He's a company man, your right hand, 13 years and counting. No detectable ambition, a model of efficiency, far as you can see. He knows every loophole, the art of fine print, massages the numbers 'til they fit. And every time you ask him for another vanishing act, he half-smiles as if to say: Whatever you want, whatever you want, whatever you want is fine by me. Whatever you want, whatever you want, whatever you want is fine by me.

"How long has it been, Clarkie?"

"Sir?"

"How long have you and I been working together?"

Inspector Lestrade, one of Scotland Yard's finest seemed to be having a great deal of trouble remembering exactly when he'd taken the young constable under his wing. He ran a hand along his recently trimmed beard as he thought it over yet again, blue eyes resting on the stack of papers he should have been signing. It had to have been more than six years, since it had been that long since the younger man had been promoted to Constable for stopping a murderer, but it couldn't have been more that fifteen years, since Clarkie hadn't been on the force that long yet.

"Thirteen years, sir. Since I joined the force as an officer. You had me on your team the second day I was on."

"Ahh! Right you are boyo. An' how long have you been stayin' after hours t' help me with papers?"

"Ten years, sir. Since I discovered you have been spending all night here in the office to do them." The Constable did not look up.

"Y' know y' don't have t' be here, lad. You could be at home."

"With respect, Sir, I doubt I'd be doing anything more exiting at home. As you know, I live alone."

The younger man set his pen down on the table, leaning back in his chair for a moment. It had been a far longer shift than he'd hoped it would be, but then again what did he expected with two weeks of case reports to fill out? He could have gone home, Lestrade was right, but he didn't feel the Inspector should have to work all night on his own and besides that, it wasn't as though he had a wife to go home to.

Lestrade had been thinking similar thoughts as a comfortable silence filled the room. He had no wife to go home to either, and while this bothered most, he was comfortable without a woman present. They only ever seemed to be good for getting in the way, unlike most men. Usually men could be relied on. Men like John Watson for instance. He was always reliable, as long as your name was Sherlock Holmes.

"How long have we been goin' t' see Holmes and the Good Doctor?" Lestrade broke the silence.

"Err." Clarkie considered this for a moment. "I'd say about ten years, sir. For Mr. Holmes that is. The doctor began to help us around six years ago, when he moved in with Mr. Holmes."

"Ah, right again. And what do you think of them?"

Clarkie raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Just an off question, Constable."

"Well, I find Mr. Holmes rather remarkable! He's able to deduct things I don't think anyone else would ever be able to from the simplest things." He continued, only briefly noting Lestrade's discomfort at the comment. "And as for the Doctor, well he certainly is an intelligent man to say the least, but I don't think my opinion carries as much weight as…"

"As what?"

"As yours."

"What about mine, Clarkie?"

"You are… Well sir you're fond of him, are you not?" Before Lestrade could answer Clarkie added "And I don't just mean you admire his medical work."

For a long time the Inspector just watched the Constable. What the younger man had just suggested was certainly odd, but not far from the truth. What Lestrade wished to know was how he could have known. Was it that obvious? In any case, this was a man the Inspector trusted with his life every single day. IF he couldn't admit it to this man, who could he?

"I am… yes. It that obvious, Clarkie?"

"Only for someone looking, sir."

The constable went back to scratching signatures on papers, trying to allow the awkward air to pass. When he realized it wouldn't, he decided it was because the conversation was not finished, and without taking his eyes off the paper he'd been writing, he continued it.

"Why not ask him?"

Lestrade dropped his pen in surprise. "I'm sorry laddy, what?"

"Ask him, sir."

"I'm afraid not, Constable."

"It isn't as though he's exactly 'straight laced', Sir."

"I'm aware." Lestrade explained, picking the pen back up. "But he's also spoken for."

"Is he?" Clarkie raised an eyebrow, turning his attention to Lestrade.

"Yeah. Holmes has 'em."

"Ahh." Clarkie nodded. "Should have guessed that one."

