mjls
in
dilestrade
Caring - Sherlock/Lestrade
Title: Caring
Author: mjls
Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox
Summary: SPOILERS FOR 'THE GREAT GAME' -- Lestrade is worried and goes to see if Sherlock is alright after he hears about the bombing
It had been a long night. Paperwork and bad coffee. That was basically it for Inspector Lestrade at slow times like this. No real good crimes that needed Sherlock Holmes' attention and therefore not really that interesting in general so the good inspector was soon bored out of his skull. The paperwork that followed was enough to keep him busy for several hours however. It was when he went to get his 6th...no, probably his 10th cup of coffee since last night, that he heard the news about a bombing in Baker street.
His cup smashed on the floor and the coffee he had just poured in it spilled all over the floor, making a downright mess. Donovan asked if he was alright but he was so frozen on the spot with the news echoing through his head that she actually had to shake his shoulder to get him to respond. Why hadn't he been informed of this. It was Baker Street for goodness sake! He shouted orders around that didn't even reach his own ears, his mind focused on getting to Sherlock to see if he was alright. Limbs, thoughts, shouts, everything he did at that very moment was his body on auto function. He didn't think, nearly couldn't breathe or even think straight.
"Inspector, even if you go there and there's something wrong with the freak, all you'll do is be in the way."
"Well I'd rather be in the way than to ignore the fact that the house across the street where he lives got blown up."
"I don't get it. Why do you care so much about him. He's a bigger nuisance than ketchup stains on a white t-shirt."
"Because, Donovan, someone has to care."
"He has his Doctor friend for that, and his creepy stalker brother. Why bother. Really."
Lestrade left the argument at that and left his office, his coat drifting on the air behind him as he nearly ran out of the door and jumped down the flights of stairs. Donovan sighed and shook her head, not getting the Inspector's affections for the man that she thought was a freak. The cab ride towards Baker Street was the longest ride the good inspector had ever been on.
It was filled with silence and the dreadful feeling in the pit of Lestrade's stomach didn't make it any more pleasant. The moment he got there, he jumped out and ran towards 221B, flashing his badge around to get through the barriers that the fire brigade and police had set up already to keep bystanders safe. Skipping a few steps of the stairs as he ran up, Lestrade tried to keep himself as calm as possible. The door to the flat was closed and the police that searched the surrounding houses probably took this as a sign that whoever lived here was out and therefore not subjected to the shock that the explosion brought. Shaking his head, Lestrade cursed the fools who skipped 221B, even though they probably couldn’t have done anything with the door closed, at least Lestrade knew where the secret key was (Not that Sherlock would ever have one hidden away but Watson did, just to be on the safe side).
Sherlock was probably all right and sleeping on the couch, Lestrade reasoned with his mind. If the man knew the concept of sleep that is. He never seemed to during a case. More often than once, Lestrade found Sherlock with huge bags under his eyes and weary limbs during investigations, due to a lack of sleep and food.
Finally managing to pry the secret key from its hiding place, Lestrade opened the door and found the living room in a mess that didn’t come as a surprise to Lestrade but the fact that Sherlock was on the floor, probably unconscious seeing as he wasn’t moving, in his nightgown and pajama’s alarmed the man more than it should've. He immediately ran over to check for a pulse and flip the man over on his back, placing a pillow from the couch under his head.
Satisfied and assured that Sherlock wouldn't go anywhere in the next few minutes, Lestrade ran back downstairs and alerted one of the doctor’s the scene and dragged him upstairs to check up on Sherlock. In the end, Sherlock was just unconscious from the blast knocking him down on the floor and he would have nothing to show for it.
Of course Lestrade would pester him about it in private but they both agreed to keep it silent. God knows what Mycroft would do if he realized his little brother had been knocked unconscious in an explosion. Let alone be the target of the actual explosion. Both Lestrade and Holmes suspected it.
"Don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Mycroft."
"As if I'd want to talk about finding you unconscious on your floor. Christ Sherlock."
