Morning, Sunshine (Sherlock & Peter)

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

"That's right, sort of. I didn't really ruin his kitchen, I'm just rather terrible at cooking I suppose."

Greg stared. Sherlock's voice turned different. The high-low jump; the voice he emulated to control people who he thought were too stupid to notice. Greg found in antithetical, but occasionally amusing. But right now, it was anything but. Peter wasn't stupid, he didn't deserve this. Sherlock Holmes didn't deserve him.

And still, Sherlock's phony voice continued on with a phony laugh, "I didn't have the slightest idea that you two would know each other. This is all quite awkward, isn't it? Perhaps we should go in the kitchen, I feel everybody is a little uncomfortable."

"Got that bloody right," Greg hissed at him, all the while his eyes pleading, Don't do this to him, please.

He watched with a kind of painful pity as Peter climbed off Sherlock looking stunned, torn. His arms were drawn around himself. “I don’t even know where to start here. I’m sorry, Greg, I didn’t...”

Peter looked undeniably wounded. Greg wanted to tell him not to apologize, it wasn't his fault, it was all Sherlock. But nothing he could say would be remote compensation, he knew, when Peter asked so brokenly, “Was anything not a lie last night?”

He doesn't lie, he omits. He twists. He is the snake cut into pieces who prefers it that way, able to go more directions because of it. And at the same time, Greg could never stop defending him. Why? Never more did he wish he knew, so he could break it. He was embarrassed for Peter, ashamed for what Sherlock was lacking.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock was not new to experiencing things going wrong within a matter of seconds. And it could hardly be said that he hadn't been in worse, or more dangerous situations. An angry almost-stranger and familiar Detective Inspector he could handle. Physically, at least. Holmes had fought off more than six men at once before, and so two within the comfort of his own flat was hardly going to be difficult.
But nobody hit him.
And for the first time, Sherlock found himself venomously wondering why nobody had hit him. At least when he did, he knew what to do. He knew what was going on and could quickly gain control of the situation.

The thought that he now couldn't quite terrified him.

In less than moment Peter was far away, and Lestrade was furious.

“Was anything not a lie last night?”
The Consulting Detective flinched, and his eyes grew a little wide. Whether he was surprised at the statement or his own reaction, he didn't even know anymore. That was not a lie. Somehow the Detective Inspector could see straight through his charades (a thought that made him truthfully quite paranoid), and so pretending wouldn't really work, would it?
He resisted the urge to sink back into the cushions of the couch and retreat into his mind. The tension and emotion of the room was confusing his hard drive. He couldn't cope with things like this. That was why he avoided them.

"I didn't lie, just about my name. I knew that you would have heard it before somewhere and be immediately uninterested. I didn't know that you two knew each other. If you don't believe that, then there is nothing I can say."
God, why was it that most times other people hated the truth when he told it. But when he tried to hide it for them they shamed him because of it, and called him a liar. Well let them have it, the truth, that is. Sherlock vaguely wondered whether they would believe it.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Between Greg’s seething comment and Max’s flinch, Peter was acutely aware of the emotions in the room. Well, everyone’s but his own. He didn’t understand why he was upset about all this. After all, this was a one night thing. Why did he care what Max’s name was? If it hadn’t been for the fact Greg was right there, it wouldn’t have mattered at all. He would have left and went about his business none the wiser. But now it was a mess.

"I didn't lie, just about my name. I knew that you would have heard it before somewhere and be immediately uninterested. I didn't know that you two knew each other. If you don't believe that, then there is nothing I can say."

“How would you know a damn thing about what I would or would not be interested in?” He asked in annoyance, thinking that there were too many people out there who thought they knew best about things they just knew nothing about. “Had you been honest with me, I wouldn’t have cared who you were.”

Sure, he’d heard of Sherlock Holmes and that he was completely insane, but a damn good consultant. Peter wouldn’t have cared. Sure, he would have tried to have a more in depth conversation, maybe played with the other man a bit more than he had, but what’s done was done.

He leaned a little closer to Max, making sure that his point was going to get across here. He did seem pretty dense for a genius.

”The only thing I would have done differently would have been to take last night somewhere else.”

Because it was absolutely ridiculous that he was putting Greg through this. That wasn’t fair in the slightest, even if it was an accident. He stepped back from Max or whoever he was, and glanced over at Greg. God, this was a mess. After they broke up, they stayed friends, but this could be an end to that.

