WYG (wastingyourgum) wrote,

Fic: Lone Wolf (J/L), Chapter 7

Title: Lone Wolf, Chapter Seven
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters: John Watson, D.I. Greg Lestrade
Pairings: John/Lestrade
Rating: R
Warnings: none
Genre: Slash
Words: ~3300
A/N: Deep breath... this is where we start getting backstory... and other things.

Summary: March 28th, 2010, John finds himself with a rare free evening... What's a boy to do?

Previous Chapters: ( One ) Two ) Three ) Four ) Five )Six )

Chapter Seven

March 28th, 2010

John was right. Knowing that Lestrade cared didn't make it better. He couldn't shake the memory of Lestrade's face - the concern, the relief - and then the pain when Sherlock mentioned Sarah.

John was confused and annoyed by Lestrade's reaction. So what if he'd had a date? Lestrade had been the one who given him the cold shoulder. What did he expect? No way was John going to sit and pine for a man who couldn't decide what he wanted. No matter how gorgeous he was... or how good he smelled... or how good those jeans had made his arse look...


Sitting alone in an empty flat on a Sunday evening, bored out of his mind was not helping. He grabbed his phone and thumbed out a message.

Sherlock's out for the night. Fancy a drink?

He scrolled down the list of contacts but when he stopped, it wasn't Sarah's number he'd selected - it was Lestrade's.

God no. That wouldn't be fair to anybody - Sarah, Lestrade or himself.

John sat and stared at his phone for a few minutes before it rang in his hand. The sudden noise and vibration startled him and he dropped it. By the time he scrambled to pick it up again he didn't have time to look at the caller ID before he breathlessly answered it.


"John? Everything alright? I tried calling Sherlock but his phone's off."

Lestrade. Great. Talk of the devil...

"No, I mean yes, everything's fine, I just... couldn't find my phone for a minute. Sherlock's in Minsk."


"Somebody got in touch on his website earlier. He flew out this afternoon."

"Crap. Any idea when he'll be back?"


"Oh well - it wasn't that urgent. Just a question on a case from last year. I'll fire him off an email."

"Listen, Lestrade," John took a deep breath. He had to do something - and even if Lestrade was determined to be a bloody monk that didn't mean he couldn't be a mate. "If you're free tonight, d'you fancy going out for a drink? Grab a few pints, have a bit of a natter, that sort of thing - as mates, yeah?" he added quickly, as he heard Lestrade draw breath to object. "I'd rather we get to know each other the old fashioned way without Sherlock just telling us each other's life stories."

There was quite a long pause before Lestrade answered. "Yeah... Might be better if you came round mine though - I'm guessing you have a few questions I don't really want to discuss in public."

"More than a few, if I'm honest," John admitted. "If you're OK to talk about it."

Another long pause. "Sure, why not. Got a pen?"


Lestrade's house turned out to be a modest, suburban, semi-detached villa with a slightly overgrown garden. The front door had frosted glass panels and John could make out a blurry impression of Lestrade approaching the door down the well-lit hall. He could also spot the exact moment Lestrade recognised his scent and came to a brief halt before carrying on and unlocking the door. It swung open to reveal him dressed much the same as the day before, in casual jeans and a dark green shirt.

"Evening, John. Found me OK then?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"You better come in."

John nodded and stepped inside as Lestrade moved back to allow him to pass.

"Cup of tea - or something stronger?" Lestrade asked.

"Umm, what have you got?"

"There's some Stella in the fridge... or we can see what's lurking in the drinks cabinet?"

"No, Stella's fine."

Lestrade vanished through into the kitchen.

John looked around at the furniture, TV, DVD collection, paintings on the walls, small pile of laundry on the end of an ironing board shoved up against the wall. The coffee table had several empty mugs on it, along with a remote control, and some newspapers. There were no family photos but other than that it was a staggeringly normal house. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting but he felt somehow disappointed.

