Mycroft, Lestrade, Sherlock and John driving together in the same car for four and a half hours.
The mere thought of it was hellish, and it was far worse in actuality than in theory. But the Holmes boys' mother had insisted on them visiting for Christmas this year. Somehow Greg and John had gotten dragged into it as well. Sherlock and John were unaware of Mycroft and Greg's relationship (the two thought it best to keep things on the down low because of Mycroft's government job and Greg working in the police). But even though he didn't know why Greg had come, John was thankful for Greg during the tortuous car ride.
They'd had to share because Mycroft was the only one of them who owned a car. From the beginning the two Holmes boys had been arguing. Mycroft wanted to drive because it was his car after all, but Sherlock insisted that Mycroft was a bad driver, to which Mycroft brought up the three cars Sherlock had practically destroyed during secondary school. Eventually Lestrade broke in and said that he was driving and that was the end of it.
After Greg got in the driver's seat, Mycroft opened the passenger door to get in.
"Why does he get to sit up front?" complained Sherlock.
"Because it's my car," snapped Mycroft.
"I want to sit up front."
"Oh for fuck's sake, how old are you two?" asked John. "Both of you sit in the back," he said. John got in the passenger seat and Mycroft and Sherlock sat in the back.
Lestrade and John soon realised that putting the two of them in the back seat together had been a very poor decision, as within ten minutes of them leaving, Mycroft and Sherlock had broken into an argument about who was Mummy's favourite.
"Mothers always like their oldest children best," said Mycroft.
"They do not!" said Sherlock. "Mother liked me better."
"Really? Because I remember Mummy always made you stay up in your room when we had company over because she was embarrassed of you."
"At least I wasn't an annoying prat like you!"
"Me? You were the one who didn't know when to shut your mouth!"
"Well at least I didn't go digging through Mum's room and put on her lipstick!"
Greg chuckled slightly in the front seat.
"I did not!" said Mycroft, his cheeks flushed bright red.
"Yeah you did! Mother told me you used to all the time!"
"Mummy told me you were an accident!"
This resulted in Sherlock crossing his arms with a huff and turning away to pout. Mycroft did the same.
John and Lestrade exchanged a glance of relief that the two of them had finally shut up, but it didn't last long. By the time they got to the Holmes Estate, Greg and John were about ready to strangle the two brothers.
Sherlock and Mycroft's mother, Lilith was very sweet. Better yet, her presence in any room seemed to cast a spell on Mycroft and Sherlock that they wouldn't bicker; John could see them shooting nasty glares at each other whenever she wasn't looking, but when she was, they turned into polite angels with each other. If you'd only ever known them when their mother was in the room, you'd never even so much as suspect the bitter rivalry between them.
"There are several guest rooms and of course Sherlock and Mycroft's old bedrooms, so you two can sleep wherever you like," said Lilith. "Later Mycroft and Sherlock can show you two around the house."
Lestrade nearly laughed at the word house. If this was a house, his apartment was a cupboard.
Mycroft and Lestrade disappeared at some point in the evening, but John and Sherlock didn't dwell on it much. Sherlock was showing John around the house, which had a total of thirty-two rooms, twelve corridors, three floors including the basement and six staircases. More than enough for someone to get lost in without Sherlock or Mycroft to guide you.
Sherlock led John from Mycroft's old bedroom (which consisted of a bedroom, his own bathroom, and a small library), to Sherlock's down at the complete opposite end of the hallway, which John thought was probably for the best, seeing as how the two of them bickered.
"This used to be my roo - oh my God what are you two doing?!" shrieked Sherlock upon opening the door. Mycroft was kneeling down in front of Greg, whose pants were pulled down to his knees. If John hadn't slammed the door shut, Sherlock probably would have simply stood their gaping at the two of them for God knows how long. Sherlock and John exchanged a horrified glance at what they'd just seen.
Sherlock was decidedly more upset that Mycroft and Lestrade were doing that in his bedroom than he was that they'd just walked in on it.
"That's my room!" said Sherlock, banging on the door. "Why can't you do that in your room?!"
Mycroft and Lestrade opened the door, looking embarrassed. John couldn't tell who was more humiliated: Lestrade, whose genitals had just been exposed to the two of them, or Mycroft, whose mouth was pleasuring said genitals. They quite obviously hadn't finished, though John imagined being walked in on by your lover's little brother tended to kill the mood down there.
That evening, by far was the most uncomfortable Christmas party John had ever attended (even worse than the previous one when Sherlock had deduced about Molly's present which turned out to be for Sherlock). The evening consisted of uncomfortable silences, Mycroft and Lestrade avoiding eye contact with John and Sherlock, and John and Sherlock deciding they'd take one of the guest bedrooms to sleep in.
The car ride home, Sherlock and John sat in the front seat; John drove and the entire four and a half hour car ride was spent in silence.