“I really am sorry,” he offered, not sure what else he could say here. “I know you think I Apologise too much, but...I think this time it’s warranted.”

If ever there were a time that he did owe an apology, then this was it.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

"I didn't lie, just about my name. I knew that you would have heard it before somewhere and be immediately uninterested." For some reason, through his anger, that made Greg very sad. Sherlock deciding to hide his name to protect himself. To make himself an object of interest. Like he wasn't already - like he couldn't be as he was. And perhaps not sexually, but it still made him a bit disappointed in the interests of society in general. "I didn't know that you two knew each other. If you don't believe that, then there is nothing I can say."

Gregory was surprised at how honest he was sure Sherlock was being now. Perhaps not the lightest way to enforce his point, but as far as Sherlock Holmes went, it was incredibly graceful. Greg was... glad. A bit proud, even if he was still annoyed.

But poor, dear Peter, didn't have a clue what rare glimpse of emotional honesty he was being shown.
“How would you know a damn thing about what I would or would not be interested in? Had you been honest with me, I wouldn’t have cared who you were.” And Gregory also believed that. "The only thing I would have done differently would have been to take last night somewhere else.”

Peter attention turned to him for a moment - "I really am sorry. I know you think I apologize too much, but...I think this time it’s warranted.”

Gregory wished it wouldn't have been awfully inappropriate to hug the poor man right now. "It may be warranted, but I really don't mind, honestly," Greg tried to comfort him in what little way he could. "I'm not angry, Peter, don't worry about it." He wished Peter would take this still intact trust for granted and not think too much into it. "But I think... well, perhaps I should go... make us up some breakfast, or something. Yes. That'll... you two need to talk."

He felt intrusive, and had this not been Peter, amusing, and an uncomfortable feeling urged him to leave the room already. He nodded to them, standing and, as he walked by Peter paused and said quietly, "I'm sorry as well. But - he's a good man, Peter. He is, he just... he tries." He gave Sherlock a pointed look, one that said very plainly, 'Deal with it,' and turned his back on the two of them to figure out what he could make for breakfast with the few groceries he bought for Sherlock and himself last week.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

“How would you know a damn thing about what I would or would not be interested in? Had you been honest with me, I wouldn’t have cared who you were.”
Sherlock was internally momentarily stunned, but didn't miss a beat as he let out a laugh that was both harsh and bitter. His eyes flickered to meet Peter's, and perhaps it was intentional that he let something in them show just how much he believed that. Holmes opened his mouth, to say something to accompany this, to tell him how unlikely that really was, or perhaps to prove his own point - that people don't like Sherlock Holmes - but found himself freezing as he considered the possibility that... perhaps, maybe... that Peter was telling the truth.

All too soon the moment was lost, and Peter and Lestrade were then talking to each other. Sherlock hardly got the impression that he had been forgotten, however, and found himself displeased at this realization - which was new. Usually he rather liked people to pay attention to him, but this time it was different. It seemed wrong and uncomfortable, and he hadn't the slightest idea how to behave.

Holmes slipped from his unpleasant reverie to notice Lestrade saying something quietly to Peter, and his brain still felt to be mostly offline when the Detective Inspector turned and gave Sherlock a look that he felt he should understand. There was meaning behind it, but the consulting detective found himself unable to detect just what, exactly, it was.

As Lestrade turned his back once more, Sherlock's eyes flickered to where Peter stood, before becoming suddenly interested in the pattern of the light on the rug. Here was the part where his supreme intellect and unrivaled way of thinking rendered itself useless, and Holmes felt his own mind burning itself to dust as he struggled to determine what he needed to be saying to fix this.
He felt a cold terror at the realization that he didn't fix things. Usually he was the one to break them, and neglect the fact that they needed to be mended.

He suddenly felt rather stupid. And that was the most unpleasant feeling in the world.

"I understand that I have let you down. And... Greg, also." His words were somewhat slow, methodic. He raised his head to look at Peter, as if nudging him into saying something. Sherlock realized that Lestrade was right, they did have to talk. But he found himself at a loss as to what, exactly, Peter needed to talk about.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

It seemed like the entire morning was going sideways. Peter had thought he’d get up, get some coffee, and get going. Only, nothing ever seemed to be so simple about something so...simple. Instead he was standing there, trying to argue out something he wasn’t supposed to care about. But...well, Max had brought something out in him that he hadn’t seen in a while, not since he was trying to give Greg a go at dating. So, of course, the other man was there to witness the awkward moment.