Lestrade reappeared with two bottles and an opener. "Did you want a glass?"

"No, don't go to any bother."

Lestrade popped the caps off the beers, handed one to John and then sat in the single chair that showed the most wear. "Cheers."

John perched nervously on the edge of the sofa. "Sláinte."

They both took a long pull and then sat in awkward silence, avoiding eye contact until John fell back on his military training and retreated to safe ground. "Didn't know you were an Arsenal fan, Lestrade." He nodded his head towards Lestrade's red and white striped scarf hanging over the back of a chair. "Who were they playing yesterday?"

"They were away at Birmingham City. I try to get to most home games and London derbies but I don't travel when they're out of town. You follow it yourself?"

"No. Never really got into football that much," John said. "I'll watch it if it's on but I grew up playing rugby union. My family's mostly from the Scottish borders - it's practically a religion there."

"Yeah, I've heard that... You didn't really come here to chat about sport though, did you?"

"I came to chat about anything you want. I think we started off on the wrong foot and if we're both going to be stopping the general public throttling Sherlock--"

"Never mind the public - it's my team I'm most worried about. In fact, you may need to stop me throttling him on occasion."

"Yeah, well - you should try living with him."

"God, no! I'm amazed you've lasted this long, what with the violin and the experiments and everything."

"Army life kind of makes you immune to the idea of personal space and privacy - and if you can live in close quarters in a hot climate with a bunch of blokes, your nose can pretty much take anything!"

"Yours maybe can."

"So... your sense of smell is the same as... when you're...?" John nervously spun his bottle in his hands before gulping down another mouthful.

"No, it's just better than yours. Same for my hearing. I can see better in the dark too - and I'm a bit stronger than you'd think to look at me. Works the other way round as well - wolves are usually colour blind. I'm not."

"You're sure you don't mind talking about it?"

Lestrade dragged his hand through his hair. "Nah. Knew you'd have a shit load of questions. S'only natural - and there's no way you could be as bad as Sherlock. He quizzed me for nearly two days solid."

"God, I can imagine... How did he find out?"

"Not much different from you. He got himself lost and hurt and I had to change to find him."

"Sherlock got lost?"

"He... wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time."

"He was high, you mean. He did tell me about the drugs."

Lestrade nodded. "I made sure he was OK then sneaked off, put my clothes back on and came back. He sat and stared at me for a long time and then totally freaked out. I pretty much had to sit on him before he eventually calmed down."

Lestrade sighed heavily and looked at the floor. He took another long swig of beer before speaking again.

"I... tried to persuade him he'd been hallucinating. Not very proud of that. I think it was the kind of shock he needed though. Made him much more keen to stay in my good books, that's for certain."

"Does anybody else know?" John asked.

"Nope. You, me and him. That's it. Sherlock says he's never told anyone else and I believe him. Then again he's never really had anyone else to tell, so I suppose you were his first real test."

"What about his brother, Mycroft?"

"The one with the Civil Service job? Don't think Sherlock talks to him at all if he can help it."

John was puzzled. "Have you not met him?"

"I spoke to him on the phone once, not long after Sherlock showed up. He said he was glad Sherlock had found a distraction and thanked me for looking after him. Sounded a bit of a pompous twit to be honest. I could see why Sherlock wouldn't get on with him."

"Now there's an understatement. Mind you, I never got on with Harry so who am I to judge?"

"You've got a brother too?"

"No, sorry - sister. Harriet."

"Ah, right.... same again?"

John looked down. His beer had somehow evaporated and instead of his ready to flee posture of earlier, he was relaxed fully back into the sofa. "Yeah, thanks. Why not?"

Lestrade fetched them another two bottles. He kicked his shoes off and put his feet up on the coffee table when he sat back down.

"So nobody else knows..." John mused. "What about your parents?"

"My parents were killed in a car crash when I was about two. I haven't any memory of them. No idea if they were like me or not and there weren't any other relatives - at least none they could find. Nobody ever came forward."

