A/N: Donovan is a bit out of character in this fic, but I'm picturing all of them a bit younger then in the BBC-series, so imagine her being 27 and not at all as serious as she is in the series.
A 39 year-old Greg Lestrade stood in front of the mirror in a tiny bathroom, examining his hair and the many streaks of grey running through it. His hair had been salt-and-pepper before, but recently the grey had started dominating as the main colour of his hair. Greg sighed, he really didn't like the reminder that he was getting old. He knew he didn't look bad, his 7-year younger husband reminded him of that every so often, but that was the problem. Sherlock didn't have a single grey hair on his head, and it just made Greg feel even older. He knew he couldn't compare to his husband in either looks or brains, so he tried to keep himself as fit and good-looking as possible.
Sherlock sat up on the bed, watching his husband running his hands through his hair again and again. He smirked a bit, knowing that Greg was unaware of being watched, and Sherlock shamelessly checked out his gorgeous backside. After a few moments of appreciating it, his gaze fall on the hands that are still running through the now mostly grey hair. Sherlock knew that Greg was insecure about it, thinking that it made him look old and unattractive, but it actually made him look distinguished. He hadn't really mentioned it though, and he knew he should, Greg tented to get a bit insecure in their relationship, because Sherlock was so much smarter than him, and Greg thought that he wasn't half as good-looking as Sherlock was.
Sherlock didn't really get that actually, he thought he wasn't even half as good-looking as Greg, he was far too skinny and his hair always went in every single direction, no matter what he did. He didn't quite like his lips either, the cupid bow of his upper lip wasn't quite right, and his lower lip was too full. He had gangly limbs and too sharp cheekbones, but he knew Greg loved all those features. He could see it quite often in his lingering looks. But he knew Greg wasn't as perceptive as he was, and felt more insecure, so Sherlock often went out of his way to show him that he did find him gorgeous. What he didn't do often, was compliment the man, preferring to make it obvious how he felt by his actions, rather that his words. They both knew that most people lied, so they both preferred to act on how they felt.
Sherlock knew though, that this time he had to compliment the man, knowing that Greg wouldn't believe him, unless he said something about it. But he couldn't do it directly either, knowing that Greg would think that he'd deduce that he was insecure about his hair, and thinking that Sherlock would only be trying to placate him. So he'd have to say something in passing.
Hearing Greg washing his hands, Sherlock quickly lay back down, pretending to only just now waking up, so his husband wouldn't know he had seen him being insecure.
Sherlock smiled, when Greg bend over him to kiss him awake. "Morning Greg." he mumbled.
A couple of days later Sherlock was helping his husband with a case at the NSY, leaning over the older man's shoulder to watch what he was doing on the computer. He got distracted by Greg's silver hair, when the other man drew a hand through it in frustration. He really did like the silver, and he once again contemplated about how he would make sure that Greg knew it.
Excusing himself to go to the bathroom, he left quickly, already pulling out his phone to google how to reassure his partner. Not paying attention to his surroundings, he startled when he heard his name drifting out from behind a cubicle screen. Stopping, he cocked his head to hear what was being said about him. He soon identified Donovan and another female, that he hadn't caught the name off, but that he had seen around crime scenes before.
"I don't know what Greg sees in Sherlock though." Donovan said, and Sherlock bristled a little at the casual mention of his own name, he had never given Donovan permission to use it.
"I mean, Sherlock is handsome, yes, but he's a complete arse!" Sherlock stopped himself from snorting, not wanting to be discovered eavesdropping.
"I know!" The other female exclaimed. "And Greg could do so much better than Sherlock. He's clever, friendly, good with his hands..." Sherlock heard Donovan mumbling a quiet agreement at the comment about his hands, and he thought by himself smugly, that only he got to know quite how Greg was with his hands. "... and a total fox!" Sherlock frowned a little, not understanding the fox bit. He googled the reference.
Fox
A term used to describe someone thought of as very attractive/sexy. Can be used for males or females.
Sherlock whole-heartedly agreed with the notion, now that he understood it.