He could deal with that. What he couldn’t deal with was the snort of laughter Max let out when he’d tried to set the record straight. He didn’t like the insinuation that he was a liar, that Sherlock Holmes was calling the kettle black after his little stunt. Peter still felt irrationally hurt about that.

"I'm sorry as well. But - he's a good man, Peter. He is, he just... he tries."

Tries at what? Making life difficult? He was tempted to ask for some clarification as Greg left the room, but what was the point? Clearly, Greg meant for him to figure that out on his own, otherwise he would have said more. So Peter let him go, turning his attention over to where Sherlock Holmes, of all people, was sitting and staring at some spot between them on the floor. He looked a little lost – something Peter fully understood. He’d alternately been caught between being mad and being out of his league with all this.

"I understand that I have let you down. And... Greg, also."

Peter allowed himself a bit of a sigh, suddenly feeling a bit deflated at that admission. Sherlock hadn’t let him down, it was more that he’d let himself get let down. Of course he wouldn’t have been if Sherlock had been honest, but he was starting to see why he hadn’t been. Clearly, he didn’t think that anyone could like him for him, but Peter never did follow the rest of the crowd in situations like that.

Sitting down in Lestrade’s vacated seat, Peter reached for his abandoned coffee cup, thinking that he really should have gotten his own, but right then it would have looked pretty bad to follow Lestrade into the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what they could possibly work out, but he wasn’t about to run from whatever this was. He was a fixer and this was definitely a mess that needed fixing.

“You didn’t let me or Greg down,” Peter offered, looking down into the coffee cup. “I’m really one to talk about personal insecurities.”

He shrugged his bad shoulder a bit to empathise that point. His scars always seemed to look worse to him in the morning than at any other time of the day. But he wasn’t lying or hiding them. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt, after all. It wasn’t in him to hide from life.

“And there’s no going back in time, but I can’t change that I’m a bit hurt to find out that my really, really great night was with someone who lied through it. I honestly don’t know what to do here.”

He looked up, trying to meet Max...Sherlock’s eyes. They were still the same, but at the same time, Peter didn’t know what to think.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

They'd gotten eggs. He was pretty sure Peter liked eggs. At least, he'd eaten them the times Greg had made breakfast for him. Sherlock probably didn't, but Sherlock didn't really like anything. He could hear Sherlock speaking again, a few feet away; the way the flat was position, you could hear anything anywhere; it was basically one big room.

"I understand that I have let you down. And... Greg, also." Admittance. That was new, Greg thought. He found himself feeling worse for Sherlock as the minutes went by, and he was pretty sure if he didn't feel somewhat responsible for all of this he would have left by now. (Though really, he couldn't blame himself for this mess, that was all Sherlock.)

Of course, Peter's answer was understanding but painfully honest; he could sympathize with how Sherlock must be feeling right now - assuming Sherlock was for once following regular emotional protocol - having found himself guilty at Peter's hands constantly for a good few months. He wanted to tell Sherlock to work it out, but he couldn't really imagine what he might do himself, were he in Sherlock's position. And Sherlock, being even less socially adapt than himself, probably had no clue.

He sighed, dropping the eggs onto the sizzling frying pan, letting his mind wander away from the situation a few feet behind him. He'd let them try to talk it out for a bit, yes. Then he'd drive Peter home and... well, that would be that, with any luck. He knew that he was severely oversimplifying things, but it was the only way to underwhelm himself. And he hoped above all else that neither Peter nor Sherlock had broken each other, because they were both pretty messed up enough as it was - and he meant that in the kindest way possible.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

"You didn't let me or Greg down,"

Peter spoke not long after Lestrade had disappeared into the kitchen ('don't look in the bread bin, for Christ's sake, the tension in this flat is uncomfortable enough as it is without you discovering that'), but what he said only increased the ruckus inside Sherlock's head, and caused an unwilling knit to form in his brow.
He was finding himself proven wrong a discomforting amount of times for one morning.
And a morning in the company of members of the police force, of all things - those he gleefully outsmarted on a regular basis.
Dear Lord, sex had ruined him.

