If he was told the last 24 hours had lasted several men's lifetimes Lestrade would have believed it. He felt every minute hang on him as he walked toward his small flat. He had a small bag of Chinese cradled against his side, the burning hot tinfoil trays were pressed uncomfortably into him radiating through the paper into his arm and side. He had tried to bring an unwieldy box of files home with him, but Donovan had intervened. He was grateful now as he felt his eyes dropping shut the nearer he got to the door. She had been right of course, the bastard was dead there was no rush unwinding his madness.

He reached the end of the hall and his flat's non descript door. He leant with his forehead pressed in the wood, fumbling in his pockets for his keys. He remembered ending many late nights in the pub in this position, trying to stop the world from tilting long enough to let himself into the flat. How different his life had become and yet so unchanged, he never pictured he would still be coming home to an empty flat so many years later.

He lifted his keys to the deadbolt and felt an immediate rush of adrenaline. The light caught on a tiny scratch on the keyhole. He didn't need Sherlock to tell him it was fresh and made by the delicate tip of lock picking equipment. He silently mimed beating his head into the door at the thought of dealing with Sherlock on no sleep. He grit his teeth and opened the door, the knob turning freely in his hand.

At first glance the apartment appeared as it always did slightly disheveled and sparsely furnished. Lestrade deposited his stack of Chinese on the hall table and walked purposefully towards the living room where a small amount of light was pooling in the hallway.

"What was so bloody important you needed to break into my flat?" Lestrade barged into the room only to have his questions die on the tip of his tongue.

It was not the consulting detective he found in his apartment. Instead Serene was curled up asleep in his armchair. A book was resting on her chest; one of the embarrassing sports biographies people always seemed to give him for Christmas. The only books he owned now that he thought about it, he didn't even have decent reading material to offer her.

What had made his stomach flip and all the blood rush downwards was what she was wearing, in his apartment. She had changed the dress; instead she was in jeans and one of his work shirts. On her feet was a pair of his thick white trainer socks. He immediately felt possessive. She looked like she belonged here, waiting for him to get home, knicking his shirts and socks.

Then he was angry, truly angry. What was she doing here? Presenting such a lovely domestic picture when he knew he could never ever live up to it. He realized as he had been staring and seething Serene had woken up. She was looking at him with her large hazel eyes, only the slight flush about her cheeks and neck made it obvious she had just been sleeping. She closed the book and put it on the coffee table slowly. He was too angry to speak and they stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"I have something to tell you-" Serene started, but the sound of her voice fresh from sleep set something off in Lestrade.

"Do you know breaking and entering is a crime? I could have you arrested."

Serene didn't say anything; she got up from the chair and walked towards him. She stopped just in front of him and held out her wrists.

"I'll go quietly" there is something in her voice half serious, half joking that turns Lestrade's anger into recklessness.

Before he could think about it he had pulled her against him. He always thought he would be gentle and tender; showing her how he worshiped her, pouring all the love he felt and couldn't speak into her. Instead his mouth was closed and his grip was like iron on her waist. The apartment is small; with a few steps he can back her up against a wall. Their bodies collide into it hard and he feels her groan and her fingers claw into his chest. When her mouth opens that last shred of sense evaporates. He groans and he hears her breath hitch. She is pushing back now, her mouth, her tongue, and her teeth matching him.

His mind is racing and he begins to move them towards his bedroom. They stumble back through the open door and Lestrade curses the old laundry under foot. He closes the door, pushing it shut with their bodies.

He feels her push against his chest and he lifts his head from her neck where he had been biting and licking moans from her. He sees her then, her hair wild and her lips red. He has left tiny marks all over her and it makes his head spin. He plunges his head forward to take her mouth again, but is stopped when he feels her palms flat pushing on his shoulders.

"Don't you want to hear why I've come?" Her voice is breathy. She was offering him the chance to stop.

