Sherlock Oneshots (Mystrade/Johnlock/Mormor)

Let Me Help You - Mystrade/Johnlock

Greg's P.O.V

"Oi! Open up!" I banged with both fists on the dorm door of my two friends, John and Sherlock. My roommate was missing, and I needed the help of the only consulting detective in the world, and his best friend. John isn't useless; he's training to be a doctor, an army doctor, no less. I really needed their help. I was really fucking stressed. What if something happened to him? That thought was enough to make me tear up.

"What's up, Greg?" John opened the door. His hair was a mess and his chubby face was bright red. Clearly, he and his 'best friend' had been snogging. Good to know. "You okay?"

"No. No I'm not."

"What's going on, Geoff?" Classic Sherlock. He never remembered my name. Dickhead. His appearance was even more shook up than John's. His curly hair was mattered and his shirt was half open.

"It's Greg, and I need your help."

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Mike's missing."

"Who?" They both asked.

"Mycroft." Fuck, I accidently called him his nickname. He refused to let anyone give him a nickname. Not even his own mother. But, he liked me. At least, that's what he said. I liked him too, and needed desperately to find my best friend.

The three of us raced through our high school, up and down stairs, around corners and through hallways. I kept calling out to him, getting more and more scared with every second. He never went off school grounds, and he never left my side. Where the fuck was he?

"Look, we need to go outside. Search the grounds. He clearly isn't inside." I suggested, catching my breath. "You two check the football fields and behind the building, and I'll check the lake." Yeah, I hate how posh our school is. Oh well.

They both agreed, and we split up. I headed down to the lake, torch in hand. The sun had gone down by now and it was getting really dark. I was so fucking worried for him. He hadn't taken anything with him, not even his phone. I ran through the bush and made it to the lake. There, sitting right on the dock, was my best friend.

I don't know why, but I stayed back, waiting for him to do something. I sent a text to both John and Sherlock, telling them to go back to their dorm because I'd found him. They said okay and told me that they'd headed back.

I turned my focus back to Mike, and heard him crying. That was weird, because I'd never heard him cry before. We had been friends for 6 years. And I had never seen him cry. I wanted to run to him, hug him and comfort him through the night. Take him back to our dorm and take care of him. I wanted to ask what was wrong.

He stopped crying, and started talking to himself. He did that a lot, and I thought it was kind of cute. Though I never said anything.

"You're fucking weak." He grumbled, wiping away his tears. "Man up and say something."

That broke my bloody heart. What or who was he talking about?

I decided to get out of my hiding place and comfort him. Or, at least try.

"Mike?" I whispered, standing about a metre from him. His head shot up and he turned around to face me.

"Gregory? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you!" I said, raising my voice. "I went to football, and then got back to our room and you weren't there! You left your stuff in our room and I was worried sick about you! Why are you here, anyway? And why didn't you tell me?"

He stood up, and walked over to me. I thought he might walk past me, or hit me in the face. Instead, he fell onto me and wrapped his arms around my waist.