(A/N- it's been quite a while since I've updated, but Sherlock fans should be used to that ;) Oh, that was cruel of me. I am so excited that the third season is airing in the USA soon! Anyway, I'm trying to get this one going again, but November is NANO and I probably won't update at all that month, or very, very rarely. Here's a quick start back into the story though. Watching more of Sherlock lately and I've got these two stuck in my head again. Please enjoy, and thanks to anyone still following/reviewing/favoriting. It's appreciate. Apologies for any mistakes in here, I haven't a beta right now. Cheers!)
"I really should be going. I have to travel with Sherlock and John in a confined space tomorrow. I think I'll need some rest before taking on that adventure." Lestrade wasn't looking forward to leaving Anthea, his hand cupped over the top of hers, but he really did need the sleep.
She smiled at him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I should be going to. While I calmed things down, I wasn't quite finished. There's a lot of paperwork to accompany the Blackberry dealings."
Lestrade's eyebrows went up, his forehead scrunching in surprised lines. "Oh? I thought everything would have been virtual with you."
"Mm, were it up to me, yes. Unfortunately, Mycroft is a little on the old fashioned side. He prefers to have tangible documents for every major, erm…" She tilted her eyes up towards the ceiling as if searching there for the word. "Activity, I think we should refer to them as." Her smile was bliss, putting a dimple in the left corner of her cheek.
"Safest way to describe it, I'm sure." He smiled to her and picked his hand away. His palm went shockingly cold and he tried to keep a frown from replacing the smile. He placed money on the counter for them both. "Shall I walk you out, then?"
Anthea nodded, and Lestrade was on his feet before she could stand. He put a hand to her lower back. His fingers spread perfectly across it, contouring to each curve easily. She stood up and leaned into the touch, her own arm slipping out to hug about his waist. Lestrade nearly leaped from his skin when he felt Anthea's hand slip into his back pocket. Then he smiled and looked like a beaming secondary school boy with his crush.
"I'll be in Hazelmere probably a couple of days. I could em, stop by when I get back if you'd like. I'll bring desert." He smiled more charmingly at her, obviously trying to be flirty. The DI was really starting to feel his confidence return with her by his side.
Anthea's eyes lit up, if it were possible for those blue sapphires to shine any brighter. He loved to watch them as they seemed to change colour slightly with her moods. "I think that would be fine." She set her chin somewhat in the air and waited for Lestrade to the open the door.
He pushed it open and urged her out first, then followed. "Taxi or will a car appear for you?"
Anthea looked down the road and then back to Lestrade. "I'm just round the corner, actually."
Lestrade glanced around the area and then looked back to her with his eyebrows raised. "Right, well I'd love to walk you home, then."
The hand in his pocket squeezed slightly and he rocked up on his toes. Anthea pulled her hand from it and detached herself carefully from his arm. "I'd like to say yes, but then you'll come up and I'll offer a drink, and then, well we know what follows that. It's late, you have to be up, and I have things left to do…"
Lestrade held his hands up in a defeated manner and took a few steps back down the sidewalk with a smile. "Say no more. I got it. I'll see you around, then." He tucked his hands in his jacket and tilted his head a little, watching her.
Anthea tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and watched him back. Neither seemed to want to move away from the other, but both knew they should. Figuring this indecision needed to be made up, Lestrade stepped back up to Anthea and leaned over planting a kiss on her cheek. "Have a good night, Anthea."
"You, too Lestrade."
He walked backwards a little and so did she, both blushing and smiling at one another. Lestrade liked this side of the woman, this emotionally open side that seemed to reveal her true nature. At least a glimpse of it. He could feel they were both slightly awkward with one another still, and it would take time to get completely comfortable with one another, but if it kept going like this Lestrade was looking forward to getting to know the real Anthea. The Anthea that wasn't buried in the Blackberry and tied to Mycroft.
They turned around about the same time, and Lestrade headed back for his flat. He caught a taxi down the road and was home in just a few minutes. He paid the cabbie and stepped out, planning on stripping down to his pants and making a night of it on the couch with the telly in the background.