"Yeah…"

Another hour went by as the two of them signed papers and wrote reports in silence. There wasn't anything else to say o that matter at the time, and while the air was still slightly awkward, it was somewhat comfortable as well. Lestrade was pleased to find his Constable didn't shun him. In fact, he didn't seem to mind at all. Clarkie wasn't married, was he? No… He never wore a ring. Perhaps there was a reason that fine young man had never found someone to settle with? Perhaps Lestrade could test the waters. After all, he'd been fond of the Constable just as much as he had the Doctor.

"Clarkie?"

"Sir?" Again he did not look up.

"I've meant t' thank you."

"For what, Sir?"

"For all the times I've asked you t' bail me out. Every time I've ever needed a vanishing act, or a loop-hole, or just some clever warding, you've always been there t' cover me."

"It's no trouble sir." Clarkie assured him. "I'd do anything for you. Absolutely anything."

"Anything?"

"Yes, Sir."

Lestrade pushed his chair out, standing and moving to sit on the desk in front of the young man, pushing his papers aside. The Constable looked up, clearly confused. He set his pen down, resting his arms on the arms of the chair he was seated in, watching the Inspector.

"Even if that anything was highly inappropriate for a superior officer to ask for his subordinate?"

The constable gave a half smile. "Whatever you want, Sir."

"I want you to kiss me."

"Wh-?"

The chair the constable had been sitting in slid back and his body rose before the words could even fully set in. He stared at Lestrade in disbelief. His commander was asking him to break the law, out and out, in the police head-quarters. On top of that, the Inspector assumed he was batting for the same team, which he was, but that was not the point.

"You said anything, and that is my request."

"But sir! First of all that's against the law! Second, we're in the police building and it's against the law! And third, I thought you loved the DOCTOR!"

"I'm fond of the doctor, or I was for some time… but I've been fond of you for far longer, hence my taking you onto my team so quickly."

"Any here I thought I was doing a good job."

"You do a very good job, Constable. You're my finest, in every sense."

"Do you mean this, sir?" Clarkie had relaxed a little, but his eyes were on the ground.

"Every word. You think I'd be riskin' my neck and our jobs if I didn't?"

"No…"

Another few moments passed and Lestrade began to wonder if he'd made the wrong move. Perhaps Clarkie wasn't the type he thought he was. Perhaps it was best to just get back to papers and pretend that it never happened. As he moved to do so, however, his hopes were restored. The young Constable stepped into his space bubble, taking hold of both sides of his commanding officers face and forced his lip into the other's. The Inspector was shocked for a moment, but allowed himself to relax, wrapping his arms around the Constable and kissing him back.

Clarkie seemed tense, obviously nervous about this situation. Lestrade could feel this, and decided to take it upon himself to fix the problem. From his sitting position on the desk, he looped his legs around the back of Clarkie's and made sure he was as close as possible before he began to move his hand up and down the younger man's back, soothing any nerves he could. After moments, their kiss was broken, and Clarkie could do little more than stare at his superior.

"Now was that so bad?"

"No… Sir." Clarkie admitted, making no effort to back away from the slightly shorter man.

"Good. Now comes the real question, Constable Clarke."

"And what would that be, Sir?"

"How far are you going to let me go tonight?"

"I told you sir…" Clarkie's voice shook, if only very slightly. "I'd do anything for you…"

"I hope you mean that, Clarkie. I really do."

Quickly and skillfully, Lestrade slipped his hands out from behind Clarkie, unbuttoning his uniform's jacket and slipping it off the slender shoulders that held it. He took hold of the shirt that was reviled, locking the young Constable into another kiss as he pulled the front of his shirt open. Another article of clothing found it's way to the floor as Lestrade finished with the buttons, running his hands over the soft, untouched skin below.

Clarkie shuddered with every touch his Inspector lay on him, resting his arms on the shoulders of the man undressing him. By the time Lestrade was testing his skin, he'd already melted into the kiss he'd been locked into, enjoying every moment of it. He'd wanted this for far longer than he cared to admit. He felt the strong be shocking gentle hands of the Inspector run down his sides, forcing another shudder and resting on his belt, holding him there.

