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fic: Suddenly, A Familiar Song

Title: Suddenly, A Familiar Song
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing/Characters: Lestrade, Sherlock, mentions of John and Mary
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for S3 Episode 2, The Sign of Three, from which this departs significantly.
Wordcount: 1092
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: Lestrade’s seen a lot of romcoms, for his sins. Never thought he’d find himself in the middle of one, though.
A/N: This one is for grassle and 2ndskin, who requested something like it; thank you for the inspiration!

Lestrade’s seen a lot of romcoms, for his sins. Never thought he’d find himself in the middle of one, though.

His mum loved a good romcom, and towards the end, when talking was impossible, he’d sit through her favourites with her. He knows this scene: it’s the bit in Two Weeks Notice where Sandra Bullock leaves her best friend’s wedding for Hugh Grant’s so-called emergency, which turns out to be not knowing which tie to wear.

Except that it’s him now, leaving a crime scene where they’ve finally caught the bloody Waters gang in the act, and haring across London to Baker Street with an armed response team. Only to find that Sherlock’s emergency is that he’s stuck on his best man’s speech for Watson’s wedding…

Fuck. Lestrade wakes up sweating, in a tangle of twisted sheets and blankets. As nightmares go, that one was a belter. What you get for eating cheese last thing before bed. Really ought to know better, but he’d been a bit sloshed when he got in last night from celebrating the Waters arrest with his team, and he’d just felt like a snack.

It’s not even as if he’d had that much to drink. Honestly, he’s getting to be almost as much of a lightweight as Sherlock and John. The less said about the mess those two had got themselves into on John’s stag night the better.

At least by now Sherlock must have his blasted speech in the bag, so they can all stop worrying and just enjoy the day.

Famous last words.

As a public speaker, Sherlock is a fucking liability. Rambling, rude, and excruciatingly embarrassing. Lestrade spends a lot of the speech wanting to hide under the table, and from the looks of frozen horror and disbelief on the faces around him, he’s not the only one. Bits of it are unexpectedly touching, in a way he wouldn’t have expected from Sherlock, but then the whole thing goes off the rails again. Sherlock starts ranting about someone called Mayfly Man, announces that there’s a murderer at the wedding, and jumps over the table in pursuit of the murder victim, with the bride and groom chasing after him…

Once the chaos has died down, Lestrade makes the arrest and calls for backup, trying not to think about imaginary helicopters outside the windows of 221b. Sherlock seems to have brought his own handcuffs, which is lucky, since Lestrade didn’t assume he’d need his at a bloody wedding.

Later, he watches the police car drive off carrying Jonathan Small, the Mayfly Man and substitute photographer, and then turns back to the reception. The dancing’s still going on, so he hasn’t missed the whole of the party.

He’d know that familiar shape anywhere, even before the swirl of the coat as Sherlock pulls it around him.

“Sherlock, what are you doing out here?”

“Leaving,” Sherlock says. He must be in a bad way; doesn’t even bother to sneer at Lestrade for failing to deduce the obvious.

“You can’t leave,” Lestrade says. “You’re the best man.”

“Mary’s pregnant,” Sherlock says.

Right. That changes things, more than it looked as if the wedding would by itself. But still…

“You said you wouldn’t let him down,” Lestrade reminds him.

He can feel Sherlock wincing – bit of a low blow, that, but it’s true. Can’t have the best man disappearing when the reception’s still in full swing.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go back inside.”

Back inside and out of reach of temptation. It would be so easy to give in now, and he’s been trying so hard not to.

“Cigarette,” Sherlock demands, sticking his hand out. “I know you’ve got them on you.”


“Only got one left,” Lestrade says.

Sherlock makes a small impatient movement and sighs heavily.

“Oh, all right then,” Lestrade grumbles. “Here you are.”

Sherlock takes the cigarette and drops the empty packet in a flowerbed.

“Oi!” Lestrade says.

“Someone will clear up tomorrow, it’s all paid for,” Sherlock says dismissively.