"Oh, absolutely!" Donovan agreed enthusiastically. "He's so hot when he's taking charge of a crime scene. If I knew for a fact he'd be into it, I'd drop on my knees right then and there." The other female laughed loudly at that and Sherlock rolled his eyes. He knew for a fact that Greg was not into that.
"You know, next time we have a need for code names, I'll suggest that Greg's has to be Silver Fox. You know, for the totally hot grey hairs." Donovan and the other female burst into giggles at that and Sherlock stepped into the cubicle, an idea forming in his head on how to reassure his husband, but wanting to make sure that both females knew that Greg was his.
"First off, I hate to have to agree to you, Donovan." Sherlock said, startling them both.
"But I don't know what Greg sees in me either, and he is indeed clever, friendly, very, very good with his hands." Sherlock paused in his speech, letting them think over how exactly Greg could be very good with his hands.
"And a total fox. But." And he paused again, to emphasize the but.
"He's MY Silver Fox. And if I catch either one of you talking about him again like that at his work place, I'll tell not only him, but everyone about what exactly you write about when you're pretending to write reports."
He knew they wrote fanfiction about his husband, and he had kept it to himself that he knew, until a time such as this, when he could use that fact against the women to get the point across that Greg was his, and that he would never let go of him, unless Greg himself wanted to.
Both women were staring at the floor, heads bowed and their cheeks aflame, whether it be they were ashamed, of furious, Sherlock didn't care. As long as they stopped talking about Greg like that. At least at NSY, Sherlock didn't care what they did in their free time. Pleased with the results of his little speech, he stalked of to Greg's office, bathroom break all but forgotten.
Later that evening, when Greg was getting ready for bed, he was suddenly fed up with Sherlocks quiet grumbling. Ever since he went to the bathroom that afternoon at the NSY he had been silently brooding.
"What's going on with you today, love?" He asked, fixing Sherlock with a stare that belied his gentle questioning tone. He knew that Sherlock would deduce from it that he wasn't mad, but that he had to explain himself. Sherlock flushed a bit, clearly not expecting to be caught out.
Happy that he had got his point across, he went back to brushing his teeth, examining his hair in the bathroom mirror. Having looked away from his husband, he missed the quick smirk that got thrown his way.
Sherlock didn't talk until they were both lying on their bed, Greg wrapped around Sherlock's curled up body.
"Sherlock." Greg grumbled a bit, nuzzling behind his husbands ear.
"Nothing's going on with me, Greg." Sherlock said, not making it easy for him.
"Sherlock." Greg grumbled again, tickling his sides, which got his husband squirming in his arms.
"Stop... Argh! Greg... Alright, alright, I'll talk." Greg grinned and let go of a panting Sherlock.
Sherlock glared at him. Greg just lifted an eyebrow.
"Fine." Sherlock huffed, before continuing in a silent mumble. "I don't like it when Donovan is right." Greg frowned in confusion, before bursting out in laughter. He couldn't believe his husband sometimes. Sherlock scowled at him.
"S'not funny Greg." Sherlock mumbled, secretly pleased by the laughter, while firmly keeping his scowl in place.
"Sorry, love.." Greg chuckled, pulling Sherlock a bit closer. "What was she right about?"
Sherlock shoved Greg off of him, knowing he had to pretend that he was offended by the laughter, while he was instead pleased that his plan was going so well.
"That you're a Silver Fox, with your hair turning grey." Sherlock mumbled.
Greg was floored, and it showed. His jaw went slack, as did his arms around Sherlock and his eyebrows almost disappeared in his hairline. Sherlock frowned at him.
"What?"
"Silver Fox?" Greg blinked. And blinked again. "You think I'm a Silver Fox?"
"Of course I do." Sherlock said, using his pointer finger to close Greg's mouth, which had fallen open again.
"I... Sherlock... Oh god, I love you!" Greg swooped in then, kissing Sherlock as if his life depended on it, but Sherlock didn't mind in the least. He rolled them over, until Greg was on top of him and gave as good as he got himself.
Needless to say, he was quite pleased that his plan had worked out this perfectly.