Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
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Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
First author anon is doing a fantastic job and I don't think this can live up to their fic, but they very kindly encouraged me to have a go at this prompt myself.
OP I hope you like this one too.
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There are times when Lestrade can see Sherlock's point about the competency of the police force, after all these people are paid to be detectives, to pay attention to details, and yet not one of them knows the first thing about each other. They know little things, they know about spouses or long term partners; they know who has kids and who supports which football team. But the big things; they're clueless when it comes to those. It works in his favour though, he doesn't have to work hard to keep his new relationship a secret, doesn't have to work at all in fact. As long as he doesn't come in and announce to the whole room that he's gay and has met someone new he's safe.
Of course Sherlock is a different matter, Lestrade has no doubt that in some way Sherlock is aware, or would be if he decided to turn his attention to him. But as long as it's not relevant to the case he doubts Sherlock will bother with him too much, he reserves his more embarrassing revelations for taking down those who doubt him or would try to harm him. Lestrade is neither of these. The other danger is Sherlock's boredom, but Lestrade has always got the perfect antidote to that; a case. Show Sherlock a crime scene (with or without a dead body) and boredom is a thing of the past, at least temporarily. Even before he sees the crime scene Sherlock seems to manage to keep himself entertained by sniping at Anderson or Donovan, or both, and so Lestrade is safe from his most piercing and searching inspection.
For several months everything is good. Lestrade is happy, his colleagues continue to be blissfully unaware, Sherlock either doesn't notice or doesn't bother to announce what he has noticed and for once everything seems to be working out well. Paul struggles at first to come to terms with the number of hours he works when they find themselves with a high profile case, but after a while he seems to get used to it. Lestrade's insistence on secrecy, at least from his colleagues is always a sore point, but it seems so minor that he isn't worried. One day, he promises Paul, one day he'll be ready to come out, but not yet.
The problems don't come out of nowhere, there are arguments, stupid fights about everything from the number of hours he works to who is texting him at this time of night - invariably it's Sherlock, who never seems to sleep. Every now and then the arguments end with Paul storming out, slamming the door hard enough to make the wall shake as he leaves. He always comes back though, they both apologise and they move on. Until the next time.
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This is so good I'm...I...I can't really describe how happy I am I just really REALLy REALLY!!! Want you to update soon.
Please, I beg you...whatever you want it's all yours, seriously.
In summary, I'm waiting eagerly with more and am on standby if you ever need an organ transplant :)
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More coming up in just a moment!
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There is some description of domestic abuse and violence in this part. It's mild description, and I'm guessing the prompt makes that obvious, but I like to give some trigger warnings just in case.
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The time Paul throws a glass across the room comes as a shock. He knows Paul has a temper, the slamming door will attest to that, but he never expected it to go further than that. Paul is sorry afterwards though, so sorry, he clears the shards of glass up and apologises over and over. Lestrade apologises too, even though he can't really remember anything he'd done that could have provoked that kind of reaction.
It's not like it happens every night, or even every week. Just every now and then Paul loses his temper and something will get broken. Nothing that matters, nothing that can't be replaced. It's not a problem though; Lestrade just learns to prevent it whenever possible. Simple things, like sleeping at his desk instead of going home if a case keeps him out until the early hours of the morning, switching his phone to vibrate so that it's less likely to wake Paul at odd hours when Sherlock has his latest breakthrough or boredom induced text spree. He's got it under control. Right up until the night when Paul's fist slams into the wall only inches from his head. He mentally makes a new entry on his list of things that upset Paul - talking about male or female work colleagues - and convinces himself that this isn't bad, Paul wouldn't hurt him after all.
Lestrade has seen domestic violence plenty of times before, but this isn't it. Not until the time when Paul gets angry enough to shove him. Even then it's not really because Paul doesn't directly hurt him. Paul doesn't mean for him to stumble and hit his head on the shelf. Afterwards Paul apologises, checks carefully for any sign of blood or injury, but there is nothing; just a slight lump and a nasty headache. Paul keeps apologising though and telling him it'll never happen again, he's so genuine and so attentive that Lestrade can't help but forgive him.
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Begs.
You're doing a fantastic job I can't wait to read more :)
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Third part is up, fourth should hopefully be up tomorrow.
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"Well, whoever gave you those cracked ribs is not the killer," Sherlock announces. "But then they never resist arrest if they're innocent, you'd better find out what they are guilty of."
It feels as though the whole room as stopped, in reality it hasn't. John Watson, of course, has turned his attention to Lestrade, and Donovan's eyebrows have shot up and there's a look somewhere between concern and confusion on her face, but everyone else is getting on with their jobs.