Lestrade pulled the rented car out front of 221B Baker Street and sat twiddling his fingers on the steering wheel. His mind was bouncing between the last few days with Anthea, and the upcoming trip with Sherlock and John. Of course, the doctor wasn't an issue. John would be pleasant company, more than likely. It was Sherlock that Lestrade was somewhat worried about. He genuinely liked the man, despite all of his oddities, but he wasn't keen on sitting for an extended period of time with him in a close space. Lestrade was able to get over most of those oddities because he didn't have to spend so much time with him.
John was out of the door first, a backpack tossed over one shoulder. He had that charming patched jacket on, and a nicer pair of jeans. He was pleasantly smiling and made his way to the front seat of the car, giving a wave to Lestrade as he neared.
The DI smiled and held up a hand in return. "Where's your missing half?"
"Through a fit on the couch. He'll be down when he realizes I'm missing, which hopefully is any minute. I slammed the door hard enough."
"Another ruined jumper?"
"No," John laughed, shoving his bag between his feet before going for his seat belt. "Sherlock's upset that he can't drive."
Lestrade cocked an eyebrow up. "Can't as in doesn't know how, or can't as in I made it clear that I was doing all the driving?"
"Oh, he knows how. He drove us all the up to Baskervilles place, that military base, for a client not long ago."
"You're a trusting man, John Watson."
John laughed again and nodded his head. "I'm starting to come to terms with that."
Lestrade shook his head and leaned back in the seat. "I'll leave without him if he doesn't hurry up. I have things to do here." He looked out of the window, bringing his elbow up to rest on the door and his hand went to sit under his chin. Traffic was light as it was still early in the morning and a weekend to boot. The DI felt a little tired, but he knew he would be kept well awake with the company he'd have in tow.
John cleared his throat and Lestrade could hear him shifting in his seat, probably to look out of the window and await the arrival of Sherlock. Lestrade briefly glanced with his peripheral to confirm this and glance at the black door with those big brass numbers.
"There are other flats there, aren't there?" He asked, turning about more fully now and staring at the 221B. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly.
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, aren't there an A and C flat inside, too?"
John looked at the door then back at Lestrade, and had a look of sudden realization on his face. "Oh yeah, about the B on the outside. Well Mrs. Hudson used to have only two flats, an A and B. The shop next door used to be A. She just never got around to correcting the door after she sold the place next door."
"Mm. Oh! Here we go." Lestrade sat up and turned the key in the car as Sherlock came down the couple of steps out front.
Sherlock clicked away on his phone. "Where we going?" He climbed into the back with only a quick glare in John's direction. He had a bag over one shoulder that found its way next to him in the seat.
Lestrade frowned, "Hazelmere, in Buckinghamshire County."
"Ah yes…" Another few clicks on the mobile. "Population 9,350. Well, 9,349 now."
John and Lestrade rolled their eyes at the same time.
"Don't repeat that there, Sherlock." John leaned around the seat to look at him as Lestrade pulled into traffic and headed down the road, out of the city.
Lestrade could see in the rearview mirror that Sherlock was giving John a flat look as a response. Then the man was back to his mobile. The first half hour of the trip was filled with too much silence and Lestrade was starting to feel the effects of his sleep deprivation kicking in. He was definitely the unnatural machine that Sherlock was, and would soon be suggesting they stop for coffee and maybe a couple of biscuits or something.
"That DI is making this into something it's not, you know that don't you Lestrade?" Sherlock piped up from the backseat. He leaned in between the two seats and looked at him intently. "It's a suicide."
"You haven't even seen the crime scene, Sherlock. You can start spouting your nonsense once you do. And also, you owe Detective Inspector Covington an apology."
"Like Hell-"
"Sherlock!" Lestrade and John said in unison.
John turned in his seat and stared Sherlock back into his seat. "Just apologize and get it over with. It's easier that way, and you know it. You did call the man an incompetent, know-nothing dunce."
"He did?" Lestrade's mouth hung open as he looked in the rearview mirror at the consulting detective.
