Rubbish, these feelings.
Feelings.
Not even feelings so much as desire. And not that kind of desire. If he's ever actually experienced that, it was fleeting, boring, not worth pursuing.
What he wants, when he thinks about his friend, is merely to spend time with him. Not in the way he currently spends time with him. No crime fighting or running through the streets of London. No chase.
Today, as he rinsed a bowl of cherries to eat while researching the finer points of the corrosion of surgical implants after death, an image flashed in his head of sniffing flowers and poking fruit with Greg Lestrade at the farmers ,arket.
The farmers market for God's sake.
Fruit.
Flowers
Feelings.
Holding hands.
And what after? Dinner? Neither of them minding when Angelo puts a candle on the table?
Rubbish.
Because even if Greg Lestrade is interested (and Sherlock has reason to believe he might be) what comes after is the problem.
Not that Sherlock is seriously considering anything. It's a mildly interesting mental exercise, at least for the moment, to conjecture how Lestrade might react to the reality of a...relationship with Sherlock Holmes.
That Lestrade has engaged in sexual intercourse is evident by his children. They are indeed the DI's progeny. Sherlock checked. Little Keith still won't speak to Sherlock. He didn't mean to tug the tot's hair quite so hard when taking a sample, but needs must. The child has very stubborn follicles.
Does Lestrade enjoy sex? Was the ex wife's serial adultery a result of an unfulfilled libido?
He rarely engages in lads talk, even when there are no women present, but that could as easily be a result of his moral compass not of a lack of interest.
He's dated a bit since his divorce, but nothing has stuck. Is it the job and the long hours and the frankly pathetic hangdog expression Lestrade still carries around? Or is it something else?
Lestrade has come onto a crime scene more than once looking flushed, relaxed and satiated. Not to mention freshly showered. NO real way to tell if he'd come from having sex or an exceptionally good workout.
The older man keeps his body fit, out of vanity as much as necessity for his work. Sherlock would quite enjoy watching him workout. While he prefers activities such as swimming and martial arts to stay fit, Lestrade is a machine enthusiast, logging countless miles on the treadmill and hours on the resistance machines. The results are pleasing. It might be nice to look at him naked for awhile. Perhaps touch him, to test the suppleness of his skin atop his hardened muscles. To smell the mingled aftershave (drugstore brand, a twice yearly gift from the children) and sweat.
But would Lestrade want more? And if so, what is Sherlock willing to give?
Not that he's seriously considering it.
Except that he is.
He has no idea how to begin. He moves from the desk to his chair, settling in to think.
Ask him on a date. Make it clear it's a date since they've gone to various coffee and sandwich shops one on one in the past on cases.
If he accepts, if it all goes well, when do you have that conversation. The one where you tell him you like spending time with him but you aren't interested in sex and won't be interested in sex. Yes, you're sure. NO, there's nothing physically or psychologically wrong. Yes, you've checked. Okay, Nice to know you. Hope it's not awkward?"
Sherlock sighs and picks up his violin, plucking idly at the strings as he runs through a list of everyone he knows to find someone he can ask.
John is out. He would never comprehend fully and insist he get his hormones checked.
Molly would understand, probably suspects already, but their relationship hasn't sufficiently recovered enough for him to ask things of her.
Mrs. Hudson is open minded but is such a fervent believer in free love that she might not get it. He's also not in the mood for her more randy anecdotes.
His brother. No.
Anthea is capable and objective but obligated to report to his brother
Donovan knows Lestrade well enough to know his preferences but also clever enough to pick up on Sherlock's reasons for asking.
Ditto Mary on the perception. He's not ready.
Anderson would put forth the question to his fan club #sherlockheartslestrade would be trending on Twitter within hours.
The Woman would know what to do but he doesn't know where she is.
He plucks the D string violently and goes to the window, pulling his phone from his dressing gown pocket.
--Wiggins. Come to Baker St. I have some questions. Discretion absolutely paramount.-
The reply comes within seconds.
-On it sir, but if it's about your DI friend, the answer is what are you waiting for?-