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fic: Sauce

Title: Sauce
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing/Characters: Lestrade, Donovan, Dimmock, others
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 560
Disclaimer: They're still not mine.
Summary: ...That sort of October day that always feels like the start of something, even though the leaves are turning colour or already fallen. Crisp blue sky and a different kind of light somehow.
A/N: written for capt_spork who requested "Lestrade/Sherlock or just Lestrade" at my writing meme. The October day in question is the one that Lestrade remembers in Beginning To See The Light.


Sauce

Half-way through his shower, Lestrade realizes he's singing that HP sauce ad from years back, the one they did to “In The Summertime”. It's been ages since he had brown sauce for breakfast, but this morning he'd really fancied a full English for once. Probably not a good idea to go for a run on top of that, though. Do it the other way round next time. If there is a next time.

He's still whistling it when he gets to the Yard.

“It's October,” Dimmock says reprovingly. Never afraid to state the obvious.

“I know,” Lestrade says, grinning.

So it is. That sort of October day that always feels like the start of something, even though the leaves are turning colour or already fallen. Crisp blue sky and a different kind of light somehow.

“You're in a good mood today,” Donovan says.

Sounding surprised. Relieved, too. OK, he's been on a short fuse recently, bit down in the mouth, but he hadn't realized it'd been that bad.

“Nice day,” he says.

Which doesn't begin to describe it. Knew something was different as soon as he woke up, took him a while to realize what. It was gone: that feeling he'd had for the last few months. All that confusion and unhappiness about Sherlock, weighing him down like a fucking albatross round his neck. Wanting Sherlock, wondering if Sherlock had ever wanted him or ever would, trying not to think about that weird night they'd had together and what it all meant. If it meant anything at all.

But today he'd woken up thinking Bloody hell, I'm starving. Looking out at the sunshine, feeling his heart lift.

Finally ditched the albatross. He grins.

“Must be shagging someone,” Tyler mutters.

“'Bout time,” Donovan says. “Just so long as it's not him.”

She's stopped calling Sherlock Freak, but Lestrade knows who she means.

“Shh,” Smith says. “He's not deaf, you know.”

An hour or so later there's a bunch of them round Donovan's desk, laughing and squabbling. Sound of pound coins dropping into a biscuit tin. Huh.

They're so preoccupied they don't notice him, and he sees the heading on the sheet before Donovan can shove it out of sight.

DI's New Boyfriend Sweepstake: £1 a ticket

Everybody knows this sort of thing goes on. Sauce, Annie the cook at the big house would have called it. That's enough of your sauce, you cheeky bugger.

Donovan's face says she's expecting him to call it something worse than that. Insubordination, most likely. Christ knows, these days it probably counts as sexual harassment into the bargain.

Everyone's gone very quiet.

Lestrade digs in his pocket and pulls out a pound coin.

“Put me down for a ticket,” he says. “Better not tell me who I get in the draw, though. Might prejudice the result. Don't want a stewards' enquiry.”

Donovan manages a shaky smile. He drops his coin into the tin with the rest and she puts the lid on it.

“OK,” he says. “Let's get ready for that press conference.”

His phone buzzes. Text from Sherlock, saying “Wrong!”

“He's starting early,” Donovan says.

“Must be at a loose end,” Lestrade says.

He deletes the text, whistling again. Because whatever Sherlock might think to the contrary, Lestrade can feel it in his bones: this is one of those rare days when everything goes right.

Comments

rainbowwizard1
Mar. 16th, 2011 02:15 am (UTC)
Lestrade finally getting over Sherlock always makes me gooey and mushy and happy. =D
fengirl88
Mar. 16th, 2011 09:51 am (UTC)
thank you! me too...

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