Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters: John Watson, DI Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes
Pairings: eventual John/Lestrade (implied Ace!Sherlock)
Rating: PG (this part, higher later)
A/N: Nope, still not telling you the prompt. :) This is a conversation I thought should happen...
Summary: February 1st, 2010, John moves properly into Baker Street and overhears an interesting conversation...
( Chapter One )
February 1st, 2010
February 1st, 2010
"Cheers, mate." John waved goodbye to the cabbie who had helped him get the last of his belongings from his old flat and Harry's storage locker. He closed the front door of 221B behind him and looked at what amounted to pretty much all his worldly goods, stacked up in the hallway. Not much to show for nearly forty years - one of the benefits and one of the downsides of a mostly transient life.
Well, it wasn't going to move itself. He picked up a large duffel bag full of clothes and started up the stairs but he stopped when he reached the landing and heard raised voices.
"Look, I'm just asking you to keep an eye out, OK? You don't know anything about him."
Lestrade - and he sounded completely exasperated. John wondered if he was ever anything else when Sherlock was around.
Sherlock snorted. "I knew everything about him within two minutes of meeting him."
Lestrade sighed. "Yeah, OK, you knew his shoe size and his job history and what his postman had for breakfast and all that guff, but you don't know him, Sherlock. People are much more than just what they do and where they've been and what phone they use."
"Why are you so worried? So far John has only proven himself to be decent, sensible and - God forbid! - a little protective."
Oh, that'll be me they're talking about then...
"I think I'd call shooting a man dead more than a little protective - and far from sensible."
Shit! John's stomach clenched at Lestrade's words. He looked around. OK, could I get upstairs and grab the gun without them hearing? Maybe Lestrade's already got it. Can't risk it. I can take this bag of clothes, maybe get some money from Harry, no, they'll check there first...
"Ridiculous," Sherlock scoffed. "John had nothing to do with that."
"Sherlock, you practically pointed him out to me at the scene and I could smell it all over him both then and yesterday morning. I don't mind feigning ignorance at the Yard over this one - actually no, I mind like hell - but at least do me the courtesy of acknowledging that you and I both know John fired that gun."
Wait - "feigning ignorance"? So he's not here to arrest me?
"Yes, about that... John mentioned you'd been quite attentive. Sniffing around my flat is one thing. Sniffing around my flatmate is quite another."
"For Pete's sake, I'm not 'sniffing around' anybody. I don't do that and you know it. I'm not interested."
"Wrong again, Lestrade," Sherlock snapped. "'Not interested' is what I am. You have the same mundane sexual urges as most of the rest of the population, you just choose to ignore them."
"Either way. I'm not..." Lestrade voice suddenly trailed off.
"What?" Sherlock snapped.
Lestrade's voice dropped and John couldn't make out what he was saying any more.
Seconds later the door of 221B opened and Sherlock peered out at where John was crouched on the half-landing. "Ah. Thought I heard you back, John."
John knew damn well he hadn't made a sound for the past five minutes. "Yeah, I was just bringing up the last of my stuff. Got a visitor?"
"Lestrade - but he was just leaving." Sherlock said.
"Afternoon, Doctor Watson." Lestrade pushed past Sherlock and came down the stairs towards John.
"D.I. Lestrade." John stepped back and pressed himself against the wall as Lestrade squeezed by him on the landing. He caught a hint of Lestrade's scent as he breathed in. Wow, he smells good...
Lestrade stopped and his eyes fixed on John's.
For one horrible moment John was convinced Lestrade had somehow heard him. He felt the colour flush to his cheeks. "D-did you want something, Inspector?" For God's sake, keep calm! He already knows you're guilty - no need to act like it!
Lestrade gave him a slow, wide grin, showing his teeth. "Not right now, Doctor Watson, thank you." He continued down the stairs.
John didn't move until he heard the front door slam shut behind the departing policeman. His heart was pounding, he was hot all over and there had been a definite rush of blood southwards. What the hell was wrong with him?
Never mind that - what the hell was right with Lestrade? If he could bottle whatever it was Lestrade was giving off, he'd be a millionaire!
"Everything alright, John?" Sherlock was still standing at the top of the stairs, smirking.
"Don't worry about Lestrade. He's very good at keeping secrets."
"Besides," Sherlock said as he headed back to the sofa, "I definitely think he has a soft spot for you."
John breathed out slowly through his mouth. He had a spot for Lestrade too - and it was soft right now, but if Lestrade looked at him like that again...
He adjusted his duffel bag on his shoulder and started up the stairs again. Maybe a cold shower would help...
( Chapter Three )
( Chapter Three )