A/N: This chapter has been updated as of July 21, 2015. After staring at my traffic stats this seemed to be a point I was losing people; I'd be interested to hear reviews why this chapter specifically seems to be unpalatable. Hopefully the edit helped. Thank you to all the people who have been reading.
It had been a long night after Sherlock left her standing in the middle of the living room, her arms and legs aching. She had stood there until the blood started flowing to her fingers and toes again. There hadn't been much else to do but go to bed.
The bed was too big, but she had only ever slept in it alone. It never really felt like her bed to defile, the fact she had tried to seduce Sherlock here told her everything she needed to know about how serious she had been. In a way failure had been a relief. So she slept curled up with the ridiculous silk sheet pulled up over her head. Her phone had been tucked up against her. She had waited all night it seemed for Gregory to text or call her. Insist he was coming over, or wanting to hear from her own lips she was okay. She had fallen asleep waiting and her phone was mockingly empty when she woke up.
Had his ego really been so bruised by her leaving with Sherlock? She had thought him more sensible than that, never ashamed to ask for help or accept it. Had Sherlock told him of their fleeting moments out on the balcony? That seemed the most unlikely of all of the options.
Therefore it was an angry and hurt Serene who had readied herself that morning. DI Lestrade would rue the day he had neglected to text her after she had nearly died in an alley for him. That morning, sunlight streaming into an opulent bedroom, found Serene zipping herself into her battle dress, someone was going to lose their head. She spent an embarrassing amount of time perfecting her hair and make up; she had debated how thoroughly to cover up the bruising. In the end she looped a scarf around her neck.
Sunshine beamed against the glass of her building. She looked up at her balcony as she ducked into the long black service car in front of her building and saw the scotch glass glinting back at her. She smiled as she remembered that part of the evening, poor Sherlock she shouldn't toy with him like that. She knew deep down that he would understand, a benefit of the analytical mind.
She had the car stop just down the street from Scotland Yard, outside a small coffee shop. She was about to put Gregory in a mood and she owed Donovan a coffee, at least.
The coffee smelled dark and sweet as she crossed the floor towards Donovan's desk. She could see the sergeant's curly head bent over a report. Serene smiled she liked Sally a lot. People might call her abrasive, but Serene knew that sometimes rubbing people the wrong way was the only way to get where you wanted to be. She knew more than one department chair would describe her that way.
Sally's desk was tucked well away from Greg's office; Serene was confident she could have this moment in peace. Her heels clicked on the tile as she slipped to the side of Donovan's desk. She placed the tray of coffee down on an empty square of desk and tried to make her smile carefree. She didn't want Sally to feel like a go-between for two fighting lovers. Donovan's eyes went to the coffee first, looking up at Serene.
"Well the Doctor is in." Donovan smiled. She looked tired.
"I figured you had more than earned a coffee.' Serene turned the face of the cup towards Donovan displaying the high-end shop's logo. 'Was it a late night?"
Donovan reached for the coffee in her direct way. "You owe me something stronger than coffee, leaving me to deal with him.' She takes a sip and her eyes momentarily flick up with appreciation. 'Although this is an excellent start."
"Was he hell?"
"He's worse this morning. What was it like having Freak follow you home?"
"Silent"
"That's a miracle." Serene has to laugh, if only she could tell Donovan that the man she called 'Freak' nearly had her on a balcony. Somehow she didn't think it would be as funny to her.
"Are you going in to see him?" Donovan's eyes look behind Serene to the hallway that leads to Greg's office.
"I have got one more coffee left."
"Leave it here. I am sure I will need it more than him."
Serene lifts the tray off the desk carefully, with her other hand she slips the pastry in the crinkly brown bag she had been holding surreptitiously at her side. She whirls away quickly, wanting to keep the fire in her burning before she reaches Greg, she doesn't want to be nice to him. She can hear the bag crinkle over the sound of her heels on the tile.
"Give him hell, Doc" Sally calls after her, croissant halfway to her mouth.
The door frame into Greg's office is windowed and she can see him bent over his paperwork. His door is slightly ajar and she slips in. He has heard her heels and not looked up.
"I told you Sergeant, I don't want to be disturbed-' He looks up then and his mouth is stopped, slightly open.
Lestrade had not been ready to see her yet, he felt gritty and tired. There she was though, leaning against his now closed door. He had not seen Serene in her full form since the Gala. She had become part of his late evenings and early mornings; barely any make up, her hair carelessly swept up and sometimes when he had been lucky her adorable clunky glasses. She was his geek, but always underneath the surface was what she could be if she needed. Serene the tigress was looking at him now, and he became very aware that he hadn't shaved this morning.
"Good morning DI Lestrade.' She stalks towards him and he can only watch her come closer. She casually comes behind his desk and leans her hip on the edge. She can feel the whisper of gabardine barely touching her knee. She is in his space now. She had discarded the coffee tray somewhere between Donovan and Lestrade. She sets the single coffee down on his desk, deftly taking his cold takeaway coffee and dropping it in his bin. 'I figured you could use a coffee."
Serene had never put herself on display for him like this before. He felt his mouth go dry and all he could think about was the way her tongue had traced a searing hot line along his ear last night. He instinctively pulled his ear, trying to exorcise the memory Serene smiles at him as if reading his mind. She gets up and he is left smoothing his shirt and nodding.
"Ah yes, thank you." He awkwardly picks up the coffee and takes a sip. It is good coffee, perfectly doctored and still hot, which was more than could be said about one in the bin.
"Oh yes' Serene pauses her back facing him, the exposed vee of flesh, the pert curve of her bum being hugged by flecked grey of her dress. 'I believe Anderson said these were central to the case."