"Christ, Greg, I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Lestrade spun the gold band around his ring finger. "This ring is all I have of them. There's initials and a date on the inside but I've never been able to find any records for them - or me, for that matter. They only knew my name because my dad had a photo of me in his wallet. It was of me and a birthday cake and the back had my name and a date on it. That's it."

"So who raised you?"

"A long line of foster parents and care homes. I was a total tearaway, never settled anywhere."

"And when did you...?" John waved his beer bottle in Lestrade's direction.

"Just before my twelfth birthday." Lestrade laughed mirthlessly. "I woke up in the middle of the night and my whole body just felt... wrong. I'd changed in my sleep and I was all tangled up in my clothes."

"Jesus. That must have been terrifying - the first time it happened. Do you know what triggered it?"

"Not sure. Just my age I think, hitting puberty and all that. We'd done a project studying wolves at school the year before, when we read Call of the Wild, and I loved them. Read everything I could about them. I'd even dreamt about being one so this time I thought I was dreaming again - until I fell out of bed - then I was scared shitless, literally. Once I'd calmed down a bit though it wasn't too hard to change back. I just had to concentrate on being me again. I learned to control it pretty quickly."

"You can choose? You don't have to change?"

"Full moon you mean - that sort of thing? No, nothing like that. Although if I go for a long time without changing at all I get a bit... itchy, so I'll flip over for the evening every once in a while."

He was so matter of fact about it but John's head was spinning. To have to go through all that on your own and at such a young age... John couldn't even start to imagine how hard that must have been.

"So are there others like you?"

"I have no idea. Could be hundreds, could be none. I've never met anyone else - but I might not necessarily know even if I did. I don't go wandering around as my other self and I assume if there are any others they don't either, so who knows? I like to think Id be able to tell somehow but it's not happened yet."

John giggled.

"What?" Lestrade asked. He cocked his head to one side exactly as his other self had done, which just made John giggle harder.

"I was just remembering that drugs bust. When Sherlock said he wasn't your sniffer dog?"

Lestrade grinned. "Very funny. Don't push it, John. I haven't had my dinner yet."

"Yeah, and there's more meat on me than Sherlock." John couldn't resist - and then immediately wished he had. Oh God, what are you doing? Shut up, shut up, shut up...

Lestrade looked surprised then gave a deep, throaty chuckle. "I've eaten sandwiches with more meat than Sherlock."

John laughed too, relieved Lestrade hadn't taken any offence at his flirting. "Want to order something in?"

"Yeah, I've got some menus here, hang on a minute." Lestrade hauled himself up out of his seat and went to a small table in the hallway. He pulled open a drawer in the front and lifted out a selection of flyers for local restaurants. "I think I’ve got at least one of everything here. Indian... Chinese... Pizza?"

"Mmm, no, not pizza, "John said. He stood up and joined Lestrade by the hall table. "Let me see what else you have."

"What are you in the mood for?" Lestrade turned and locked eyes with John.


"Sorry, I... Let me see those." John grabbed the handful of papers from Lestrade and stared at them intently, not reading a word. He was peripherally aware that Lestrade was still looking at him rather than the menus.

Suddenly Lestrade reached out, wrapped his hand round the back of John's neck, pulled him close and half-kissed, half-licked his head.

John ducked away, stunned as he felt his scalp tingling from the contact. "What--?"

Lestrade dropped his hand and stepped back. "I know. I'm sorry. I should've asked but I couldn't really think of a good way to do it."

"No, it's... alright." John put his hand to his head - the cut felt much better and he realised what Lestrade had done. "Thanks."

"I'm not starting anything, John, I just..."


Lestrade sighed. "I don't like seeing you hurt, OK? I've been a bit of a berk about all this and I'm sorry. You and Sherlock are... Well, I don't want you to think I don't care about you. I just can't... Y'know."

