"Coffee or Tea?" John called out to an awaiting Lestrade, whom was perched on the sofa in 221B, impatiently twirling his thumbs.
"Tea, please." Lestrade called in response, glancing towards the direction of the Kitchen before diverting his eyes once again down at his thumbs. He was deep in thought. Following the events of his divorce, he had found sanctuary in 221B with grieving John. At first, Lestrade had visited John once a week, however, over the passing weeks his visits had become much more frequent. 'You should just move in', John said once with a warm laugh, commenting on the frequency of the visits. Lestrade considered the offer, confused as to it's validity. He wished the offer still stood, but he felt a rush of guilt and fear whenever he had rose to question it. Guilt and fear, emotions accumulated through something that he wasn't sure about. He just concluded that Sherlock's death may have been the root of them and the death's effect on John.
John sauntered into the living room, gripping two mugs of tea brimmed with milky tea. The scoaldering liquid swished side to side in the mugs as they travelled in John's small but broad hands, droplets escaping and landing on the floor in front of his feet. John reached Lestrade and held out the plain green mug, which he kindly accepted and grabbed the handle, placing it on the stand beside him to cool down. John sat beside him on the sofa, placing his plain orange mug on the floor and relaxed into the sofa, sprawled out across his half.
"Any new cases then?" John asked inquisitively, leaning in closer to Lestrade with a sense of curiousity.
"Unfortunately not. Since, you know, happened, there has been a lack." Lestrade replied, his voice softening at the mention of the events that occured only just over a year earlier. "I miss him"
"As do I, Greg." John's voice trailed off. Lestrade met the Doctor's eyes, giving him an empathetic look. "He was a great friend, even though he could be a pain most of the time." John smiled and Greg couldn't help but smile in return. His eyes diverted from the Doctor's eyes, down his nose and onto his lips. His lips looked soft to touch - with his own. Lestrade's felt himself lick his lips through his extended glance. As soon as he became aware of what was happening, he flicked his eyes back to meet John's hoping that the Doctor wasn't as analytical as his deceased best friend, but he met the eyes of a knowing man with a beaming grin on his face.
"You licked your lips." John enquired, smirking at the Detective Inspector. Lestrade felt his cheeks flush, deciding to look down to hide as much of his face as he possibly could from John, who was reaching into his jeans pocket to grab his phone. Lestrade turned to clasp the handle of his mug, bringing it closer to his chest before raising it to his lips to take a sip. His tongue felt like it had been dropped into the aggresively burning sun. The Detective Inspector yelped, dropping the mug on himself in the process before jumping up and patting himself down. John had reacted quickly to the spillage, narrowly dodging the flying tea and hopping up to fetch a wet sponge and a tea towel from the kitchen. As he returned, he bent down to sponge the sofa down. Lestrade stood idly, hanging his head in shame. "I'm so sorry, John."
"No, it's okay, there is no point in crying over spilt tea." John replied calmly, aggressively scrubbing the sofa. Lestrade took a moment to observe the Doctor. He had left his jumper in the kitchen and his tight shirt was clinging onto him, defining every part of his torso. The tiny splash marks left by the sponge had created see through patches, showing his fair skin beneath them. John's trousers were tight too as he was bent over, showing off his strong, pert legs and bum. Lestrade felt himself licking his lips again, turning his head in amazement at John's features until John turned around and caught him red handed.
"Your lips." John smiled, laughing whilst Lestrade formed an o-shape with his mouth in shock, his eyes widening and his cheeks flushing with colour. John stared intensely at the man; eyes dialated, check. Sweat, check. Flushed cheeks, check. John stepped closer towards the Detective Inspector, but Lestrade did not back away. He was frozen. John lunged for Lestrade's wrist, pressing his fingers lightly whilst gazing into his eyes. Heightened pulse, check. John released the wrist and snaked his arm around Lestrade's waist, pulling him closer and planted a peck on his lips. As John began to pull away, Lestrade resisted. He pulled John closer, prying his mouth open with his tongue lightly, deepening the kiss. John responded, thrusting his hands over Lestrade's neck, brushing it with his index finger subtly. Lestrade moved his hands over John's cheeks, brushing them with his thumbs whilst he reluctantly pulled away. Their foreheads rested against each other whilst they finally looked into each other's eyes, smiling and glowing.
"I never thought that would happen", whispered Lestrade. His breath tingling against John's face.
"It just has, and I hope it will again." John laughed, pulling Lestrade closer, initiating another kiss.