"I'm really one to talk about personal insecurities. And there's no going back in time, but I can't change that I'm a bit hurt to find out that my really, really great night was with someone who lied through it."

Well, that was... certainly not the answer he had been expecting. But then he hadn't really been predicting what would happen from a point much earlier in the situation. His mind had run somewhat off track when his 'Max' disguise came tumbling down. It was a shame, he had rather liked that one. 'Max' had been not too dissimilar to himself - only with an interest in social skills and something of a natural sexual appetite, apparently. Not to mention Peter had been far more confident and comfortable in the presence of 'Max'.
What Holmes struggled to grasp, however, was why his minor bluff had caused such distress. It wasn't the worst thing he had done, by far - he had only changed his name (and, subtly, his behaviour) for the ears of a stranger so that they would both walk away after an enjoyable event for the two of them. And what made it more infuriating was how the consulting detective found his mind dampened by an apparent leak in the emotional dungeon of his mind palace. Guilt was blurring his senses ever more sharply with each tap, tap, tap of that metaphorical drip.

"I honestly don't know what to do here."
Sherlock snorted in response, the muddled mess of his mouth mumbling out a reply of: "I'm Sherlock Holmes," - somehow forgetting to add on the important bit of that explanation, 'how do you think I feel, I'm a sociopath'. Not to matter, Peter probably got the gist anyway.

The man wrapped his gown more firmly around his frame, taking a deep breath as though mimicking a drowning man starved of air.

"I think I understand your distress at the situation," he lied. It was likely pretty obvious that he was making up whatever he said as he went along, but it was almost reflexive for Sherlock to pretend as though he had a plan. His gaze flickered up to fix on Peter as he went on. "You are disappointed that I expected your actions to be similar to that of the vast majority, and therefore spun a story to keep your interest, effectively lying to you in order to have sex."

He broke off, squinting at something nonexistent to the left of Peter's ear, lost in thought.

"No, no no - perhaps it is rather that you are upset about Gregory's presence, something which, had we both been aware of the circumstances, could have been avoided. You evidently prefer to disrupt the cause of any unnecessary suffering, an action that could have been taken under more favourable conditions. Unless it is both of those reasons. It could indeed be a combination of the two, or even something I am currently unable to-"
Sherlock made a vague gesture with his hand.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter wondered how he got into situations like this. Well, he did know. The thing in his pants was pretty much to blame for that. But the idea that he was letting all this get to him just made no sense. He’d probably had dozens of one night stands lie to him. He had never been upset about it before. But Max or whatever he wanted to be called had done something the others never did – he’d made Peter feel special. He hadn’t had that in a while, not since he freaked out on Greg and thrown that away. He was just terrible at anything that lasted longer than a night or two, and yet, here he was moping about this. He needed to get his head around the situation and check all this emotion at the door. Because even though he was completely in the right here, he was starting to feel bad about things. He didn’t enjoy making scenes and he certainly didn’t like making Max/Sherlock feel bad about things. He had been a virgin last night, and he’d been pretty clueless about things, even if Peter was the one duped in the end. It was almost comical and if he got anymore stressed out, he’d probably start laughing about it. This was one of those times when he wished he were a drinker. Life would be much easier if he were.


"I think I understand your distress at the situation. You are disappointed that I expected your actions to be similar to that of the vast majority, and therefore spun a story to keep your interest, effectively lying to you in order to have sex."

Well, that about summed it up, he supposed. Maybe...if he didn’t understand it himself, he couldn’t rightly expect Max to be able to, either.


"No, no no - perhaps it is rather that you are upset about Gregory's presence, something which, had we both been aware of the circumstances, could have been avoided. You evidently prefer to disrupt the cause of any unnecessary suffering, an action that could have been taken under more favourable conditions. Unless it is both of those reasons. It could indeed be a combination of the two, or even something I am currently unable to-"

Peter sighed, taking another sip from the coffee he’d kidnapped.

“Probably a combination of the two.” He shrugged a bit, doing his best to be nonchalant about it. He’d already made a fool of himself, after all. “At this point, it’s a comedy of errors, so why bother trying to figure it out?”

And if that wasn’t the short of it, he didn’t know what was. It all came down to the fact that nothing about any of this could be changed. It was where things went from here. And Peter knew how things were going to have to go.

“So instead, I guess we figure out where we go from here.”

And wasn’t that going to be fun.