The Meeting
I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story.
D.I. Lestrade was not a patient man. He was the kind of man who liked to get things done quickly and not just done but done well. That flaw in his character was often exploited by the Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes to allow him onto crime scenes and he allowed it. No one could solve a case as fast as Sherlock and they certainly wouldn't be as accurate as the arrogant man tended to be. So even though the man caused a ruckus whenever he was called in the D.I. would grin or grimace really and bear it. But this situation, this case that Lestrade had to admit even a rookie two days out of school and greener than an intern without any training could solve, had him questioning his sanity.
There was an attempted robbery at a small rather expensive café where some people who had family in the army would meet every two weeks or so. The whole thing was paid for by some anonymous benefactor and was filled with valuable easily taken things that would attract thieves. He could see why someone would want to rob the place. But the man who attempted it was a fool as he was seen by everyone in the shop without even bothering to put on a mask. He'd shot off his gun thankfully only hitting the wall, he hadn't worn any gloves, he was locked up in the loo, and really was the dumbest criminal Lestrade had ever seen. So why was Sherlock there standing over Anderson bitter poisonous insults filling the air around him?
"Enough!" Lestrade yelled when his patience finally snapped. "Sherlock what are you doing here?"
"Ingrid invited me!" Sherlock yelled like he did whenever he was pushed past the point of impatience.
Lestrade took a deep breath trying to keep his temper in check. When he felt that he could talk without screaming he went straight to the point. "Who the hell is Ingrid?"
A woman wearing horn rimmed glasses and a floral print dress and flats walked up to him and held out her hand. "That would be me, Ingrid Stricter. Sherlock's been coming to these meetings for some time now." When he didn't shake her hand she straightened her brown hair through the motions did little to help the messy bun.
"Why has Sherlock been coming to these meetings I thought they were only for people with family in the military?" He asked his head beginning to hurt. All he wanted was to go home and have a nice cup of tea.
She looked surprised her eyes widening before she put on a smile that looked off on her face. "His wife is a soldier. He's been here since she was last deployed after I met him in the airport when my husband was deployed. I told him about the meetings and he's been attending regularly ever since."
Lestrade blinked his brain failing to process what he'd just heard before it rebooted and he gave a short sarcastic laugh. "No what's the real reason he's here?"
"His wife is in the army." Ingrid said again firmly.
"He's not married!" Lestrade's hands tangled into his hair and he resisted the urge to pull his hair out. "I've known that man for five years and if he had a wife I am certain would have met her by now!"
Sherlock pulled his wallet out of his coat digging through it until he pulled out a photograph. He handed it to Lestrade and he looked at the picture with disbelief. A woman was sitting on a younger looking Sherlock's lap laughing and the Sherlock in the picture was smiling. It was a real smile too not one of the creepy ones he used around people he was manipulating or trying to creep out. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she seemed genuinely happy. He took a closer look at the picture his eyes nearly popping out of his head as his jaw dropped. Was that Sherlock's hand going up her shirt?
"Yes we were quite passionate at the time. It was our first date." He said with a slight smile that was almost invisible and would be invisible to anyone who didn't know him.
Oh crap he said that out loud! He opened his mouth to speak and save some of his dignity from where it was crying out and dying on the floor. He regretted his decision immediately. "Uh you seem to be acting a bit forward for a first date."
"We'd already seen each other naked so it wasn't that big of a deal. Besides isn't everyone promiscuous these days?" Sherlock said clearly amused with how Lestrade was reacting to this new image that did not fit in with his knowledge of the man.
"How did that happen?" He put up a hand. "Wait don't answer that I don't want to know."
"I was on a case when the suspect threw hydrochloric acid he'd stolen from the chemistry lab on me I needed a shower before the acid could eat through my skin the closest one was in the girl's locker room. John played football in Uni and she'd just gotten out of practice. She picked the wrong shower. I'm sure you can work out what happened next."
Lestrade rubbed his hand down his face. "Let me get this straight you met your wife on a case while you were both naked."
"Yes." Sherlock said with a tone that clearly stated 'I just told you that idiot'.
"I think I need a moment." That was when darkness closed in on his vision and he hit the floor.
I meant to put this in the last chapter but when I went to put it up it slipped my mind but yes this is a series of unconnected one shots. Any chapters that are connected will be clearly labeled as a continuation. As for what happened Sherlock explained everything to John after that unfortunate encounter, it didn't hurt that he had left his clothes in a pile on the floor and acid burns on his chest as proof. When it comes to dates he does not get the concept of personal space or taking it slow. He acts the way he thinks couples act which is limited as he deleted most of that knowledge if it didn't have to do with the Work. But considering that in the show John tried to get together with Sarah on their first date I don't think John would mind too much. So far Lestrade is getting all the love, but I will be focusing on the other characters more but Lestrade's going to be getting shocked the most often. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited.