With a quick flick of her wrist she drops a pair of black panties on the paperwork spread out on his desk. Lestrade nearly chokes on his coffee. He felt half-mad, it was such a relief to see her, but her underwear was sitting on his desk as if he had pulled them off her.
He doesn't know how he moved so quickly without tripping himself, but he made it to the door just as Serene had begun to pull it open. He pushes it shut, and Serene is between him and the door. He can smell her perfume and see the bandages on her wrists. He feels so many things it is like he is being pulled apart. Serene's head is down and she is waiting for him. He can barely see her neck, but he wants to know how badly it is bruised.
Serene could feel the heat of Lestrade on her back, he was close. She didn't know how long they would stand like this. A reckless feeling creeps up her spine and she gives in to it. She flicks the deadbolt, locking them in the office. She can hear Lestrade breathe in sharply, but he does not unlock the door. Instead she feels the tips of his fingers brush her neck, pulling down her scarf.
She turns to face him, leaning against the door. His hands gently unwind the scarf from her neck. His one hand clutches the thin cotton of the scarf while the other tilts her chin up so he can see the extent of the bruising.
The feeling of his fingers brushing her skin while he unwinds the scarf makes his heartbeat hard against his chest. It didn't help as he pulled it away from her neck he felt the soft cotton slither over the tops of her breasts. This dress was driving him around the bend; it seemed perfectly constructed to display a woman.
The bruising had subsided a bit, small ovals of purple where the bastard's thumbs had been, smudges that were his fingers. He can feel her pulse where his fingers are holding her head. If he were Sherlock this might tell him something, but the only thing he knows is it means she is alive. He traces a line down her throat with his fingers. Her eyes haven't left his face and he can see her tongue caressing the edge of her teeth.
"You should have gone to the hospital. This kind of injury it can be unpredictable." His voice is full of concern.
"I'm fine, still alive-' Serene takes his hand from the base of her throat, sliding it the centimeters down so the palm of his hand covers the swell of her left breast. '-See still beating."
Lestrade wonders if he will black out he feels the blood rush so quickly from his head to his groin. He had held her last night, but somehow in his office at 9 in the morning it felt like an unbelievable transgression. As much as he would love to press his body against her right now, he knows it is better to step away.
He coughs and retreats, Serene stays leaning against the door and it makes him feel like a coward. She laughs, and he feels it settle somewhere below his stomach. He knows he should cover himself behind the desk as his profile becomes more and more unprofessional. He wonders if he will ever get this woman out of his blood, even if he were to take her on the desk he feels like it would only fan the flames rather than quiet them.
Serene watches Lestrade sit himself at his desk, pulling his chair in farther than she had ever seen him. Normally he is relaxed in here, treating it as his kingdom feet on the desk. Once at 2am he wandered around in bare feet with his sleeves rolled up. He said it would keep him awake. She smiles at the memory and sits on the other side of his desk.
"We-ah- these aren't necessary. Anderson is a git." Lestrade gestures awkwardly to her underwear on the center of his paperwork. Serene opens her hands for them but barely extends her arm, Lestrade glances down at the underwear and back at her before realizing what she is going to make him do. He holds them awkwardly as he half stands half leans over the desk so he can drop them in her hand.
"Thank you." Serene dumps her panties unceremoniously into her bag and walks around to look at the paperwork from his side. "So where are we in the case?"
"You are nowhere. You're a victim now, you can't stay on."
"If I was an undercover officer, I would."
"No if you had been an undercover officer I would have sent you to the hospital, even if I had the strap you to the gurney myself."
"Is that what I missed last night?" She pulls the scarf he had forgotten he was gripping slowly out of his hand. He feels the fabric unwind and swallows hard.
Serene walks away from the desk and wraps the scarf around her neck once again, smoothing her dress down with her hands. Lestrade's eyes follow her hands as she tidies herself.
"I was wrong, it's not over." Serene's voice is barely a whisper, but her words pull him back to reality.
"What's not over?"
Serene collects her handbag from the chair she dropped it on. "The murders, he'll kill again. Might be months, but all of a sudden it will happen again."
"I killed him, Serene. There is a bullet in him and he is on a slab in St. Bart's." He gets up from his chair frustrated, getting in her space. "That's it; I am taking you to the hospital. You have obviously gone barmy."
He tries to take her by the arm, but she stalls him by stepping close to him and fiddling with his lapel. His grip softens on her arm; he runs his palm up to her shoulder, moving his hand to her face. He holds her face in his hand, his thumb tracing her jaw. She leans into his hand, tiny lightning bolts wherever his skin touches.
He closes the distance between them; he is close enough to kiss her. She feels her heart beat harder and her lips part instinctively. Instead he presses his forehead against her temple, a loving, tender gesture that makes her feel guilty for toying with him.
"Please, Serene, please."
She steps away from their embrace, her insides screaming in protest at the distance. She hadn't been prepared for him to question her conclusion. In hindsight she should have seen it coming. Lestrade had killed a man last night and if there was an accomplice he had silenced their best chance at finding him. He was trying to protect her now, but it was too late she was caught up in the chase. She needed to play outside the rules if she was going to finish what she had started last night. There was only one man who would give her that chance and it wasn't the detective inspector.
"Remember Gregory, I came to you first."
She lifts her bag onto her shoulder, freeing the trapped tail of her scarf. She walks to the door and unlocks it.
"Where are you going?"
"To see Sherlock Holmes."
Serene slips outside the door and Lestrade is left alone in his office. He exhales his frustration into the hand rubbing across his face.