One Moment
moonlustre
The faint resonance of 'Jingle Bell Rock' floated along the winter breeze like an exquisite cruise liner bobbing along the sea, and thick marbles of snow danced along with the rhythm as anthem after Christmas anthem pulsated through the high street. The illuminated atmosphere left nothing to be desired for Margot's never-fading festive spirit as she swivelled one leg over the other to rest her aching feet, the gentle pressure of her hand on the back of Lestrade's arm forcing him to follow her as she collapsed onto the bench.
"Remind me why we didn't just buy everything online again?" Condensation was a waterfall as it pooled from Lestrade's chapped lips and he dropped the mountain of heavy plastic bags to his feet. Exhaustion weighed him like an anchor.
Margot adjusted the woollen hat atop her head, its hue as silver as Lestrade's dishevelled hair, and laughed lightly – so light it was like a songbird chirping. "Because wanting to violently commit mass genocide in the middle of Selfridges is all part of the Christmas spirit, sweetheart."
"Ah, right, yes." He let out a gravelled sigh as he rubbed his tired eyes. A blanket of black had settled over London despite the hands of Big Ben, barely viewable on the horizon amidst buildings of Victorian and modern architecture, indicating it was only five o'clock. The lights that hung overhead in a plethora of shapes and colours were the only stars distinguishable against the cloudless heavens, yet it was enough to tug a yawn from Margot's mouth, to trick her body into thinking it was far later into the evening that it truly was.
The cobblestone walkways had started to become carpeted by the falling snow, like moss growing on the trunks of trees in forests that were far from the centre of England's capital. Margot loved Christmas, even the spirited chaos it wrought, and she let her head fall back to become intoxicated on the aroma of cinnamon and hot chocolate from nearby food stalls. Her eyes slowly fell closed.
The warmth she felt soon after was indescribable but welcome, a smooth softness on her lips that plucked her straight from reality. The bags of presents yet to be wrapped and food for the dinner yet to be cooked were removed entirely from recollection as the kiss on her mouth deepened, and she missed the feeling of Lestrade's hair as she pressed gloved palms through the tousled strands. Had he delved any deeper into her, she feared she would never regain the breath she'd lost deep in the depths of her flushed chest.
Lestrade's eyes smiled when he pulled away; it was only then that Margot had realised he let his hand cup her rosy cheek and his thumb caressed the freckled veneer of her face as though she were a porcelain doll. He peered hungrily into her chocolate brown eyes as she did to his until her gaze flicked above him.
"No mistletoe." She stated almost blankly despite the mischievous beam that blossomed along her reddening cheeks. Lestrade's chest vibrated against hers as he chuckled with a bashful facade.
"Is it needed?" He questioned with a swift jerk of his head. His mouth was a magnet that forced her focus down on them every time she peeled it away, until Margot could hold back no longer.
"I suppose not." Their lips melded together once again, the kiss short and sweet and their noses clumsily compressed together, the aura of peppermint on the air and 'All I Want For Christmas' ringing in their ears.
Author's Notes
My first Sherlock fic, written to explore
Margot and to push myself out of writer's block.