A/N: written for the kinkmeme prompt "Two male characters, comparing cock lengths" (although I kinda failed the prompt because it's more of a cock inspection rather than comparison, sorry)
"It's for science!" Sherlock threw up his arms in exasperation.
"I don't care if it's for science, I'm not doing it! I'm a married man!" Lestrade turned away and hurried down the hallway, Sherlock close on his heels.
"Oh, please, I just need to know the specifics of the average 50 year old penis, it's not as if I'm trying to get into your pants!" Sherlock exclaimed, ignoring the stares from the people they passed.
Lestrade quickly rounded a corner and strode into an empty corridor before he stopped, Sherlock following suit. After stealing a few furtive glances around to make sure that no one could hear them, Lestrade leaned towards Sherlock and said in a low voice. "Who says that I'm average?"
Sherlock cocked his head in indignation. "Don't flatter yourself!"
Lestrade flinched.
A long pause followed in which Lestrade intently stared at the file folder in his hands.
"I wasn't." he eventually murmured, shuffling his feet.
Sherlock looked at him with a frown before the penny dropped. "Oh, I see. You think you're too-"
"Yeah." Lestrade cut him off, arms now crossed in front of his chest, intently studying the ceiling.
"Well, if you'd let me take a look I'm sure I could put your mind at rest." Sherlock offered, apparently happy that he'd found a weak spot he could niggle at until he got his way.
Lestrade took a deep breath and was just about to decline when Sherlock added, "And you would help to solve a crime and possible further crimes, think about that."
The words made Lestrade hesitate. Sherlock had a point. Sherlock's brain worked in mysterious ways and maybe the information the detective would get from looking at Lestrade's penis was just the missing key.
"I don't know," he fiddled with the file folder. "What if it backfires? What if you don't find what you're looking for?"
"Let me be the judge of that. Please, Lestrade." Sherlock pleaded.
Lestrade looked at him in surprise. Sherlock didn't say please very often, so the whole thing must actually mean something to him. This new knowledge together with a faint hope made him waver again. Maybe he should actually do it. He'd had worries about the size of his penis for half his life and now he had a real chance to dispel them. Of course, his wife always told him she was happy with everything he had to offer but a second opinion, a man's opinion, could never go amiss, could it? And he was sure that Sherlock would be brutally honest, not like doctors who didn't really dare to say something negative or mates who merely joked about the matter because they were self-conscious themselves. Granted, it'd be embarrassing to bare his most private parts to someone he worked with, but then he'd have clarity. And if it helped to serve justice, even better.
"Pleeease." Sherlock repeated.
Lestrade rubbed his brow, then heaved a breath.
"All right. I don't know why I'm doing this..."
"It's for science." Sherlock reminded him.
The toilet was empty when they got there. Sherlock started fumbling with his zip as soon as the door had half closed behind them. Lestrade looked at him in shock.
"What are you doing?" he hissed.
Sherlock frowned, his hand already down the front of his trousers. "Well, obviously I need something for comparison."
Lestrade swallowed. Comparison, okay, he could live with that, could live with the risk that he might be bested by Sherlock Holmes in other areas than detective work. But - "You want to do it here?"
Sherlock looked around. "You said 'in the toilet'. So here we are."
"Yes, but not in front of the urinals! Someone could come in and see!"
Sherlock shrugged. "So? Men take their penises out in toilets all the time."
"Yes, but usually they don't compare them!" Lestrade flailed his arms.
"Then where would you like to go instead?" Sherlock asked and pulled his hand out of his waistband.
"In a cubicle!" Lestrade stated and strode off towards the one farthest from the door.
Sherlock rolled his eyes in exasperation but eventually, he followed.
It was a bit cramped in the cubicle with two adult men in it.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else. There isn't enough space in here. Come to think of it - wouldn't a photo do?" Lestrade rambled, feeling slightly nervous now that they were about to face the facts.
"Shut up and take it out." Sherlock hissed and opened his flies again.
Lestrade swallowed but complied. With trembling hands he pulled down his zip and reached inside his boxers. Not daring to look down, he fished out his cock and presented it, waiting for Sherlock's verdict.
"Well?" Lestrade swallowed nervously.
"I can assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about." Sherlock muttered under his breath.
Slightly relieved, Lestrade dared to take a look.
Sherlock stood next to him, trousers open and cock in hand, his eyes flicking back and forth between Lestrade's penis and his own, comparing busily. Lestrade leaned forward a bit so he could get a better peek at Sherlock's member before he looked back down at his own.
"Yours is longer." he concluded, but nevertheless happy that his penis size wasn't as bad as he'd feared.
