A/N: You'll probably need to have watched the episode of BBC's Sherlock called 'A Scandal in Belgravia' to get the full benefit of this. I was debating whether to rate this T or M as it is rather tongue-in-cheek so if (heavily) implied smut and naughty language isn't your thing, don't read! If it is…enjoy ;-)
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, or, indeed, New Tricks.
All was blissfully quiet in the UCOS office that Monday morning. All four team members were working at their respective desks, and the only sound that was piercing the silence was the clicking of keyboards and the rustling of papers. Brian yawned, stretching his arms before returning to his work. Sandra took a sip from her pleasantly warm coffee, the comforting scent of which was still filling the air. Jack signed off his paperwork with a flourish, his pen scraping against the wood of his desk. Gerry's phone let out a low, seductive moan to signify that he had a message. His three colleagues instantly sought out the source of the noise, looking up from their work to exchange bewildered eye contact. He looked down in shame. Shit, shit, shit. He might have known that whole debacle at the weekend would come back to haunt him. How the hell had she got hold of his phone?
"Sandra, was that you?" Jack began hesitantly.
"No it was most definitely bloody not, it was…Gerry."
Brian remained silent, gawping at his colleagues as though they had just told him they were relocating to Mars for the warmer climate.
"Gerry, what the bloody hell is going on?" Jack asked, desperately attempting to make sense of this bizarre situation.
"I can explain, honestly, just don't laugh, alright, it's-"With perfect comic timing, he was cut off mid-sentence by another 'ahhh' emanating from his phone. Another moment of awkward silence fell upon the office. He wondered who would be the first one to break and start laughing at him. He kept his head down, praying that this would delay the inevitable. Of course it wouldn't, Gerald, who are you trying to kid here? Brian was the first to let out a snigger, which naturally snowballed into a full-on tripartite laughing fit between him, Sandra and Jack. He decided to let them enjoy it for a bit, let them get it out of their system, then he'd attempt to explain without inducing another laugh at his expense. It was getting bloody embarrassing now.
Tears of mirth were rolling down Sandra's face when he decided to interject. "Alright, alright, you've had your laugh, it's not that funny…" Unfortunately, his attempt at silencing them only resulted in the inverse effect, adding to their hysteria. He sighed. Might as well see what she had to say to pass the time whilst he was being ridiculed. He unlocked his phone, tapping the messages icon with a hint of dread. Shit, he must have been drunk last night. No thanks to Frank, the slimy little sod, he'd kill him when he saw him.
"Not even a 'good morning'? How rude of you."
"And no reply?"
He felt bad for just running off like that, but she'd made him look like a prize twat. Getting on the Tube at five a.m. from a station halfway across London because he didn't have enough money on him for a cab, dressed in yesterday's clothes, not to mention the fact that he had booze and god knows what else split down his front. No bloody wonder all those banker types had been staring at him, he looked a state. At least he'd sobered up in the cold light of day.
"So come on then, tell us." Sandra's voice, throaty after laughing, shocked him out of his reverie. Christ, she sounded like…the woman. He cringed internally as he realised that he didn't even know her name. This was getting worse and worse by the minute.
"It's a long story, you don't need to know the gory details-"
"Do we want to know them?" Jack chipped in, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Probably not, to be honest. Anyway," he continued with his story, mentally editing it for public knowledge, "Me and Frank went out last night, he was taking me round all these dodgy places, you know what he's like. Well, I was pissed already, it was about midnight, I was gonna head home, but then we saw this posh, uh…gentleman's lounge or whatever you call it. Usually you have to have membership to get in but somehow Frank managed to blag our way in, it was just for the laugh, y'know, thought we'd see what it's actually like in these places. As I say, we were already pissed."
"Is this heading where I think it is? If it is, I don't know if I want to hear it." Sandra said, raising her perfectly plucked eyebrow. For Christ's sake, she really needed to stop doing that, it was giving him rather interesting flashbacks to last night. Which were entirely inappropriate for work.
"I've nearly finished, don't worry. So, me and Frank are having a drink in this place, then I went to the loo. When I came out, I was just heading back to the bar when there's this tap on my shoulder. I turns round, and there's this bird stood behind me, good looking like. I thought she was one of the girls from the bar at first but she was…different, y'know? Posher. Anyway, that's all I remember, except waking up in a bed on my own this morning." He finished his slightly twisted tale, taking a deep breath, ready to face the oncoming shitstorm. He didn't know why he'd even told them in the first place, but once he'd started, he couldn't stop. He felt better for it though, strangely. A weight off his shoulders.
"You slept with her? Gerry! You're a bloody embarrassment, you're sixty six years old, for heaven's sake, you really should know better. Besides, you barely even know her. Who is she?" Sandra launched into her usual rant regarding his drunken antics.
"Well that's the thing, I've never seen her before in my life. And what did she see in me, she was a lot younger…" he trailed off.
"Ey up, another one after you for your plentiful fortune Gerry," Jack winked, earning an eyeroll from Sandra.
"If only, mate, if only," Gerry replied, smirking.
"Is that her, then, texting you? How did she get hold of your phone?" Brian contributed to the conversation for the first time.
"Yeah, she must have found it when I was asleep and uh…altered the text alert."
"What does she say?" Sandra asked, already on her way to look at his phone.
"Do you bloody mind, give a man his privacy!" he protested as she grabbed his phone from his hand.
"I think you lost your right to privacy by making an idiot of yourself, don't you?" she remarked, scrolling through his messages. "Ooh, you haven't replied to her Gerry, how rude of you!" she mocked, putting on a drawly yet strangely seductive accent, much like the woman's.
"Yeah, and I'm not going to. This ends here." He said firmly. He might be an idiot when it came to love, but these days his moral compass was pointed directly at north. And this certainly wasn't love.
"Oooh, clever boy, Gerald," Sandra drawled, practically sashaying back into her office.
"Will you give up doing that?" he snapped.
"Doing what darling?" she replied with her sugary sweet smile that was normally only reserved for Strickland.
"Doing…that!" he waved his hand in annoyance, all too aware that Brian and Jack had descended into yet another uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"Whatever you say, Gerald."
The rest of the day passed without any major incident, except from a few sarcastic remarks, greeted by sniggers at his expense. Still, that was only to be expected, due to the fact that he'd left out the bit about the woman being a professional dominatrix. And the part where she'd sent him an email charging him £300 for her services.