Lestrade's red face was almost a perfect match for his football team's colour.

"God. I... I'm shutting up now, OK?"

"It's fine. I don't mind, " John tried to reassure him. He stepped closer and put his hand on Lestrade's chest. "Really. I don't mind."

Lestrade took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I know, John. I can... I can smell it whenever you're near me. Your scent changes... You're sending out hormones like a bloody homing beacon and it's driving me nuts."

"Because you're not interested."

"Because I am interested!" Lestrade grabbed John's shirt in both fists, propelled him backwards and pushed him up against the wall so violently John's feet left the ground. "God - I want to tear your clothes off right now and fuck you so hard..." He buried his nose inside the collar of John's shirt. "You smell so good. Smell like you want me. Want me to have you."

"Fuck yes, Greg, please." John had never been so aroused before at the thought of being taken. He usually topped when he was with another man but he wanted Greg to put him on his knees and fuck him until he couldn't walk; wanted him to bite the back of John's neck and hold him there; dig his nails into John's hips as he pounded into him.

Shit. He wanted to be Greg's bitch. How messed up was that?

As suddenly as he had pounced Lestrade stopped, stepped back and released him. "But I can't - and you know why I can't."

"If you're worried you'll hurt me--" John panted.

"It's not just that. I'm worried I'll make you the same as me. I couldn't do that to you - to anyone, but especially not someone I... really like. John - I don't... I've never... I don't know what I'll do. I've never let anyone get this close before. What if I hurt you? What if I make you the same as me? What if... Shit, what if it's sexually transmitted? I don't know and I... I can't risk it - can't risk you."

Lestrade had backed all the way to the opposite wall and was refusing to meet John's eyes.

"Greg, that's... I'm really touched, but surely you've already found ways to... I mean - what have you done before?"

"How do you mean?"

"With other people."

"Like I said - I've never... y'know..." Lestrade's gaze was now threatening to burn a hole in his hall carpet.

John was astonished. "You're a virgin?"

"Christ!" Lestrade's head snapped up again. "Tell the whole bloody country, why don't you?!"

"Sorry Greg, it's just... I mean, you're gorgeous! How can you possibly have made it this long and not got your end away yet?"

"With a lot of hand lotion and tissues," Lestrade said bitterly. "But I'm definitely proof that you can't go blind."

"You shouldn't have to risk it - I'd be happy to give you a hand." John grinned.

Lestrade shook his head. "No. Forget it. We can't. I'm sorry."

"We can be as careful as you like." John reached out and pressed his hand against Lestrade's groin. There was an unmistakable twitch of interest. "I don't even have to touch you directly. See? Or I can wear gloves..." He stroked and kneaded Lestrade's rapidly swelling erection. "There's lots of things we can do..."

"John, please..." Lestrade gnawed at his lip but didn't make any move to push John away.

"Please what? Stop? Don't stop?"

Lestrade tipped his head back and John took the opportunity to start planting small kisses and bites against his neck.

"Unnnnhhh, fuck, John, John, I..." Lestrade growled and John felt it rumble through his throat.

"I want you, Greg. I've wanted you since that first time we met properly in your office. I know what you are and it just makes me want you even more."

"John, I can't," Lestrade whined. "I..."

"Are you going to make me beg? I will...I don't care. I fucking want you, Greg."


"You want me too, don't you?"

"Yes, fuck yes." Lestrade's length was rock hard under John's hand and a damp spot had started to form on his jeans.

John's erection was also straining at his trousers. His heart was pounding, he felt hot all over and he really really needed to either fuck or be fucked by somebody within the next 30 seconds or he was going to go insane or explode or both.

"So take me. That's all you have to do." He gripped Lestrade's cock and gave it a firm squeeze, eliciting another groan. "What do you say, Greg?"

Lestrade opened his eyes...

Tags: char: lestrade, char: watson, fandom: sherlock, fic, fic: lone wolf, pair: john/lestrade, rating: r
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