Sherlock grinned and Lestrade had to bite down on his tongue to make sure he didn't laugh out loud about it. Honestly, Sherlock voiced many thoughts that Lestrade had and didn't feel comfortable voicing. That didn't mean he and John would correct him. Lestrade had mean it when he said he hoped that one day Sherlock could be a good man, and he would do his best to help the man along.
"Look," Sherlock started in, obviously going to explain this deduction and get the two men on his side of things. "This popped up in the news, a leak of some sort that the DI couldn't control. I saw quick pictures, taken by someone in the crowd obviously. Just from the blurry glimpses, you can see right away it's a straightforward suicide. There isn't any obvious evidence of foul play and he let photos leak, therefore I called him an incompetent, know-nothing dunce. Or something along those lines, I'm sure."
"Oh, that's word for word, first sentence at least."
"Did you jot into your blog then?" Sherlock sniveled.
Lestrade frowned as Sherlock went back to his mobile and Lestrade looked over at John. He mouthed to him, "What's wrong with him?"
John just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Lestrade glanced at the road, then back when he saw movement from John. The ex-army doctor was holding up three fingers and mouthed the word 'days' to him.
Giving him a nod of acknowledgement, Lestrade went back to driving. "I'm stopping for coffee." It was a statement that he got no argument regarding. He decided to just pull into a petrol station with a Wild Bean Café.
The break was short and the three were soon back on the road. Lestrade balanced a cup in one hand and a breakfast muffin on his lap as he drove. John had the same, and Sherlock had a cup of fruit that he was picking at suspiciously.
Lestrade looked back at him with a grin, and hoped to lighten his mood. "Eating won't kill you, really. You should try it sometime."
He was rewarded with a glare that softened as Sherlock took in the smile from the man. "The strawberries are soggy…"
"Well, they've probably been sittin' there all day yesterday." Lestrade shrugged. "'S'why I go with hot food. So, what's got your knickers in a twist, then?"
Sherlock locked eyes with Lestrade shortly, until the driver had to look back at the road. "My knickers are none of your business, I think."
"Alright, no harm meant. Just worried about you."
It fell silent again and Lestrade was starting to think this was going to be a much longer trip than he'd originally thought.
Anthea sat in Mycroft's office with him. She was comfortably seated in one of the overstuffed chairs he kept in a corner, just for her as it so happened. Her hands were holding the Blackberry but they were idle for now, something very rare when she was on the job. Mycroft himself was just sitting, hands steepled beneath his chin and eyes focused on the closed day planner on his desk.
"Something wrong?"
"Hmm?" Mycroft pulled himself from a trance and looked up at Anthea, eyebrows up in questioning.
"Is something wrong, Mycroft?" She tucked her phone into her pocket and stood up, walking to his desk in the silence following her question. She parked a hip against it and stared down at him. "You're doing that Holmes thing again."
"What Holmes thing?" He folded his hands across the top of the desk, and stared back at her.
She smiled softly. "The hands, the brooding."
"You don't know that I'm brooding."
Anthea reached out and put soft fingers on Mycroft's forehead, feeling the thought-wrinkles that sat there. "No, but you're very quiet."
"Well, that there is cheating." He brushed her hand away from his face.
"Mycroft…" She dragged his name out slowly to draw his attention back to her.
He looked at her and ran a tongue over his canine tooth, on the right side. "How's Gregory?"
She shook her head. "About Sherlock then, isn't it?" Anthea let out a long sigh and retook her seat. "It's going well, thank you. He's been fine."
"Good." Mycroft smiled at her, that one that almost seemed real and probably was, but since Mycroft had as many issues with social interactions as any Holmes seemed to it came off looking faked. Not that Anthea could read it well to begin with.
"I never thanked you for it, so, thank you." She picked up the Blackberry and started back to work, emailing a new politician that Mycroft had some high hopes for. "Are you funding his campaign, dear?"
"Perhaps, play around a bit first though. Check his background well. I don't want to have any nasty surprises." Mycroft flipped open the day planner and picked up a pen.
And back to work it was. Anthea hoped that her emailing would be interrupted by a text soon. "Of course." She smiled.