Clarkie's hands moved from the shoulders they'd been resting on, moving to the front and removing the same articles from Lestrade that had been taken from him. In moments the two were pressed against each other, chest to chest, kiss growing more passionate by the moment. Clarkie's hands tested the flesh before him, just as Lestrade's had his. It was a pleasant feeling to say the least. Neither of the men had felt that way in so long, it was slightly overwhelming.

After a few moments, Lestrade began to grow impatient. His hand ran along Clarkie's beltline, stopping at the buckle and working to get rid of it. When the slight clank stating it's release sounded, Clarkie jumped slightly. The button on his pants was freed as well as the zipper and in a moment, he stood before his commander in nothing more than his underwear.

Lestrade slipped off the desk, pushing Clarkie back slightly. He ran his hands over the waist of the garment that still covered Clarkie, as though asking permission to remove it. Clarkie pulled out of there rather heated kiss, looking straight into the Inspector's eyes. He gave a slight nod and waited. Lestrade hastily took the invitation, removing the garment and allowing it to fall where it may. Now he looked upon his Constable, in all his glory and arousal.

"Now that's a sight." He breathed.

"If you say so Sir… My concern is my lack of view."

He moved his arms forward, playing with the belt that held Lestrade's pants and removing it swiftly. The came copy-cat motion as before lead to Lestrade being completely unclothed in a matter of moments, equally as exposed and aroused as the Constable.

"Much better…" Clarkie murmured, trying not to stare.

"You can look, Boyo." Lestrade grinned. "And touch."

Without warning, he moved forward, looping a leg around Clarkie's and pulling forward, forcing Clarkie to fall back. He held tight, cushioning the impact for the Constable, but the fact still remained, they were on the floor, and Lestrade was laying just on top of him. This was farther than he ever thought they'd get.

After a moment to asses the situation, Lestrade began to run kisses along the constable's neck, straight down his torso to his hip bones. Every few kissed, the Constable would jump, but nothing was as bad as the hips. When Lestrade's mouth contacted the skin above the hips, Clarkie could not help himself. His hips bucked and his head tilted back. An extraordinary feeling to say the least. Pleased by the response, Lestrade continued, but moved his mouth back up the Constable's body, feeling that to much to soon might scare the man off. Still, the fact remained that Clarkie's little 'problem' below the waist needed to be attended to and Lestrade had no intention of allowing him to go unsatisfied.

His hand traced down the body of the man before him, finding their way to his hips and drawing tiny circles. The Constable bucked twice more before Lestrade's hand wrapped around his shaft, moving up and down in agonizingly slow strokes. A few whimper's escaped Clarkie as his hands gripped to Lestrade's sides. As Lestrade's strokes began to quicken, Clarkie's body unconsciously rose and fell to meet it, moans escaping his throat before he stop them.

"Ah. Sir… Oh lord!" he called, tossing his head back once again, trying to stay quiet incase anyone came back. "Oh my god!"

Lestrade seemed pleased, and only more so when the younger reached his climax. The beautiful rush of warmth that covered him was more reward than he ever expected to get. The fact remained that his lower area's still throbbed, but he could take care of that. He'd gotten what he wanted out of the night and more. As he moved to allow the Constable breathing room, he felt a warm hand on him and his attention was instantly back on Clarkie.

"May I assist you, Sir?"

Lestrade nodded lightly, positioning himself to hold himself over Clarkie. The younger was more skilled that Lestrade would have expected. His hand moved swiftly, but carefully, making sure not to cause release before the pleasure was fully enjoyed. Grunts and moans escaped the Inspector just as they had Clarkie, though no words. He threw his head back as the motion grew faster and the grip the constable had on him increased. It wasn't long after his release was at hand.

He slumped over next to Clarkie, wrapping his arms around him. The Constable pushed closer to his commanding officer, stealing what heat he could from the other. He was tired and prepared to sleep exactly where he was, shaking slightly from the effects of the orgasm.

"That was…"

"I know, Clarkie."

"Sir?"

"Yeah?" Lestrade's eyes were shut.

"What does this mean…?"

"That you're mine, Constable."

"I like the sound of that…"

"Come one." The Inspector opened his eyes, sitting up. "Clean up, clothes, then back to my place. You can sleep there."

"Yes sir. As you say."

And somehow, everything was right.