A/N Hey My Lovelies!!! So I came up with this idea that John and Greg pretend to date to make Sherlock and Mycroft jealous...Here is the first half...the second half will be posted to my Mystrade OneShot book so keep your eyes open for that!! Hope you like it!!! Enjoy <3

"How is it, that the two smartest men in the whole of London, are also the densest?" Greg whined, dropping his head against the bar. John hummed sympathetically, patting his friend's shoulder.

This had become a bit of a ritual for the pair, meeting once a week to sulk about the Holmes brothers. They had discovered each other's feelings for the brothers a while back.

"You know, it's not right, both of us pining like fucking teens." John grumbled, spinning his beer between his hands. "We should do something about it."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Sherlock hates it when I date. Maybe we can make them jealous?" Greg's head popped up almost comically, causing John to giggle.

"John. I have a plan!" Greg spun to face John, the blogger having to catch him as he nearly fell. Greg grabbed John's shoulder and looked at him seriously. "John Watson, will you go out with me so we can make the Holmes Brothers jealous?" John blinked uncertainly, he had never pictured himself with Greg.

It wasn't that Greg wasn't attractive, because by all standards, he certainly was. John shrugged, placing his hand on Greg's thigh.

"Why the fuck not?"

Less than an hour later, John and Greg were stumbling up the steps to Baker Street, snogging messily and giggling.

It was weird, kissing Greg. Not unpleasant, the man was a pretty skilled kisser, but it just felt off. There was no real attraction between them, but the alcohol was making it easier to lose himself in the feeling of Greg's lips and hands exploring his body.

John scrabbled with the door handle as Greg kept pawing at his shirt. They stumbled back into the flat, John trying to direct their inevitable fall onto the couch.

"John?" The unmistakable baritone of his flatmate sent John reeling back, only to be pulled close again by Greg. Right. Supposed to be making him jealous. John spun in Greg's arms tilting his neck to give the DI room to kiss and suck the skin there. "What the hell-"

"I thought you would be at Bart's."

"I finished early. Y-You and Gavin-"

"It's Greg, and yes."

"Since when?"

"About an hour ago."

"Why?" Because I'm sick of waiting for you. John moaned when Greg hit a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, rolling his head back against the other man's shoulder.

"Because Greg's hot, I'm desperate, and we're both single." John turned his head and caught Greg's lips in what he hoped was a searing kiss. "And he's a fucking great kisser." Greg chuckled against his lips and licked gently into John's mouth, making his toes curl.

The swish of fabric and the slam of a door jolted John away from Greg again.

Sherlock had barricaded himself in his bedroom and soon enough, the flat was filled with an unpleasant screech from his violin.

"Sorry Mate. Thought for a second there he was gonna rip my face off." John's stomach tightened and he stepped away from Greg.

"It's alright. I wasn't kidding, you are a great kisser." Greg laughed and blushed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "You want to crash here?" John asked, uncertain as to how far Greg wanted to make Sherlock think they went.

"Depends. You want Sherlock to think we fucked?" John blushed at the thought of Sherlock thinking he was a slag. "Pretty sure that's what he's already thinking."

"Yeah, might as well. He already thinks it, and it's too late to get you a cab." Greg nodded, following John upstairs.

Sherlock woke the next morning to find Geoffrey still in the flat. His clothes were rumpled and he looked absolutely disheveled.

There was a massive, purple mark on his neck, just above the collarbone.

The thought of John's lips on George made Sherlock physically ill. He scowled and made his way into the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee and blatantly ignoring the DI.

"Morning." Gavin said, sounding entirely too chipper. Sherlock grumbled his response, grabbing a slice of bread from the loaf and hunting for something to put on it.

"Alright Greg, showers all yours- oh, Sherlock." John stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his hair and skin still wet from the shower. He was dressed in nothing more than a towel. "I-I didn't think you'd be up this early-"

"I couldn't sleep." Sherlock tried to look anywhere but John, he hadn't missed the marks covering John's neck either.

An image of Greg and John writhing together flashed across his mind and he tossed the bread on the counter. He suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore.

John shrugged and walked over to Geoff, standing beside the DI and draping an arm over his shoulders. Lestrade grabbed John's waist and pulled him onto his lap, John letting out a shocked giggle at the action.

Sherlock fled the room when their lips met.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, typing out a hurried message to his brother.

Please have your pet remove his tongue from John's mouth - SH

Whatever are you talking about Sherlock? - M

Gavin - SH

He has his grubby hands all over John and I don't like it - SH

You mean Greg Lestrade? - M

Yes. That one - SH

Why on Earth is he with your companion? - M

In John's own words - SH

'Because Greg's hot, I'm desperate, and we're both single.' - SH

Oh dear Lord - M

Make it stop - SH

Why don't you do something about it if it bothers you so much? - M

I'll deal with John if you deal with Greg? - SH

Fine - M

A few weeks passed before anything happened. John and Greg kept up their little charade, acting like a couple whenever the Holmes brothers were near.

One night, John was getting ready for a 'date' with Greg when Sherlock burst into his room, flushed and breathless.

"Jesus Sherlock, what the-"

"You can't go out with Markus."

"Who?"

"Lestrade!" John rolled his eyes, tossing his sweater on the bed and turning to glare at his flatmate.

"Why the fuck not? I like Greg, he likes me, and it's not like anyone else is showing any bloody interest in either of us." John crossed his arms defensively and held his flatmates eyes, letting his frustration show. "Do you know how long it's been since I've shagged someone Sherlock?"

"Lestrade spent last night here, so that means it's been less than twenty-four hours." John blushed, he had forgotten that they were pretending to have a sexual relationship.

"I mean before Greg you idiot." John snapped, stepping closer to Sherlock and trying to ignore the thrill that traced his spine. "Why do you care if I'm fucking Greg anyways? I thought you were, how did you put it, married to your work?" Sherlock growled, actually growled, and stepped closer to John.

Before he could react, John found himself crowded against the wall, with a very angry Consulting Detective pressed against him.

"J-Jesus Sherlock! What the fuck-"

"I don't want him touching you John." Sherlock's voice was a rough growl as he pressed his lips against John's neck, right over the spot where Greg had left a bruise a few nights ago.

"Sh-Sher-" John's hips bucked against the taller man's, when he felt Sherlock bite down on his collarbone.

"You're mine, John Watson." Sherlock roughly shoved his hips back against the wall and moved to growl in John's ear. "And I'm not too keen on sharing. Do I make myself clear?" John nodded, whimpering as Sherlock's hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Good, now, call Lestrade and tell him it's over." John nodded, grabbing the phone and fighting to dial Greg's number as Sherlock stalked out of the room.

"Really need to work on your timing John."

"It fucking worked."

"I know."

"What-"

"I'll call you back John."

"See you next week?"

"Yep. Sounds good."

"John! My room, now!" Sherlock called up the stairs, making John tremble with need. He grinned gleefully and hurried down the stairs.

"About bloody time."