#lestradler

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563224/chapters/67277011

They are Bi disasters. I won’t explain them anymore than that. This chapter is 5k of evidence. 

aydamagethematurerminded asked: Hi! I love your work, could I ask for a prompt? It's after Sherringford and Irene Adler turns up for whatever reason and threatens molly (either seriously or as a joke to annoy Sherlock) but Sherlock's not having any of it. Maybe molly is there when it happens? You are amazing :D

Me: Enjoy this slightly naughty T rated fic. It's Sherlolly, even if it may not quite seem like it.

"My, my, Sherlock, what would Kitty Reilly say if she got her little pitty-paws on some of the snaps in your phone? I don't doubt she'd pay me a pretty penny for any one of them, but especially the one with Miss Hooper in the hat…and nothing else!"

Sherlock, who had stopped, paralyzed with a combination of shock and panic at the sight of Irene Adler perched naked on the arm of his sofa and scrolling calmly through his mobile, sprang into action. "Give me that," he growled, snatching the phone from Irene's unprotesting grip. "Woman, what are you doing here?"

"Can't an old friend drop by for a visit?" she asked with a little pout…but her eyes remained wicked and knowing. She ran a hand up his leg; he twitched away and she laughed. "Oh, relax, I'm not here for you. You weren't supposed to be home for hours yet, at least that's what my dear friend told me!" She had the audacity to wink at him. "And I must say, I'm so pleased you have your own 'dear friend' these days."

A dear friend who would be home in about fifteen minutes, having taken a half-day after an exhausting week. "Woman, get your clothes on, get whatever scheme you have going on out of my flat and out of my life, and consider yourself told no. No the scheme, no to whatever trouble it is you're currently in, and especially no to, to dinner!" The last word was said in a lower tone, almost a whisper, and he found himself involuntarily glancing around as if they might be overheard.

Then something she'd said earlier finally brought itself to his attention. "Wait, what 'dear friend' are you talking about?" he demanded.

As if on cue the door to the bathroom opened, emitting a cloud of steam…and a very naked Greg Lestrade. "Right, all done," he said cheerily as he made his way to the sitting room. "Suppose we should start lookin' for our clothes, eh?"

His grin vanished as soon as he saw that Irene wasn't alone. "Bugger all!" he exclaimed, automatically reaching down with both hands to cover himself. "What’re you doin' ‘ere?"

"Oh, don't mind me, it's just my flat," was Sherlock's sardonic rejoinder. He glanced down at Irene, still unselfconsciously naked, and raised an eyebrow. "Really, Woman? DI Lestrade?"

"Really really," she replied, rising gracefully to her feet and crossing the small distance to stop by Greg's side. She linked her arm through his, ignoring his squawk of dismay as his hand was temporarily dislodged from its 'ow my balls' position. "I told you, didn't I, that I liked detective stories?" She smirked and placed a deliberate kiss on Lestrade's cheek. "And detectives?"

Greg sighed as another dog pull its master past the bench he’d been sitting on for the last fifteen minutes. He’d give her another five, then he was leaving, he told himself firmly.

Ninety seconds before his self-imposed deadline, a woman gracefully slid onto the bench next to him.  Even wrapped in a plain coat and a simple blue dress, she was stood out in a crowd.  Something about the way she held her head and the confident expression on her face that shouted “I am Somebody” to the world.

God, he loved her. Not that he’d ever tell her that. It wasn’t the sort of relationship they had.  

He could just imagine the way she’d scoff and look at him with pity in her eyes if he started to talk about feelings.  That wasn’t what she wanted from him.  It wasn’t what he’d thought he’d wanted, not more than a year ago when all this had started. Then it had just been fucking, a way to blow off steam when the world was particularly shitty.  Yes, now they spent just as many nights tucked onto his couch watching documentaries on the telly as they did in bed; but he always bit his tongue when he felt the urge to say something sappy.

“You’re late,” he grumbled instead.

“Had to pick up something from the bank first.”  She cast him a look from the corner of her eye.  “I brought you a gift, pet.”

Greg narrowed his eyes. He’d learned long ago that some gifts came with nasty strings attached.

Irene pulled a small box out of her pocket.  She snatched it back when he began to reach for it.  “There is a favor that goes with this.”

He knew it.

She tilted her head to the side and slowly dropped it into his outstretched hand.  “More of a question than a favor.”

The box was small and looked suspiciously like… No.  There was absolutely no way.

He clicked it open and stared at the diamond solitaire ring nestled inside.

“I wouldn’t be able to wear it while I’m working, obviously,” Irene began.  “But I thought you might like the tradition of an engagement ring all the same.  I’m afraid I don’t have the matching bands, but we can have something suitable made when the time is right, surely.”

“I’m-what?” Greg stuttered, finally meeting her eyes.  If he didn’t know any better, he would think she looked nervous.

“We’ve been together for a year.  I know you’ve been married before, but this is the longest I’ve spent in a relationship with one person in my entire life.  I felt I’ve been rather patient these last few months, waiting for you to get around to telling me how you felt, one way or the other.  But I’m tired of waiting.  So there you go, quickest way to end the uncertainty.”

"I know a policeman. Well, I know what he likes." - Irene Adler

Mention of Lestradler on @sherlockrarepairs recently had me hunting through my tag for this overlooked little gem (only 85 kudos!)  - it’s more a business relationship than romantic but still a scorching hot little fic!

Greg and Irene have a date but everything is different as they both contemplate how tomorrow changes everything. Yeah, the series is calledDon’t Complicate It but damn if they didn’t just go do that exactly. 

Enjoy, it drove me mad and took a vote by three people including @eclecticmuses​ and @stlgeekgirl​ to decide the title.

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21247724

Its called The Drop Off and its got everything. Greg avoiding the big questions, Mycroft Holmes doing what he does best, banter and a major plot point!

You’re welcome.