"No. You're under arrest, remember?" It's that reckless feeling that takes hold of him again and moves his knee between her legs, pinning her to the door. He shrugs his suit jacket off and adds it unceremoniously to the laundry on the floor. It is a well practiced almost ingrained motion that he pulls his cuffs from his belt and locks them around her wrists.

She wasn't sure what she had expected from Greg, but the cold metal around her wrists and feeling herself be pushed up with his lean hard body and her hands lifted over her head had caught her completely off guard. When she feels the chain catch on a robe hook on the back of the door, she has never been so aroused in her life.

He began unbuttoning his own shirt from her, he had never thought the rough cotton of a work shirt could be erotic until he was pushing it aside to reveal the soft, olive skin beneath. Serene's head tilted back and her breathing was erratic as Lestrade ran his fingers over the swell of one of her breasts. He had always known Serene to be a passionate woman, but now with her head thrown back and her mouth moving almost soundlessly he thought he had never seen someone so magnificent. He worried about her wrists and the bruises along her body, but she didn't seem to be in pain or even to notice. Her legs were still straddling his thigh and he moved his leg so she could press against him. He returned his mouth to her collarbone as his hands fumbled with the fly of her jeans. Her breath hitched and her mouth moved faster. She seemed to be rambling wildly in French; nonsensical words falling from her mouth. He had rarely heard her speak her native language, except on occasion to curse under her breath, but now it seemed English had escaped her and the throaty desperate words tumbling from her mouth were making his hands shake and his heart hammer against his ribs.

He kissed her mouth to silence her, so his hands could work without the dizzying effect of her voice. He managed at last to free the zipper and push his hands down between the fabric of her jeans and warmth of her flesh. He gripped her like this for a moment kissing her and holding her up. He could hear the rattle of the chain as she tried to lift herself off the hook. He smiled to himself as he raised one hand to pin her wrists to the door and with other he tugged at her jeans. He had to kneel to take them completely off and he found himself at eye level with the silky vee of her panties. He felt a small foot brace on his thigh and he lifted a smooth tan leg onto his shoulder. Allowing her to brace herself against the pressure of the handcuffs. He turned his head and kissed the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. He began kissing his way towards her centre and he felt the muscles in her legs tighten against him. He was just to run a tentative finger around the edge of her underwear when he felt all her muscles contract and the tell tale rattle. He shot up to press her wrists into the door again but he was too late and with surprising grace Serene landed on her feet in front of him.

Serene the tigress was in front of him again and he felt frozen by the heat in her eyes. Her hands working together in the cuffs she began to undress him. He was impressed by her dexterity while restrained. She worked slowly at the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off one shoulder, then the other. He was pale compared to her, all his time spent in London. She stepped closer and found the fly of his trousers. He was silent and he knew his mouth was hanging open, but the feeling of her hands so close to him rendered his brain useless. She managed the zipper and pushed his trousers open. To his shock she didn't try to take them off. Instead she knelt in front of him and looking up into his eyes reached to free him from his pants. He knew what she planned and in his heightened state he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back. With one swift motion he grabbed the chain of her cuffs and pulled her to her feet, he dipped down and caught her over his shoulder.

Serene squealed in shock as he carried her thrown over his shoulder to the bed and dumped her in the centre of his tangled sheets. He grabbed the chain again and looped it over the finial at the head of his bed.

"You're ruining my fun, Gregory." Serene purred at him and he felt nothing but love bubble up in him. He kissed her softly then, holding her face in his hands. He followed the trail of marks he had left on her, kissing each one tenderly. He kicked off his shoes and trousers and lay beside her on the bed. Skin against skin, she felt so soft and warm. He ran his palm over her ribs and down her stomach. He wished he had kept the keys in his pocket; instead they were somewhere in the apartment tossed aside. He swore to himself, this wouldn't be the last time he would see her like this. Next time she would be completely naked under him and he would be gentle and loving.