"Except it wasn't a suspect, or Donovan here would know," Sherlock realises. Then, without warning, he spins around to look at the body again. "Oh, of course!" he exclaims. "Forget their work; it has nothing to do with work. Find out which orchestra she played in, see if there's a link there."
Before Lestrade can process that they've skipped from his cracked ribs - which he's sure are just a little bruised - to the dead woman playing in an orchestra, Sherlock is gone; disappearing out of the front door. John hesitates for a moment; Lestrade can see his instincts as a doctor warring with his desire to follow Sherlock.
"I'm fine," he assures John. "Slipped on some stairs, already been checked out by a doctor. Nothing to worry about."
It doesn't sound very believable to him, but both John and Donovan seem to buy it. They disappear off in different directions, Donovan muttering about the freak leaving them with cryptic clues and how can anyone tell if she even plays an instrument, while John races after Sherlock. Lestrade stands for a moment over the body of the young woman, composing himself. It's going to be another late night. He has a family to inform of their daughter's death, the press to deal with, paperwork, evidence, more paperwork. It'll be easier to sleep at his desk again, not very comfortable with sore ribs but easier. He pulls out his mobile and leaves a message for Paul, he won't be home tonight, can't get away. He refuses to let himself think about the real reason he's staying, refuses to acknowledge that sleeping at his desk will be safer
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So anyway - PLEEEEAAASE!!!! update soon, I'm waiting with bated breath :)
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I wouldn't worry about what it says about you, what does it say about me that I'm writing this?
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"Not 'till we've caught this guy," Lestrade answers. It's the truth after all, he wants this guy caught. Too many people terrified, too much money at stake, his bosses breathing down his neck. He more than wants him caught, he needs him caught.
"It's a woman," Sherlock says. "This case, you're looking for a woman. The reason you don't want to go home though, that's a man."
Lestrade almost stops breathing. There's nobody within hearing distance but that's not really the point. Before he can pull himself together enough to form an answer, to deny - whatever it is that Sherlock is insinuating - Sherlock has spotted something on the other side of the room and is gone.
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"Have you got a moment?" John is suddenly standing over his desk, Lestrade hadn't even noticed him arrive.
"In private?" John prompts.
"Sherlock come up with something?" Lestrade asks, as he gingerly pulls himself out of his desk chair. Sleeping in it has done nothing for his back, let alone any of the bruises.
"No," John replies, watching Lestrade critically. As they head for an empty interview room, Lestrade can practically feel John studying him, a doctor's gaze taking in the stiff way he moves trying to avoid pain. Except that this is John, not Sherlock. Sherlock might be a genius who can figure out more in one glance than most people could in an hour of study, but John isn't. John won't be looking for his injuries because he has no reason to think they exist. He's just being paranoid. The reassurances last him until he closes the door of the interview room behind them and turns to see what it is John wishes to talk about.
"Sherlock thinks someone is hurting you," John says, his expression is half apologetic and half assessing. He clearly wants to believe, just this once, that Sherlock is wrong. Lestrade is prepared to give him that, after all he's fine. Paul is getting better, they even talked about anger management last night. Before he can deny it though, John continues, "He's at least partly right, you're definitely hurt. You're limping, and you've clearly hurt your back."
Lestrade raises an eyebrow at that, he's used to Sherlock announcing things, deducing facts out of next to nothing, from John it's something new.
"I'm not Sherlock, but I'm a damn good doctor," John tells him, correctly interpreting his expression. "Let me help?"
For a fraction of a second, Lestrade almost says something he shouldn't. He almost asks for help. John is so sincere and professional and calm that it would be easy, but he can't. He can't let them know they're right, Sherlock will gloat and hold it over him, he'll spend the rest of his life waiting to see which crime scene or other inappropriate moment this will be revealed at. Besides, it's going to be fine. Paul was so sorry last night, they're going to talk some more tonight and it'll all be sorted before long.
"I'm fine," he brushes John off. "Sherlock is a genius, but even he gets things wrong. The only thing that's hurting me is too many hours sitting in that chair," it's not strictly a lie after all. He has been sitting in it far too much. "Tell him to stop thinking about me and start thinking about the case a little more. We need a result on this one."
It's only hours later, as he prepares to go home, that Lestrade considers the fact that Sherlock sent John to have a private conversation with him instead of announcing his conclusions in front of onlookers. Perhaps he had been wrong then, Sherlock might not have gloated, might not have held it over him. It didn't change anything else though; John can't help him because he doesn't need help.
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I'll be F5ing now XD
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More plz?!
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