"Not the first time it happened."
"Exactly. If you're at least half as smart as you claim you are, you know what it does to me."
"Are you going to tell me how I'll send you to your early grave again? Heard it all before, bored now."
Lestrade sighed and grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders, pushing him so he ended up sitting down on the couch.
"I don't care if you're bored of hearing it okay? Consider the people around you Sherlock, the ones that care about you."
Sherlock pursed his lips together and looked away from Lestrade's bright eyes looking down at him. They felt so judging even though the man wasn't trying to be. Sherlock knew that. No matter what happened, Lestrade would never judge him. It was one of the many qualities that the man possessed that Sherlock actually appreciated about him. That and his patience to deal with him. He wasn’t the easiest person to deal with after all. He closed his eyes and felt Lestrade sit down next to him on the couch, throwing his arm over Sherlock's shoulders and pulling him closer until their bodies formed one.
“People like you?” the soft whisper shook Lestrade out of the silence that hugged their still figures. Sherlock sounded so uncertain, so vulnerable that it shocked the Inspector for a good few seconds before he realized that he’d better answer to Sherlock’s question.
“Yes Sherlock, I care about you. A lot.”
Sherlock’s shoulders relaxed and his body curled up more against Lestrade’s as he muttered something that sounded a lot like a ‘thank you’ but Lestrade wasn’t sure and wasn’t going to guess what the man had actually said, instead, he laid down his head so his cheek was resting on top of Sherlock’s head and closed his eyes. Not that Lestrade actually had planned to cuddle with Sherlock on his couch but he was tired.
"Maybe a few hours of sleep...," he thought, "won't hurt anybody..."
Shifting carefully not to wake up Sherlock, Lestrade got Sherlock to lay on his chest as the Inspector caressed the dark curls, smiling. A short nap. Yes. Just a short one, half an hour, perhaps...
It was only when Mycroft woke them up nearly and hour and a half later that Lestrade realized that he was way too comfortable to even move.
Author: mjls
Disclaimer: Just playing in the sandbox
Summary: SPOILERS FOR 'THE GREAT GAME' -- Lestrade is worried and goes to see if Sherlock is alright after he hears about the bombing
It had been a long night. Paperwork and bad coffee. That was basically it for Inspector Lestrade at slow times like this. No real good crimes that needed Sherlock Holmes' attention and therefore not really that interesting in general so the good inspector was soon bored out of his skull. The paperwork that followed was enough to keep him busy for several hours however. It was when he went to get his 6th...no, probably his 10th cup of coffee since last night, that he heard the news about a bombing in Baker street.
His cup smashed on the floor and the coffee he had just poured in it spilled all over the floor, making a downright mess. Donovan asked if he was alright but he was so frozen on the spot with the news echoing through his head that she actually had to shake his shoulder to get him to respond. Why hadn't he been informed of this. It was Baker Street for goodness sake! He shouted orders around that didn't even reach his own ears, his mind focused on getting to Sherlock to see if he was alright. Limbs, thoughts, shouts, everything he did at that very moment was his body on auto function. He didn't think, nearly couldn't breathe or even think straight.
"Inspector, even if you go there and there's something wrong with the freak, all you'll do is be in the way."
"Well I'd rather be in the way than to ignore the fact that the house across the street where he lives got blown up."
"I don't get it. Why do you care so much about him. He's a bigger nuisance than ketchup stains on a white t-shirt."
"Because, Donovan, someone has to care."
"He has his Doctor friend for that, and his creepy stalker brother. Why bother. Really."
Lestrade left the argument at that and left his office, his coat drifting on the air behind him as he nearly ran out of the door and jumped down the flights of stairs. Donovan sighed and shook her head, not getting the Inspector's affections for the man that she thought was a freak. The cab ride towards Baker Street was the longest ride the good inspector had ever been on.
