written for taylorpotato because she is the Sherstrade goddess and I love her stories so much. She is my queen and I will gladly follow her so I thought maybe I would write something for her in return.

and

rainbowwingedwhale because she is like my little ray of sunshine. she always makes me smile so hopefully I could do the same for her with this.

warning: I don't have a beta and have no confidence in my writing, so I'm pretty sure what you're about to read is crap but is the best I can do. and I mean... it's the thought that counts right?

Gregory Lestrade sighed as he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Today was a relatively quiet day at work, completely devoted to finishing the devastating mountain of paperwork. His team did not receive any new cases; even though it was valentine's day had they were expecting a fair few domestic disputes. Lestrade suspected that Mycroft had something, no, everything to do with. It was supposed to be a thank you for taking care of Sherlock all this time but it really felt like tortue. Glancing again at the computer screen, he begged his eyes to focus. No luck. Paperwork dulled his senses and he very much wanted his evening to be not dull, so who better to go to than Sherlock Holmes, his partner. And it was valentine's day, even though Sherlock referred to it as "a sentimental waste of his time" it would be nice to see the man. Greg knew Sherlock would be grumpy and not very good company, but even just being around the man would be enough.

After switching off his computer and grabbing his jacket Lestrade locked his office and headed to Baker Street, sending a quick text.

Coming over. Bringing your gift. I know you said today was complete rubbish but I wanted so see you. I'll be there in 15 minutes. GL

It didn't even take the full ride of the lift to the ground floor for him to receive a reply.

I knew you would. I'll see you shortly. SH

Oh that cheeky bastard. Of course he knew. Lestrade only hoped he hadn't been able to deduce his present. He thought long and hard and finally he thought he made the right choice and to have Sherlock ruin it with his freaky brain power would just be the frosting on top of the cluster fuck cupcake that was today. He pat his jacket pocket to double check his gift was inside. Sure enough he felt the slight bulge and could hear the wrinkling of the paper. He smiled and started his car. Even if Sherlock did figure it out, he knew he would love it.

He pulled up to Baker Street and hurried to the door. Try as he might to seem cool and in control, Sherlock still turned him into a bumbling, love struck idiot. He raised his hand to the buzzer when he saw the note on the door.

Mrs. Hudson won a romantic evening for two at a hotel (courtesy of Mycroft) and is spending the night pampering herself. John has assured me that he and Mary will stay at their place and not try to "cheer me up" for having to spend valentines day alone. Come on up. SH

Lestrade's heart started to pound. This, this almost seemed romantic. But… no… he opened the door as if he was going to be attacked as soon as he stepped inside. He made his way upstairs and entered the flat to find Sherlock lounging on the sofa. As soon as he entered Sherlock jumped up and dragged him into the kitchen.

"I made dinner, well I say made… I bought dinner," Sherlock explained with a smile. "That pizza place you love. They are the only place that hasn't banned me yet for deducing their delivery boys."

Greg just smiled at him.

"What? Did I do something wrong? I could try to cook…"

Greg silenced him with a finger to his lips.

"Everything is fine. Perfect even. Just… come here."

Greg pulled him into a kiss, then pulled him into the kitchen to grab food. They sat in the living room on the sofa leaning against each other to eat. They talked and laughed over their old adventures and wistfully speculated about new ones, all together jus basking in each other's company. After they finished eating Greg put their dishes in the kitchen, grabbed a thick envelope from his jacket pocket and sat back down on the sofa, handing the envelope to Sherlock.

"I guess I should give you your gift now."

Greg smiled sheepishly as Sherlock opened the envelope and pulled out it's contents and stared at the papers before him with a blank face. Greg started to panic.

"I know it's stupid, but it's the only thing I could think of that I know you like and that no one in a million years would even think of getting you. Probably because they all think you would raise an army and take over the world. Can you imagine? You probably could. Oh god, that's probably what you're thinking right now. As soon as you can you will probably go down to that cottage and start training all the bees in your new hives for war. There will be little bee terrorists. A human vs. bee war. And you'll win, of course you will. You're brilliant. I will be the reason for London's downfall, all because I had to be a sentimental prat on valentine's day. Oh god your brother is going to kill me. No worse than kill me. Tortu-"

Sherlock cut off his tirade with a swift, chaste kiss.

"Gregory, you're babbling. This is perfect. You are right about one thing go. I want to go as soon as possible. So, when is your next weekend off from the yard?"

Greg's relief was quite obvious as soon as they broke apart from the kiss, and his smile just kept growing as Sherlock continued to talk.

"You want to go… together?"

"Keep up Lestrade, of course. Now, I believe it is time for your gift. No, don't look so shocked, I knew that you being the sentimental moron that you are would get me a gift, so I planned ahead. Wait here."

Sherlock stood up and walked over to the kitchen. Greg just sat there in shock, listening to his loves footsteps walk into the kitchen and over to the, refrigerator? What? That shook Greg from his thoughts as Sherlock came back to sit next to him with a box. The box was wrapped in plain red paper and it looked like a two year old had done it. Hesitantly Greg removed the wrapping paper to reveal a Styrofoam cooler box that looked like the boxes Bart's used to transport body parts.

Greg looked over to Sherlock and could see, and feel, the excitement radiating off the younger man. Whatever was in this box, Sherlock was proud of it. So whatever Greg found, he knew he had to tread carefully. With a calming (supposedly) breath and shaking hands Greg opened the box and looked inside.

"Sherlock…are these…human?"

Greg looked up to the man beside him in shock as Sherlock just nodded happily. In the box were two human hearts, roughly sewn together to create the shape of the iconic heart symbol. On each half, seared into the hearts with some sort of brand, were the initials 'GL' and 'SH'.

Greg should be appalled. He should demand Sherlock tell him where, and how, got the hearts. Demand he apologize to the family of former owners of these hearts. Demand he dispose of them. Demand he never do something like that again. He should be angry. But he couldn't. He couldn't help his smile. For Sherlock, this really was rather… sweet. He couldn't help it. From the smile on Sherlock's face, to the declaration seared onto the hearts in his hands, and his own rapid heartbeat. He was stuck. He couldn't hid his absolute love and devotion on his face, nor did he want to, as he pulled Sherlock close and kissed him deep hoping that Sherlock could feel everything that Greg just couldn't say just yet.