A/N: Because it's Saturday. And also because I'm in a good mood and this was bouncing about in my head like a ping-pong ball, so here we are... Despite the fact that I pretty much just barfed this out and put it on the Internet (don't worry, I read it through first) I do so always love to hear what you think, so reviews are welcome. Very, very welcome. And have a wonderful Saturday/Sunday/weekend.
Lestrade had more than a few memories of Sherlock Holmes. After all, he'd known the guy for over five years. But one memory in particular stuck out in his mind above all the rest. It was after Sherlock had come back from the dead, something Lestrade still on occasion had trouble believing had actually happened.
It took about a month for him and John to clear his name, and even when it was official he still had to simply ignore a lot of speculations and presumptions thrown his way, sometimes quite bluntly. During that time, he kept a strategically low profile, speaking only to John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade unless absolutely necessary.
But of course, that certainly didn't mean that he stopped chasing criminals; quite the opposite, in fact. He took advantage of his forced discretion to do his work in peace and managed to get a better record than he'd ever gotten before.
It was toward the conclusion of one of these cases that the two men went to Lestrade for some information they couldn't look up on their own. Needless to say, there was still tension between Sherlock and John that would take a while to get over. On that day it was somewhat palpable, the two men standing slightly apart from each other.
Lestrade told them what they wanted to know, doing his best to ignore the potent awkwardness between the pair of them. Sherlock took the information and ran with it, solving the case in under two minutes.
"So, all you have to do now is find the guy," Lestrade remarked idly. The three stood there for a second when, lo and behold, their suspect popped out onto the street not ten feet from where they stood. All four of them turned to look at each other simultaneously, none of them quite able to believe their eyes, before the criminal came to his senses first and took off in the opposite direction. Sherlock turned to John.
"Shall we, John?" There was a slight gleam in John's eye as he swept his arm in the direction their suspect had done a runner.
"After you." The two men bolted off after their man, who it had to be said was not in the best of shape and had barely cleared a street before the lanky detective and his friend were hot on his heels, and easily caught up with him, dragging the unfortunate criminal back down the road to where Lestrade waited, supporting himself against the doorframe to keep from falling over laughing.
"Well that was truly exquisite timing, wasn't it?"