Hey there, Fang here. My voyage into writing Sherstrade has begun with this little blurb. I'm still not sure on the characterizations, but this isn't too bad.
"Lestrade. Stop this."
Greg looked up blearily, fingering the glass from his hand. Even in the darkness and his state of mind, he could recognize the imposing figure.
"Fuck off."
"Lestrade, I am serious. I refuse to lose your affections to drink."
"Could have fooled me. I said fuck off, and let me fucking be."
"Wonders never cease."
Sherlock's footsteps drew closer. The glass was neatly whisked away from his fingers. Greg glared and went for the liquor again, but Sherlock had already placed it out of reach.
"Damn it, Sherlock!" he snarled, rising off the sofa and into Sherlock's arms. The lanky detective wrapped himself around the cursing man, holding him close to his body until his struggles died.
His grip loosened, cradling rather than restraining the shaking man. Greg twisted his fingers into Sherlock's shirt, curling into his embrace.
Sherlock pressed his lips to his temple.
"Am I not a better substitute?" he whispered into the soft strands of Greg's hair. Quiet sobs were his only answer.
Reviews are welcome. Thank you.