“Maybe so, but that’s no excuse –”

“Are you going to light this or not?” Sherlock snaps.

Lestrade fumbles with his lighter, which seems to be sulking but eventually produces a grudging flame. Sherlock’s face looks even more unearthly than usual in the wavering light, as he breathes in until the tip of the cigarette crackles and glows into life. He takes another long drag, and then passes the cigarette to Lestrade.

Well, that was unexpected. Lestrade assumed Sherlock was going to smoke the whole thing, with his usual disregard for others. He’s a bit taken aback, but he’s not going to say no if the offer’s there. Pity he didn’t have two cigarettes, he thinks wryly: they could have done the end of Now, Voyager. As it is…

As it is, they smoke Lestrade’s last cigarette between them, passing it to and fro and listening to the music coming from the reception. Either it’s got louder or someone’s opened a window.

“Sentimental drivel,” Sherlock says, grinding the cigarette butt underfoot as if he’s trying to push it into the earth.

Lestrade wouldn’t have thought I Say A Little Prayer For You was John or Mary’s taste either, but maybe someone else has nobbled the DJ. Appropriate, though: the last time he heard this was the end of that film with Rupert Everett and Julia Roberts his mum had made him sit through twice. My Best Friend’s Wedding.

“The moves of a jungle cat,” he says, half to himself, and grins.

“What?” Sherlock says. “Don’t be absurd, it can’t possibly be called that.”

Lestrade opens his mouth to explain, but thinks better of it. Popular culture and Sherlock aren’t a great mix at the best of times.

“Ready to go back in?”

“You go back in if you want to,” Sherlock says, a bit sulkily. “Join the happy couples.”

“Or we could just dance out here,” Lestrade says. Must be the champagne talking.

“Really,” Sherlock says, as if he thinks Lestrade’s taking the piss.

“No law against it,” Lestrade says.

An unexpected rumble of a laugh from Sherlock.

“Go on then, George,” he says. “Do your worst.”

“It’s Greg,” Lestrade says. “As you well know, you cheeky sod. C’mere.”

He pulls Sherlock into his arms, coat and all.

Rupert Everett was right, Lestrade thinks, as they sway to the music, awkwardly at first and then more smoothly. There may not be marriage, there may not be sex (though he wouldn’t entirely rule it out, the way Sherlock’s pressing against him); but by God, there’ll be dancing.


Title and some lines quoted from Rupert Everett's speech as George, at the end of My Best Friend's Wedding - speech starts around 2.00 here.

I'm not the only one whose mind went there - for a very cheering and very different fix-it, check out frozen_delight's fic My Best Friend's Wedding.

Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/142010.html with comment count unavailable comments.


( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Jan. 6th, 2014 06:35 pm (UTC)
Loved the bits of My Best Friend's Wedding that you used, and Lestrade trying to keep Sherlock from breaking his promise to John. The two of them sharing a cigarette and dancing? So, so awesome. ::grins::
Jan. 6th, 2014 06:42 pm (UTC)
thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it. *beams*

SOMEONE needed to dance with Sherlock, and it seemed to me that Lestrade was just the man for the job... *grins*
Jan. 6th, 2014 09:38 pm (UTC)
Yes, this is how it should have ended! :D

Love the Sherlock/Lestrade interaction, the pop culture references, the dialogue, the coat twirl, all of it!
Jan. 6th, 2014 10:02 pm (UTC)
thank you! *beams* I'm very glad you liked it and that you agree.
Jan. 7th, 2014 08:48 am (UTC)
Oh, this is such perfection! *sighs happily*
Jan. 7th, 2014 10:51 pm (UTC)
thank you very much! *glows*
May. 11th, 2014 05:10 pm (UTC)
I detest rom coms but this has gone straight onto my Favourite Sherstrade fics, because it's so bloody cute, clever, in-character, and there's dancing. *happy sigh*

And I'll pay you for a sequel.
May. 12th, 2014 10:37 pm (UTC)
thank you - that's a very nice comment!
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )


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