haven't done anything. Just look at the way Gavin over there is smirking," Sherlock spat.

Mycroft just rolled his eyes. "Well if you are finished, I have a limited time away from work."

Sherlock gave a small nod. He was actually kind of glad Mycroft got off his fat ass and decided to get with Greg. He knew where he was. Why wouldn't he take that? He turned on his heels and walked away flipping up his collar and lighting a cigarette heading to the main drag. He wished he knew where his John was.

John stood in front of the black door with the gold knocker and inscription of 221B on it. His nerves were getting to him making his leg ache even more than it did on a regular basis. He went to knock but hesitated. Was this really the right thing to do? Was this cheating? Should he just find his soul mate on his own without help like many people do every day?

John almost walked away before deciding against it. Walking down the couple steps then turning and going back up, hesitating to knock. He deserved this though. He had been through so much trying to find His William and now he was going to do everything in his power to make it finally happen. They needed each other. They were soul mates, destined to find one another. So what if they had a little help along the way?

John took a deep reassuring breath and knocked on the door. There wasn't an answer at first. He began to think he should just leave while he had the chance to escape. He turned to go once again when the door opened. His heart stopped for a few seconds. He slowly turned back around, only to find someone whom he had not come to see, but instead an elderly woman with a sweet smile and a really ugly broach.

"Why Hello Dear! Are you here to see Sherlock? Because if so, I'm afraid he is out at the moment, but he should be home soon! Why don't you come in for some tea?" Mrs. Hudson said practically pulling John inside. John was very confused. Who was this woman? She was far too old to be the detective's soul-mate. Maybe she was his mother.

"Um… Y-yeah, I am here to see Sherlock," John stuttered out.

"I figured as much, I don't get many visitors myself. Accept for Mrs. Turner. But she's obviously not you…" Mrs. Hudson rambled on leading John up the stairs to Sherlock's flat.

After she had him seated and had come back with some tea and biscuits she sat across from him in one of Sherlock's chairs. "So, let's have a look see, yeah?" She asked.

"E..excuse me?" John said bewildered by the old lady's lack of privacy.

"Your arm. That's why your here yeah? For him to find your soul-mate?"

"Well yeah. Um… do you have any sugar? No, never mind I'll get it." John said pushing himself up. He hobbled into the kitchen and threw open some cupboards. Not finding what he was looking for, he moved onto the next.

"No not that-" Mrs. Hudson began as John threw open the cupboards not finding the sugar but instead a jar of fingers.

"Um… are these...fingers?"

Sherlock had eventually got disgusted by the fact the DI and his brother were together. In all actuality he was actually pleased. He had felt bad for Lestrade, being stuck with Mycroft and all. As he got situated in the cab that was now taking him home he started thinking, wondering if he would ever find his John or if it was a lost cause for him to keep trying. Even his brother, who had always been determined that he would never be with his soul-mate had found him and was happy.

The cab slowly lurched through the busy streets and Sherlock continued to think. He had solved several cases and helped hundreds of people find their soul-mate. Hell, he was known for it, not that that is what he wanted to be known for, but regardless, he was. And yet he didn't have the ability to find his own? What a cruel world it was. A world where he wasn't allowed to be happy even after all of the stuff life had thrown at him already.

As the cab came to a stop, he threw some money at the driver and climbed out hopping over the rail instead of moving two feet to the side to go through the gate. Before anyone could tell he had exited the cab he was gone into the flat, his long dark coat flowing behind him like a cape.

He needed time to think. He pulled his coat off as he went up the steps taking them two at a time. "Mrs. Hudson, I won't be needing any tea this afternoon!" He called down the steps before throwing the door to his flat open.

"Ah I see you have already brought some…. Did you know Mycroft finally agreed to go out with Gavin?! He actually enjoyed it too. Six months! Six months they went without telling me!" He boomed in his baritone voice.

John was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, just staring at him. "My god he's even more beautiful in person." He breathed.

Sherlock's head snapped in his direction. "E..excuse me? Who are you?"

John's hands flew to his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. But god was it true. "Er… sorry, I'm John…"

John continued talking but Sherlock was not listening. His mind had stopped working and the only thing that was going through it right now was that this fellow's name was, in fact, John.