It was filled with silence and the dreadful feeling in the pit of Lestrade's stomach didn't make it any more pleasant. The moment he got there, he jumped out and ran towards 221B, flashing his badge around to get through the barriers that the fire brigade and police had set up already to keep bystanders safe. Skipping a few steps of the stairs as he ran up, Lestrade tried to keep himself as calm as possible. The door to the flat was closed and the police that searched the surrounding houses probably took this as a sign that whoever lived here was out and therefore not subjected to the shock that the explosion brought. Shaking his head, Lestrade cursed the fools who skipped 221B, even though they probably couldn’t have done anything with the door closed, at least Lestrade knew where the secret key was (Not that Sherlock would ever have one hidden away but Watson did, just to be on the safe side).
Sherlock was probably all right and sleeping on the couch, Lestrade reasoned with his mind. If the man knew the concept of sleep that is. He never seemed to during a case. More often than once, Lestrade found Sherlock with huge bags under his eyes and weary limbs during investigations, due to a lack of sleep and food.
Finally managing to pry the secret key from its hiding place, Lestrade opened the door and found the living room in a mess that didn’t come as a surprise to Lestrade but the fact that Sherlock was on the floor, probably unconscious seeing as he wasn’t moving, in his nightgown and pajama’s alarmed the man more than it should've. He immediately ran over to check for a pulse and flip the man over on his back, placing a pillow from the couch under his head.
Satisfied and assured that Sherlock wouldn't go anywhere in the next few minutes, Lestrade ran back downstairs and alerted one of the doctor’s the scene and dragged him upstairs to check up on Sherlock. In the end, Sherlock was just unconscious from the blast knocking him down on the floor and he would have nothing to show for it.
Of course Lestrade would pester him about it in private but they both agreed to keep it silent. God knows what Mycroft would do if he realized his little brother had been knocked unconscious in an explosion. Let alone be the target of the actual explosion. Both Lestrade and Holmes suspected it.
"Don’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Mycroft."
"As if I'd want to talk about finding you unconscious on your floor. Christ Sherlock."
"Not the first time it happened."
"Exactly. If you're at least half as smart as you claim you are, you know what it does to me."
"Are you going to tell me how I'll send you to your early grave again? Heard it all before, bored now."
Lestrade sighed and grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders, pushing him so he ended up sitting down on the couch.
"I don't care if you're bored of hearing it okay? Consider the people around you Sherlock, the ones that care about you."
Sherlock pursed his lips together and looked away from Lestrade's bright eyes looking down at him. They felt so judging even though the man wasn't trying to be. Sherlock knew that. No matter what happened, Lestrade would never judge him. It was one of the many qualities that the man possessed that Sherlock actually appreciated about him. That and his patience to deal with him. He wasn’t the easiest person to deal with after all. He closed his eyes and felt Lestrade sit down next to him on the couch, throwing his arm over Sherlock's shoulders and pulling him closer until their bodies formed one.
“People like you?” the soft whisper shook Lestrade out of the silence that hugged their still figures. Sherlock sounded so uncertain, so vulnerable that it shocked the Inspector for a good few seconds before he realized that he’d better answer to Sherlock’s question.
“Yes Sherlock, I care about you. A lot.”
Sherlock’s shoulders relaxed and his body curled up more against Lestrade’s as he muttered something that sounded a lot like a ‘thank you’ but Lestrade wasn’t sure and wasn’t going to guess what the man had actually said, instead, he laid down his head so his cheek was resting on top of Sherlock’s head and closed his eyes. Not that Lestrade actually had planned to cuddle with Sherlock on his couch but he was tired.
"Maybe a few hours of sleep...," he thought, "won't hurt anybody..."
Shifting carefully not to wake up Sherlock, Lestrade got Sherlock to lay on his chest as the Inspector caressed the dark curls, smiling. A short nap. Yes. Just a short one, half an hour, perhaps...
It was only when Mycroft woke them up nearly and hour and a half later that Lestrade realized that he was way too comfortable to even move.