He lay there touching her, as she was helpless beside him. He traced his finger along her underwear again, this time catching the band and slipping beneath the fabric.

Somewhere deep in the apartment his phone chirruped.

Lestrade froze and Serene sighed. Lestrade couldn't move, he felt like if he moved he would wake up and this would all be a dream. Without the pressure of him on her body Serene unhooked herself from the bedpost. She sat up next to him and kissed his cheek. She left the bed to find her jeans and by some miracle managed to shimmy herself into them still handcuffed.

"Hold on I'll get the keys." Lestrade feels like laughing as he watches inch by inch all her glorious skin disappear under fabric. His phone chirrups again as he pulls on his trousers. He swats her playfully on the ass as he passes. "Do I want to know how you got so good in those?"

He wished he could turn this part off the copper who was always on duty. Serene hadn't said a word about it she had known the call was coming after all. She had come here for a reason before he had thrown them ridiculously off course.

She follows him out into the dimly lit apartment; Lestrade is buttoning his shirt and searching for his keys.

"In the kitchen." Serene offers dropping into the armchair again. Lestrade doesn't even ask how she knows, but they are there sitting next to his cooling take out.

He walks back to her, keys and takeaway in hand. He feels sheepish as he unlocks her. It had all felt so suave and dangerous in the moment, but now that they were both dressed and in the living room he felt silly.

Once freed from her restraints Serene pounces on the cartons. He loves this about her; the way she eats with enthusiasm. He remembers going to dinner with Katherine, watching her pick away at limp salads not letting herself enjoy anything. In his own stunted imagination he thought all women were the same in this regard; he had be irrationally aroused the first time he had split a curry with Serene. It had been a late night at the office and the contents of the tinfoil trays bobbed with grease, he was prepared for pouting or bird like picking at the globs of fatty meat and peas. Instead Serene had tucked in, groaning with delight. He could have kissed her when she wiped a tray out with naan. He feels her squeeze in beside him on the sofa and he realizes he has been staring; his phone gripped in his hand like a talisman.

"Why do I feel like you know what this message is going to say?"

Serene shakes her head and fishes around in the stir-fry with a fork. She nods at the handcuffs on the table "I can't say anything without my lawyer present." She offers him a forkful of broccoli and bean sauce; he lets her pop it into his mouth.

With a sigh Lestrade opens the message on his phone.

COME TO BAKER STREET. SH

That was it, a summons from Sherlock Holmes. He had stopped the most invigorating encounter of his life for a text from Sherlock bleeding Holmes. He turns the phone to Serene and she leans in to read the message. She nods understandingly and stands up with her stir-fry. Lestrade catches her by the hand,

"Where do you think you are going?"

"I am coming with you to Baker street" Serene says matter-of-factly. Lestrade smiles his wolfish grin and tugs her down onto his lap. He quickly puts her carton on the crowded coffee table as he begins to roll her underneath him.

"Who says I am going to Baker Street?" He says in a low voice as his hands find his way to the buttons of his work shirt again. Serene laughs a short, heady laugh as she tries to refasten the buttons as he works his way down his stolen shirt. He bats away her hands with one of his; the other hand insistently working its way down the buttons. He is successful enough to reveal the smooth curve of her throat and sternum. She rolls her head back as she feels him lean into her. His stubble makes her skin tingle and he is gentle and warm as he kisses her throat. She was unprepared for how loving he is, even in the heat of their earlier exchange. She feels his hands move up under the shirt, caressing the skin above her jeans, before smoothing down to the top of her fly. Her head tells her this won't last and interruption is coming but her body screams for the satisfaction denied it earlier.

She takes his hands away from her jeans and pulls them over her head; he is off balance and collapses on top of her. He laughs and adjusts them so he is not crushing her; it feels so good stretched against each other, she could stay like this forever. She wishes her thoughts would quiet and let her enjoy this moment, but nothing has ever cut off the constant stream of words. Even sex had a constant buzz of observations and feelings run through it. Greg didn't quiet her mind he set it on fire.

