A/N – Just a short one, once again I encourage you to Author Alert, follow me on twitter (LifeIntrigues) or make the hop over to Ao3. Thanks for reading!
John dashed into Sherlock's bedroom and looked around for yesterday's clothes. "Ready to go?" he asked Sherlock as he spotted his trousers and pulled out his phone, checking it quickly for messages: none and battery: half.
"Mm?" Sherlock murmured standing by his shirts in just pants. "There's no rush, it's not like another murder will happen." He picked out a white shirt and started pulling it on. John frowned slightly. Sherlock pulled his trousers off a hanger, started to pull them on then grimaced as pain shot through his muscles. John rushed over, catching him as he lost his balance.
"Sit on the bed," he commanded and Sherlock obeyed with a small sigh. "Want some painkillers?" Sherlock shook his head as John crouched down and carefully pulled his trousers on for him.
"It's not really that bad, John." Sherlock protested as he stood and finished pulling his own trousers up.
"Shut up," John muttered pulling him down for a kiss, "I'll get the painkillers; you put your jacket on."
Sherlock watched him rush off and sighed. He hated taking painkillers, he liked to be aware of his pain precisely and it was hardly serious, just some sore muscles. He finished buttoning his jacket as John reappeared and turned to refuse the pills.
"Here, no arguments, I am your Doctor." Sherlock nodded reluctantly, swallowed the pills and set off to the kitchen.
Lestrade jumped up as Sherlock stood in the doorway and told him exactly what he was playing with in the petri dishes. He grimaced and headed for the front door, wiping his hands on his coat even though he hadn't actually touched anything.
Sherlock jumped in the front of the car and looked disappointed to discover that the Sat-Nav wasn't out. He looked at Lestrade, who stared back unimpressed. Sherlock flumped back in his seat and Lestrade smirked slightly, pulling out and driving towards the Docklands.
"Do you really expect to find anything Lestrade?"
"You tell me."
"No, I think it's too soon to discover the pattern and for the mistake to happen. The attacks are too brief." He paused and sniffed. "New aftershave?"
Lestrade swerved slightly. "W-what?"
"You have a date later. You never wear this. Who's the unlucky person?"
"Sherlock." Lestrade muttered warningly.
"Fine, don't tell me. I'll find out tomorrow anyway." Lestrade blushed slightly and focused on driving. John stared at him. He didn't know much about Lestrade, not much at all. He might have to question Sherlock later about him; after all, he had known Lestrade for a few years. Sherlock stared out of the window smirking until they arrived at the scene.
A/N – So, who do we think the date is with? Who don't you want? Who do you want?
Thanks to my great Beta Reader CrypticNymph!
Thanks for reading!