Author: MonkeyBard
Rating: PG
Summary: A familiar song follows Lestrade.
Genre: Dash o' Slash
Date: 23 July 2013
Prompt: Earworm: We've all had music get stuck in our heads. Now do the same to a character in your story.
A/N: I'm begging for trouble since it got stuck in my head last time, but I just had to go there again.

As a general rule, Greg wasn't opposed to the music of Bon Jovi. Hair metal wasn't his thing, but he held no animosity towards it as a genre. He knew, though, that John wasn't a fan, so when the song came on the car radio as he drove John and Sherlock home from the latest crime scene, he promptly reached over to change the station.

In the rear-view mirror, he caught a glimpse of the small smile that played across John's face as the song hit the chorus. That was odd. He switched stations and thought nothing more about it.

***

The damned chorus would not stop replaying in Greg's head. He'd tried to get it out any number of ways. Playing the whole song through from start to finish hadn't worked. An hour of classical music hadn't worked. Even listening to three full albums by his favourite band couldn't banish the bloody thing. It didn't help that the song seemed to be haunting him. Every time he turned on the radio that week, fucking Bon Jovi was stuck "half way there."

"Jesus Christ, just get there already," he muttered, shutting the thing off with more force than was strictly necessary.

***

He offered Sherlock and John a ride again, this time home from the Yard after they'd officially closed the case. All that was left was paperwork he knew Sherlock wouldn't do, and Greg was perfectly happy to put it off until morning himself.

"No, thanks," John said. "We're going for a late supper. You're welcome to join us."

"I'll pass thanks. Is it on the way? I'm happy to drop you off."

"We'll walk," answered Sherlock.

Greg nodded. "Wise choice, not getting in a car with me tonight. I've been stalked by Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer all bloody week. I've come to hate it. Ten to one it'll come up on the radio the minute I turn on the engine."

Was he imagining it or did John just smile? It was fleeting, like the little grin that had crossed his face the day the earworm had made its nest in Greg's brain. And was he mistaken or had the exact same expression just crossed Sherlock's face, too?

There was definitely a joke there somewhere. Or a secret. He almost demanded to know what the punch line was, or what he was missing. Then John and Sherlock exchanged a look and he immediately thought better of it.

"I don't know," said John lightly. "I don't think it's all that bad."

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