Lestrade felt Serene slip away from him; he knew she was thinking about everything. The situation, the timing, the future and the case formed a tangled string in her mind. He knew her well enough, every look and movement in her face, this wasn't a "no" or even a pulling away from him. He felt her hands clenching his above her head, but her movements lacked focus; she ground her hips against his in a way that pushed him closer and closer to the edge. This however was Serene chasing down a thought; he had seen her do this so many times before. He relaxed against her, let go of her hands; stroked her face and hair.

Serene had been thinking about Lestrade's flat; how neither of them really had a home in London. Greg had left his home behind when his wife had left, while Serene always felt like she had stolen her home from Graham. Maybe that's what had drawn them together their unsatisfying home life. She felt it ran deeper than that, in a way she was totally unaccustomed to, they understood each other. She could still feel his weight on top of her, pinning her to the couch. However his kisses had stopped, her hands were empty and instead she felt the soothing pressure of someone stroking her hair. She felt her eyes focus on Greg's handsome face as he watched her. She felt very exposed realizing how distracted she had become. Her eyes focused on him and his hand paused stroking her hair.

"Hello there." Greg whispered softly to her, pressing his forehead against hers. She felt a rush of emotion when she realized he had been waiting for her; she felt like crying. It was embarrassment, frustration and an overwhelming affection forming a lump in her throat; she didn't think she could bear his kindness. She lifted herself against him and kissed him, her hands balling his shirt and her leg hooking around his pulling him against him. She wanted to drown the rushing feeling moving from the back of her throat to her toes. She feels his muscles tighten against her, resisting her urging kisses. She feels his hands brushing her hair, his mouth trying to slow her down. She begins to move her hands between their bodies, her palm smoothing down his stomach towards his belt.

Lestrade groans as he feels her hand deftly slide beneath his trousers, her frantic energy worries him. He wants nothing more than to push her legs open and sink into her, to feel nails dig into his shoulders as he brings them both to their climaxes. He can't though; he can't let her give in to whatever emotion is driving this passion. Her hand is stroking him and her teeth are biting her way down his jaw, he feels himself leaning into her. It's like being a teenager all over again; the nerves building inside him, the desperation to be allowed further, sweat as he grinds their fully clothed bodies together. It seems like a blessing when his phone chirrups again, no amount of chivalry or respect could have made him stop. She was skilled and he felt oafish in comparison. He hadn't been with anyone in years; her movements were so natural and experienced.

Serene felt Greg move away from her and she slid her hand out of from between them. He had felt so solid beneath her fingers, his muscles tensing as he instinctively pushed into her. The need to cry had abated and instead she felt the growing heat of desire overwhelming the cold sting. Now his phone was chirruping and he was moving away from her.

Lestrade reaches for the phone he knows what to expect. He is not disappointed by Sherlock's terse response.

Urgent! SH

Lestrade sighs and straightens up. "Alright, I give. Come along."

For the second time tonight Serene is buttoning her shirt and sorting herself out. She feels hot and frustrated. Greg looks similarly distracted and she wonders what comes next for them. As they are heading out the door her own phone buzzes and she pauses to check the screen.

"What, is he texting you now?" Lestrade sounds frustrated as he locks the door behind them. Serene feels frozen staring at her phone. It had been an email; it was from her apartment building or more accurately the automated security system in her building. The subject line was 'welcome home'.

As she was the only one who used the apartment who was 'on the grid' all the building emails came to her, this one was sent because someone had used the iris scan for the first time in a very long time. Graham. It could only mean Graham was home.

"Are you coming?" Greg looks eager to leave, his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets he is staring at her. Serene feels like she can barely breathe let alone talk.

"No, no I am not." Serene tries to affect nonchalance as she tucks the phone into her pocket and kisses Greg on the cheek. "I have to go, work needs me. You go."

And with that she turns and practically flees the apartment building.