Breaking & Entering
He had this irritating habit of breaking into his flat in the middle of the night. Sometimes Lestrade would be working, sometimes making tea, others watching telly in the living room- he'd even been in bed a few times when Sherlock insisted on entering his flat from the fire escape outside the window or picking the lock on the front door. Lestrade had given up on making Sherlock leave, because he wouldn't. He did still insist on questioning him about his presense- Which Sherlock never actually answered.- "You have your own flat where you can work, Sherlock." "so?" "So you don't have to come here and bother me in the middle of the bloody night, you wanker!" Sherlock looked at him like he was analyzing something, but couldn't generate the answer to his inquiries, He looked hesitant... "Do I...? Do I bother you?" Something in Sherlocks voice made him blink. It was...nothing he had ever heard before. He hesitated too long and Sherlock seemed to take it as an answer. He was at the door before he could say another thing, he looked over his shoulder at Lestrade, His eyes the most open Lestrade had ever seen. "I'm sorry, Greg. I don't mean to bother you, honest...I'm just...Lonely..." Lestrade watched him go while stuttering an apology and trying to ask sherlock not to go, but he was gone and Lestrade tried not to dwell on it. Sherlock would surely return the very next night, just as he always did...
But he didn't. And Lestrade missed him...he hadn't been alone in his flat for more than an hour for over two weeks and suddenly the loss of Sherlocks presense was maddening. He decided he would apologize and ask Sherlock to resume hiw nightly visits with no more complaints from Greg the very next time they saw one another. The next time they saw each other, however, was turning into a week, (a week in which Sherlock pointedly ignored any texts from Greg. Lestrade wasn't quite sure what to make of that.) He was certain he was going mad from the noiseless quiet- every sound the house made was Sherlock breaking in...and then it wasn't. Lestrade found it was becoming increasingly obvious that something was odd...or that at least, something odd was becoming increasingly obvious to him. He missed Sherlocks intrusion like a limb, and for everyday that Sherlock didn't creep through his window, a stinging pain burned in his chest. sherlock claimed he was lonely. So being in Lestrades company eased his lonliness. The thought brough a glowing warmth with it...
The end of the month brought their first meeting since that evening in the flat, but Sherlock arrived at the crime scene not alone. he was dragging a shorter man around with him- Whom he questioned protectively, Sherlock did not provide him with any information other that "he's with me." Which Lestrade wasn't really sure how to take the implication that lie there in. There was a look in Sherlocks eyes that Lestrade had never seen before, but found very familiar. He was looking at John like he was a savior. Like he was in love, like Sherlock Holmes was in love. The thought was un-fathomable and painful and it made him want to hide...it felt like suffocating. 'oh...' and then everything, all at once, made too much sense. He knew that look. he'd seen it in Sherlocks eyes when he had saved him from the drug use. When he had helped occupy Sherlock through the Withdrawal, he knew that look because sherlock had looked at him like that. At one point, only a month ago, he'd seen that look. He'd been seeing it for 5 years...Just never noticing- never observing. Just as Sherlock always said..- Sherlock Holmes had loved and Idolized him. And in his own way never asked for more than companionship to occupy his lonliness- and Lestrade had turned him away. he had told Sherlock over and over not to break into his house and missed him when he didn't. They say hindsight is 20/20...but god was he really that blind...? After all those signs...had he really missed all of those OBVIOUS signs...? He had the nerve to just let Sherlock go on suffering...
He decided he didn't deserve Sherlock.
John was a good man. Lestrade tried to smile when their relationship was revealed- when Sherlock didn't need him anymore. John didn't notice anything wrong, but that was okay, It wasn't his job to notice things...But nothing fooled Sherlock. Especially not Gregs half-hearted, false smile. It had been almost a year since that night when sherlock had moved the curtain aside and shown Lestrade his heart. His real heart that no one but he and john knew even lay beneath that cold exterior of logic. Since he had told Lestrade he was lonely...Sherlock wasn't lonely now. He didn't still want Lestrades company, he had Johns.
So it surprised him when his window opened up and Sherlock came inside from the fire escape, scaring the wits out of the detective- much like the first time he'd done it- "Christ Sherlock! What if i'd had my gun on me just now!" "your window is still unlocked. Not very safe, Detective..." Lestrade would never admit to the reason it was still open...but he figured Sherlock had already deduced it anyway, so it didn't really matter...It was no use trying to hide things from him. "i'm sorry Inspector, that you didn't realize things sooner, but I wasn't willing to tell you what I knew and you'd have never accepted my deduction anyway. I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you've done for me...Greg...But our time has passed. I've moved on, and so should you..." he locked the window and used the front door as his exit. Something just told him that John was probably waiting outside for him...breifly, the thought occured that he ought to arrest him for breaking and entering...and breaking some more...but not for his Flat.