Excerpt from Sherlock: Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti) by IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Sherlock looked between Mycroft and Greg and felt half happy, half nauseous; Greg kept flicking glances to Mycroft when he thought no one was looking, and his fingers were twitching like he wanted to reach out and touch Mycroft. Sherlock rolled his eyes and John nudged him.
Choosing to ignore his best friend, Sherlock asked, 'Es-tu sûr de vouloir sortir avec Lestrade?'
['Are you sure you want to date Lestrade?']
As the only other person in the car who spoke French, Mycroft replied. 'Bien sûr que j'en suis sûr.'
'Peut-être que c'est que tu ne fais que le désirer?' Sherlock suggested.
['Maybe it's just lust.']
'Non, je l'aime,' Mycroft said.
Sherlock snorted. 'Qu'est ce qui le rend si spécial?' he asked. 'Pourquoi lui?'
['What makes him so special? Why him?']
'Il y'a une multitude de raisons,' Mycroft finally said.
['There are many reasons.']
'Donne m'en une…' Sherlock asked.
'Pourquoi tant d'insistance?'
['Why do you want to know?']
The curly-haired teen huffed in frustration. 'Je veux juste savoir. Et ne dis pas que parce que c'est qu'il est bon au lit!'
['Just tell me! And don't you dare say anything about his skills in bed!']
Mycroft couldn't help chuckling, but decided to give his brother an honest answer. 'C'est juste parce que c'est lui, Sherlock,' he said. 'Il est amusant, intelligent, courageux… il me fait rire, il se soucie de moi, il est intéressant. Je crois que je ne peux pas te dire exactement pourquoi je l'aime.'
['It's just him, Sherlock. He's... funny, smart, brave... he makes me smile and laugh. He cares about me, he's interesting. I can't honestly pinpoint exactly what it is about him that I like.']
Sherlock scowled. 'T'es sérieux?'
Sherlock wet his lips slowly and glanced at Greg, who was trying not to stare at them. 'Vraiment?' he asked.
'C'est pas juste parce qu'il est sexy et qu'il te touche?'
['And it's not just because he's hot and touches you?']
Mycroft smiled slowly. 'Non, mais il y'a un peu de ça,' he said. 'Et puis… pourquoi tant de question... il te plait bien...?'
['No, but that does help,' he said. 'Why, are you interested in him?']
'NON!' Sherlock practically shrieked, making John jolt and Greg glance over the seat at him. 'Non, Lestrade ne m'intéresse pas tant que ça.'
['NO! No, I am so not interested in Lestrade!']
'Okay, I heard my name,' Greg butted in, the sound of English words breaking Mycroft from the conversation with his brother. 'Are you talking about me?' the brunette asked.
'Would it help if I lied and said no?' Mycroft asked.
Greg chuckled. 'I don't care if you're talking about me,' he shrugged.
'Isn't Lestrade a French name?' Sherlock demanded in English. 'You should be able to speak French.'
Greg grinned slyly. 'Who says I don't?'
That made Mycroft jolt and he had turned to stare at Greg, who was picking at his nails. 'Excuse me?' he asked.
Greg smirked. 'No one ever asked if I spoke another language,' he shrugged.
'You speak French?' Sherlock asked.
Greg twisted in his seat to look over at the younger boy. 'En es-tu certain Sherlock?' he said in perfect French. 'Je parle pas français peut-être?'
['I don't know, Sherlock. Do I speak French?']
Sherlock's mouth dropped open and Mycroft gaped openly as he stared at the road. John burst into laughter and had to hold his stomach while Greg snickered.
'Oh God, that's hilarious,' John wheezed.
'You never told me you speak French,' Mycroft huffed.
'You never asked,' Greg shrugged, turning back to face the windscreen.
'So you understood everything?' Sherlock asked after he remembered how to speak.
'Oui,' Greg said in French. 'Et j'apprécie que tu te fasses du souci pour Mycroft mais je crois que je ferais de mon mieux pour ne jamais le blesser.' He reached out and touched Mycroft's arm softly. 'Parce que je tiens trop à lui.'
['Yes. And I appreciate you worrying over Mycroft, but I'll do my best not to hurt him. I care too much.']
'Si jamais tu fais du mal à mon frère, je te tue,' Sherlock promised.
['If you hurt my brother I will kill you.']
'Je n'en doute pas,' Greg replied.
Sherlock nodded in satisfaction and sat back down, folding his arms across his seat.
There were a few minutes of silence before John cleared his throat. 'So...' the short boy said, 'I'm the only one who's completely lost.'
Mycroft chuckled and Greg grinned, while Sherlock asked, 'Who taught you French?'
'Hello, my last name's Lestrade,' Greg said. 'My mum's dad was French; grew up there, married an English girl. They moved to London when my grandma fell pregnant with Mum. When Mum was fifteen they died in a car accident, but my grandpa taught my mum French, and she taught me.'
'Unbelievable,' Mycroft muttered. 'We could have held entire conversations in French if you'd told me.'
'Well we can now,' Greg said in English before easily slipping into French. 'Ça te tente de laisser les gamins là et de se faire une partie de jambes en l'air du tonnerre sur la banquette arrière?'
['What's say we ditch the kiddies and have wild, passionate sex in the backseat?']
'Oi, I can still understand you!' Sherlock shouted while Mycroft blushed brightly. 'Wankers,' Sherlock muttered.
