Part 2! Muwhaha I am just having too much fun with this story. Leave a review, if you can.
From around the same area they'd heard the seemingly normal noises, there was a lot more activity. Then, someone was descending the steps.
Lestrade hoped and prayed that this was not happening. He wished that Anderson, in his arsehole way, had simply been horrified by Sherlock and John taking a brief nap. Maybe they had been cuddling. Perhaps they'd been snogging.
However, it was John's appearance that made him realize exactly what he didn't want to think had just happened had, in fact, just happened.
John's trousers were on right, but he was barefoot. His shirt was not tucked in, which was usually John's style, and the top button was undone. Looking like it had been flattened in a hurry, John's military cut hair was sticking out a bit on the sides. All of this could have been explained or written off, if it hadn't been for two very critical details.
One was that John's face was beyond red. His eyes were blown, and his brow was sweaty.
The other was the fact that Sherlock was walking down the stairs, hair in all sorts of directions, face flushed, and wrapped in nothing but a sheet and a smirk.
"Detective Inspector Lestrade," John greeted, trying to muster up as much dignity as he could. His eyes darted around, bravely meeting Lestrade's gaze but poignantly no one else's.
"John," Lestrade nodded, his face reddening.
"Um, I take it this is a drug's bust deal?"
"Yeah, sort of."
"Told you," Sherlock rolled his eyes from behind John.
"Look, I hate to tell you this, but the weapon is already on its way to Scotland Yard," John informed them all.
"As is the killer," Sherlock grinned proudly.
"What?" Donovan piped up.
"Yes, we found the murder weapon," Sherlock began, but John cut him off.
"Which Sherlock failed to mention was going to be in the hands of the killer. So we bagged him—"
"By that, John means that he single-handedly outmatched an accomplished boxer and had him in cuffs before the man could raise a word of protest; don't be so modest, John."
"We called Scotland Yard about forty-five minutes ago," John continued, ignoring Sherlock, "didn't someone tell you?"
"We were already on our way by that point," Lestrade said, becoming very angry at the guys back at the Yard. Why had no one contacted him to tell him that little piece of information?
"Anyways, you all have no business here," Sherlock dismissed, "and John and I were quite busy."
"Yeah, I take that," Lestrade mumbled, trying to be graceful about it.
Apparently, Donovan couldn't stand everyone ignoring the elephant in the room, "Didn't you bloody well hear us? We weren't all that silent!"
Sherlock smirked again and John looked aggravated. The tension released at the obvious switch in John and Sherlock's demeanor and everyone relaxed at what was clearly something of a dispute forming between the two of them.
"Well, I knew you were all here," Sherlock admitted, "but I kept John in the dark about it."
"How exactly?"
"Simple," Sherlock grinned, "I told him I wanted to try something new!"
"Sherlock!" John turned around to try and silence him, but it was fruitless.
"I asked him if we could see if we could try to be silent. I'll admit it was a struggle, John being ever so good with his hands—"
"Shut up!"
"And I thought he was going to give us away when—"
"How in the bloody hell didn't you hear us, John?" Sally demanded. Lestrade wished he'd shut her up because he knew whatever John was going to say was not something anyone wanted to hear.
John went very red, "I was, erm…preoccupied."
"Yes, with my mouth around your—"
"THAT'S quite enough!" Lestrade interrupted an all too smug Sherlock and pinched the bridge of his nose, "we'll all be leaving now."
"Excellent! John, back upstairs."
"I think I'm going to make myself some tea. That mood is very dead."
"But John…"
Lestrade did not stick around to hear anymore of Sherlock begging to be buggered. He tried not to make it look like he was running out of the flat.
Anderson was standing outside near the fence, looking completely dumbstruck.
"We're leaving now," Lestrade told him. Anderson did not say a word as he got into the police car. All of the others followed his example.