Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Disclaimer: These characters are still not mine. No matter how hard I stare at them. Spoilers for A Study in Pink.
Thanks to blooms84 for beta reading and encouragement.
Wordcount: 1022 for this part
Warnings: sexual content, fallout from threesome
Summary: John is confused again and this time it's not about Sherlock.
A/N: This is all blooms84's fault for writing The Unbearable Fineness of Lestrade and making me sad about Lestrade all over again.
The events recollected here take place in ( Triple Jump )
Lestrade's still puzzling over that frankly weird conversation with Sherlock when he realizes JW, John, is hovering in the doorway.
“Hello,” Lestrade says, trying not to sound as surprised as he feels, because that might be rude. “You've just missed Sherlock – should I call down to the front desk and see if he's still in the building?”
John shuffles. He looks quite uncomfortable.
“Er,” he says, “um. No. I – wanted to see you, actually.”
Scenes We Seldom See. Nobody would get the joke if Lestrade sent it to Private Eye, so he won't bother. But this is distinctly odd.
“Sure,” Lestrade says, “no problem. Come in, have a seat.”
John comes in, shuts the door behind him. Doesn't sit down though. Wanders about looking confused. Sort of thing that would qualify as pacing if it was a bit more energetic.
“Are you OK?” Lestrade asks.
“Fine,” John says, not sounding fine at all. But he does say that all the time, so it's not much of a guide.
“Would you like coffee or something?” Lestrade says.
“Oh – no, thanks, I'm fine,” John says. Blushing.
Why would someone blush about not wanting coffee?
The answer to that seems to be lost in transit somewhere. There's an embarrassing silence.
Maybe it's not surprising, Lestrade thinks. The last time he was in a room with John neither of them had any clothes on and they'd both just had sex with Sherlock. And each other. Which, given how little they know each other, really, and the history between them (not good), means this next meeting was always going to be pretty bloody awkward. Apart from anything else, he still has quite vivid memories of John sucking him off, and his hand seems to remember the feel of John's arse, rather nice it was too, as Lestrade pulled him in close for a deeper kiss. Wouldn't mind betting John's remembering some of that too. Probably explains the blush.
“Bit awkward about the other night,” Lestrade says. Might as well get it out into the open, clear the air a bit.
John doesn't say anything. Blushing even more now.
“But I don't think Sherlock's going to make a habit of it,” Lestrade says, “so you don't need to worry.”
Still nothing. John goes on blushing and looking confused.
“What was it you wanted to see me about?” Lestrade asks.
John seems to be struggling to speak. Fails. Looks out through the glass door at Donovan in the outer office, who is staring interestedly. Picks up a paperweight and fiddles with it. Drops it on the floor.
They both bend down to retrieve it, and bang their heads together. Slapstick, Lestrade groans to himself. Just what this little scene needed. Comedy gold. But they're not laughing.
“Sorry,” Lestrade says, putting the paperweight back on the desk. “Are you all right?”
He puts his hand on John's head, feels for a bump. John inhales sharply.
“Should get that looked at,” Lestrade says. “Don't want you having concussion. The NHS would have my arse for breakfast.”
Possibly not the best thing to say, in the circumstances.
“I'm fine,” John protests. “I can get someone at the practice to take a look at it, but honestly it's just a bump. Please don't fuss, Lestrade.”
“OK,” Lestrade says. “You're the doctor. Just be careful, yes?”
“Yes,” John says. He's not blushing now. If anything he's looking rather pale. Probably has got concussion, silly bugger. Oh well. There's no helping some people.
Still hasn't said what he came for.
Lestrade wonders if it is about the threesome. Sherlock was very insistent just now that John really hadn't liked it and although of course it had been lots of fun that meant they couldn't do it again. Which had surprised Lestrade, because usually Sherlock's not very interested in what anybody else wants, especially if it clashes with what Sherlock wants himself. Quite touching, in a way. But then it's clear to Lestrade that Sherlock has feelings for John Watson that he hasn't had for anyone before. First time Lestrade's known Sherlock to have feelings, full stop.
“It'll be all right, you know,” Lestrade says. “Bound to be a bit awkward for a while after something like that, but things will shake down and it'll soon be back to normal. He's – really fond of you.”
John looks completely miserable. So miserable Lestrade almost gives him a hug, which really wouldn't be a helpful thing to do in the circumstances. Gives him a manly thump across the shoulder blades instead. Possibly too hard, because John yelps and jumps.
“Sorry,” Lestrade says again. “Don't know my own strength.”
“No, it's – I'm fine,” John says. “Really. It's all fine.”
“Look,” Lestrade says, making an effort, “you and me, we didn't really get on at first. Not surprising, what with one thing and another. But it would be nice if that could change. I'm not saying we'll ever be best mates or anything, but maybe we can, erm, make a fresh start or something?”
John swallows hard. Making an effort of his own, from the look of it. “Sure,” he says. “Yes, that would – that would be fine. Would be – nice.”
Good man, Lestrade thinks. Jesus, that looked like hard work.
“OK, then,” Lestrade says. “It's a deal. Forget everything that's happened so far, clean slate, nice to meet you, let's start again. We can go for a pint some time when you want to let off steam about Sherlock. Bound to happen sooner or later.”
John smiles, rather tensely. “OK,” he says.
Then, astonishingly, he hugs Lestrade tightly for a moment, and stumbles out of the office muttering something about afternoon surgery and get a cab.
Still never said what he came for.
This definitely is one of the weirder days at the Yard, Lestrade thinks, watching John sprint towards the lift.
Next: ( John is running, running for all he's worth... )
Previous: ( Sherlock glares at the nicotine patches on his arm. Not working. )