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fic: A Pair of Gloves

Title: A Pair of Gloves
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/Lestrade
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Spoilers for The Empty Hearse
Wordcount: 661
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: “What are these for?” Lestrade says, staring at the black leather gloves.
A/N: For ginbitch, kate_lear and warriorbot; happy third anniversary to the Fangirl Ninja Army! Thank you to [personal profile] kalypso for beta wisdom and [personal profile] theimpressionist for cheering me on.

“What are these for?” Lestrade says, staring at the black leather gloves.

They look like that pair of Sherlock’s he’s always coveted, but they’re obviously new – the (eye-watering) price tag’s still attached. Must be something to do with a case, but what?

“They’re for you,” Sherlock says. He doesn’t add you idiot, but the words hang in the air.

No use trying to work out why Sherlock does anything, Lestrade knows that by now. Just end up with a headache. But London’s in the middle of the biggest heatwave for twenty-five years, so why anyone would think winter gloves were a good idea is beyond him. In this weather, they’re about as much use as a pair of fur underpants.

“This isn’t some kind of weird sex thing, is it?” he says, because you can never be sure what Sherlock’s going to come up with in that department.

“Third anniversary’s leather,” Sherlock says, as if this all makes perfect sense. “I looked it up.”

“Third – what?”

“Anniversary,” Sherlock says, a bit impatiently. “Double murder in Kensington. First case I solved for you.”

He’d remember that, of course he would. Never remembers anyone’s birthday, and the things he says about sentimentality could strip paint off a wall, but Sherlock’s love affair with crime is the real thing. Talk about being married to your work…

“Thanks,” Lestrade says, because he’s not sure what else to say.

“What do you mean, weird sex thing?” Sherlock demands.

Lestrade groans. Should have known he’d pick up on that. The images pushing into his mind make him sweat, black leather moving against pale skin as Sherlock shivers and moans and arches up into the caress…

“Bad idea,” Lestrade says hoarsely. “Probably ruin the gloves. They’re nice. Gloves.”

Oh, very smooth, Lestrade, very coherent. It is entirely possible that something’s actually broken in his brain.

Sherlock’s got that experimental look in his eye that bodes no good at all. “Let’s go to your flat,” he says, beaming.

They don’t ruin the gloves, because Lestrade is not wearing all his clothes to bed in a fucking heatwave, thank you very much. It’s still a pretty memorable anniversary celebration, not least because Lestrade’s phone goes off at the most inconvenient possible moment with news of another headless corpse, and Sherlock gets dressed so fast that Lestrade threatens to ring the Guinness Book of Records.

“It’s a website these days,” Sherlock says, buttoning his shirt at high speed. “Do try to keep up, Lestrade.”

When he finally gets home at the end of a very long day, Lestrade puts his new gloves away in a drawer, the way he does with gifts he likes too much to use. It’s a habit he’s never quite broken himself of, though he knows it’s stupid. He doesn’t take them out again till a cold day in November, five years later, the kind of day that makes you think wistful thoughts about roaring fires and mulled wine.

Not much chance of either: instead, there’s terrible coffee from the coffee-stall outside the court, and Anderson spouting his latest crackpot theories about how Sherlock survived the fall. Corpse-swapping, bungee-jumping and Derren Brown… Bollocks.

The gloves are beautifully soft and he’s grateful for the warmth, but that’s not why he’s wearing them; he’s known colder days than this. He put them on this morning in honour of Sherlock, because surely today’s verdict is a foregone conclusion. The shade of Richard Brook is about to be dispersed for ever, the memory of Sherlock Holmes vindicated from Moriarty’s lies and the tabloids’ sneers.

It’s too late, of course: two years too late, whatever Anderson believes. The verdict’s not some kind of magic reset button, to undo all that’s happened. He watches from a distance as the reporters deliver their pieces to camera, their voices overlapping and blurring as they run through the story of Sherlock’s fall.

“Well, then,” he says, turning to Anderson and raising his coffee cup. “Absent friends.”

Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/142725.html with comment count unavailable comments.


( 19 comments — Leave a comment )
Jan. 15th, 2014 02:54 am (UTC)
Oh, that's niiiiiiiice.
Jan. 16th, 2014 10:19 am (UTC)
thank you! I'm very glad you liked it.
Jan. 15th, 2014 03:28 pm (UTC)
Lestrade. So dour in his sentimentality. I love that he wore the gloves Sherlock gave him on that particular day, as a reminder of what was lost. Aww!
Jan. 16th, 2014 10:21 am (UTC)
thank you - glad you enjoyed it! I think of him as someone who is generally quite stoical, especially about his own feelings.
Jan. 16th, 2014 07:51 am (UTC)
Seriously though, this is hot and beautiful and utterly heartbreaking.
Jan. 16th, 2014 10:23 am (UTC)
thank you so much - I think I can only write this sort of thing because I know Sherlock's just about to reappear!
Jan. 18th, 2014 12:48 pm (UTC)
In any chance I can convince you to write a sequel where he DOES reappear and there is hot glove sex?
I'll beta.....
Jan. 18th, 2014 11:03 pm (UTC)
*grins* I'm not sure if I can write hot glove sex, but if the muse strikes I will definitely take you up on the offer of betaing!
Jan. 19th, 2014 10:53 pm (UTC)
haha! I was thinking that hot glove sex sounded like a mighty fine idea ;)
Jan. 19th, 2014 11:16 pm (UTC)
I am reminded that I wrote a sex scene involving these two and gloves in High Stakes, the last in the Busted Flush series - though the gloves there were latex and not leather...
Jan. 20th, 2014 12:08 am (UTC)
Latex/Leather/lycra all gloves are good for me to read about! It's so rare to find someone's written a glove fic.

It says the site is down for maintainance btw.
Jan. 19th, 2014 05:25 pm (UTC)
"The gloves are beautifully soft and he’s grateful for the warmth, but that’s not why he’s wearing them; he’s known colder days than this. He put them on this morning in honour of Sherlock..."

Oh that was lovely - what a wonderful idea; I shall think of this each time I watch that scene now . . .
Jan. 19th, 2014 06:54 pm (UTC)
thank you very much - I'm glad you liked it! *beams*
Jan. 19th, 2014 10:01 pm (UTC)
A lovely fic with its mix of sweetness,sharpness and sadness. You always write believable interactions between Sherlock and Lestrade: the murder anniversary and the desire for experimentation sound entirely Sherlock. I love the Guinness world records exchange, too. And it's also touching that the event Lestrade wears the gloves for isn't some triumph of his own, but Sherlock's vindication. Thanks very much for this.
Jan. 19th, 2014 11:21 pm (UTC)
thank you! I'm very glad you enjoyed the fic, and those things especially. I felt that Sherlock wouldn't have deleted that particular date...

Edited at 2014-01-19 11:21 pm (UTC)
Jan. 20th, 2014 12:10 am (UTC)
I really enjoyed this story.

"The gloves are beautifully soft and he’s grateful for the warmth, but that’s not why he’s wearing them; he’s known colder days than this. He put them on this morning in honour of Sherlock..."

That's written beautifully and it's a lovely image.
Jan. 20th, 2014 12:35 am (UTC)
thank you - I'm very glad you liked the story, and that bit in particular!
May. 11th, 2014 03:16 pm (UTC)

*bursts into tears*

I love this.
May. 12th, 2014 10:41 pm (UTC)
thank you - I was happy with this fic, and I'm glad you liked it.
( 19 comments — Leave a comment )


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