"Yes, but yours is thicker. Besides, you're older so it was to be expected that you're not as big as you used to be."
Lestrade couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What? A penis doesn't shrink with age!" he protested.
"As you get older, skin and tissue become less taut." Sherlock stated matter of factly.
"Are you saying my penis looks old?"
"I'm just saying it's different from that of a 30 year old. But that's why I wanted to look at it in the first place, isn't it. Now, please, be quiet, I can't concentrate."
"Okay, okay." Lestrade shook his head and stared intently at the opposite wall of the cubicle, trying to push away the feeling that he'd just been insulted. As his eyes wandered over the old white tiles, he noticed that someone had drawn a Mr. Chad on them. Funny, he'd never noticed how much Chad's nose actually resembled a penis...
"Do you mind if I-" Sherlock muttered and Lestrade jumped when fingers suddenly touched him, there.
He looked down sharply and slapped Sherlock's hand away. "Yes, I very much do! No touching!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and rested his hands on Lestrade's trouser-clad legs. "But I need to take a look at the underside."
Lestrade's voice jumped an octave. "What for?"
"The perinal raphe and the bulbourethral artery." Sherlock droned.
"The - what?" Lestrade frowned.
Sherlock sighted. "Just show me the underside. The sooner you do it the sooner we're done."
Lestrade couldn't really argue with that. He knew that Sherlock wouldn't let this go, not now that he'd come so far, so trying to wiggle out of it would be useless. He heaved a sigh, then took hold of the head of his penis and bend it upwards, presenting the underside of the shaft to the waiting detective before him.
"That good enough?" he asked.
"Yes." Sherlock stated and leaned closer, already transfixed by some detail Lestrade probably didn't even know existed. It was a bizarre situation, Lestrade realized, him holding up his penis so that Sherlock (whose own member was still dangling merrily about) could take a look at it. He tried to turn his concentration back on Chad who stared at them like a peeping Tom, but his thoughts kept wandering off to places that were... unexpected, to say the least. Places full of Sherlocks and penises and the things you could do with both. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks.
"Hmm - interesting..." Sherlock's voice made him look down again, and he was just about to ask what was interesting, when he noticed that Sherlock's nose was hardly an inch away from his crotch - definitely too close for Lestrade's linking.
"Look, would you mind backing off a bit?" he pressed out through gritted teeth.
Suddenly, the door to the cubicle opened and the face of Sergeant Colton appeared, eyes bulging at the sight of Lestrade with his cock out and Sherlock on his knees in front of him.
Lestrade stared at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights but Sherlock didn't raise from his cowering position, in fact, he didn't even look up.
"Oh god, sorry, chief, so sorry! I didn't know you were busy. Sorry." Colton quickly slammed the cubicle door close again. Then hurried footsteps could be heard, followed by the bang of the door.
Lestrade awoke from his petrification.
"You didn't lock the door?" he hissed in Sherlock's direction.
"Hm?" Sherlock had taken out his magnifier and intently studied something on Lestrade's foreskin.
Lestrade couldn't restrain himself anymore. "WHY DIDN'T YOU LOCK THE DOOR?" It was meant to sound angry but it came out more of a whine.
"Why should I?" Sherlock asked absent-mindedly and tucked the magnifier back into his coat pocket.
"Because now half the Yard will think you went down on me!" Lestrade spat.
"Don't be ridiculous." Sherlock rose again, pulled out his notebook and a pen and started scribbling.
"I'm not being ridiculous! Colton's the worst gossip monger around, I bet everyone from the cleaning lady to the chief super knows by now!"
"...which supports my theory that if the people in this institution thought less about sex and more about work the clearance rate would be significantly higher." Sherlock said dryly, still taking notes. Then he suddenly turned, slid notebook and pen back into his pocket and left the cubicle.
"Wait, are we done?" Lestrade hobbled after him, penis still in hand.
"Yes, thank you, I got all the information I required." Sherlock strode towards the exit without sparing the DI another look.
Lestrade quickly tucked himself away and readjusted his clothing before he hurried after Sherlock. "And where are you going now?"
Sherlock had pulled the toilet door open, already typing away on his mobile. "Bart's. I need to take another look at the body. By the way," he paused and looked Lestrade straight in the eye, "your Prince Albert came as a bit of a surprise."
The heads of two plods who happened to walk past in the hallway jerked around. Lestrade inhaled sharply and wished that the ground would do him a favour and swallow him up, quickly.
Sherlock seemed unfazed, he merely gave him a wink, swirled his coat and then he was gone.
Lestrade stared at the slowly closing door. He probably should have told Sherlock that his family jewels were still hanging out but revenge was a dish best served cold.