A/N I feel a little silly posting this chapter, I haven't quite adjusted to the idea of writing smut for people to read. You'd think I would be desensitized by this point given the number of hours I've spent reading M-rated Sherlolly. I've had a lovely review since the last chapter and some new followers. All of which is very appreciated, thank you for sticking with me.

Lestrade had been distracted all day torn between this not-quite a case with Sherlock and thoughts of Serene. The image of Serene, mostly naked, clung to him in embarrassing detail during conversations with department heads and desk sergeants. All day he had deleted half written texts and hovered his thumb over her contact name. He wanted to hear from her, to know everything was okay between them. If he was honest he wanted to beg forgiveness for being inadequate, for having nothing to offer her than an aging investigator consumed by his work and at the mercy of the man whose brilliance he feared as much as he coveted it. He had been ignoring Sherlock all day. Everything the consulting detective had said seemed possible, at midnight standing in Sherlock's flat, but now with the paperwork in front of him everything had faded to impenetrable grey.

He had been to see Molly Hooper about the autopsies; she had awkwardly danced around the topic of Sherlock's visit. Lestrade's pulse had rushed in his ears when she had asked whether "Sherlock's Girlfriend" had recovered. Molly had looked so relieved when Lestrade had said Dr. Laurent was only a fellow consultant on the case.

She had seemed mildly confused when he had inquired about the blood tests. Of course Sherlock had been fibbing, but what the git failed to appreciate is now Lestrade had nothing on which to base any further investigation. He had ordered them of course, but now there was nothing he could do but paw through paperwork until the wee hours and hope that the two people on whom he had relied so thoroughly the last couple years were wrong. His eyes burned, but he was glued to his chair. He didn't want to go home where his sheets smelled like Serene. The book she had been reading was still open on his coffee table and the cushions on his couch were rumpled and strewn about. She had been in his apartment for all of 30 minutes and she had turned his life upside down.

The door clicked shut and Serene was standing in front of him as if she had been plucked from his imagination. Well not entirely from his imagination; the Serene in his imagination was flushed, her hair wild and she was mostly naked. Serene as she was now looked pale and tired, her old oxford shirt hung off her and the sleeves were rolled to her elbow. She was wearing a scarf again. She leaned against the door in silence, her eyes focused on the ground in front of her, and her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Lestrade willed his body to move, he felt like lead as he looked at her. He felt guilt trickle down his body and settle below his stomach; this was the result of their involvement, cuts and bruises. She looked scared and he didn't know what to do.

Serene, after leaving Graham had tried desperately to let go of the events of the last few days. She had taken her work back to her office and had tried to organize her thoughts while tucking away specimens. She had emails from graduate students to answer and a new lecture to compose. Nothing held her attention for long. Foremost in her thoughts was an aching longing to see Greg. Unable to resist any longer she had come to his office knowing he would be here. Now standing in front of him she wondered what she could even say. Her every action since the alley had been a betrayal to him; stealing from the evidence locker, hiding away Britian's most wanted in her flat, even something as silly as flirting with Sherlock Holmes. She didn't deserve his devotion no more than she was able to deny him. She stared at him and willed him to know all of her sins, to ask her point blank to admit to every transgression against him. Instead he looked at her as lost as she felt.

Somehow they met in front of his desk Lestrade a block of lead leaning on the edge of the press board and Serene floating miles above him. He took her hand in his, their palms facing the ceiling. Gently with his other hand he ran his knuckles down her arm, ghosting over the cuts and bruises and brushing the soft skin in between. Serene, her eyes focused on the third button of his shirt, shivered and her breath hitched in the back of her throat like a sob. Lestrade's heart was hammering against his chest and he felt himself weigh on the desk more heavily. He felt disturbed being so aroused by her vulnerability, to the way she responded to his touch, but the aching inside him told him to push forward, that this was solace for them both.

Greg's hand felt so warm over hers, his touch made her feel like a raw nerve somewhere between laughing and sobbing. His thumb began making deliberate circles in the palm of her hand, every once in awhile it would break away slowly tracing between her fingers. She closed her eyes and focused on the intensely intimate sensation of his thumb moving between her fingers. Her breathing grew shallow and the warm liquid sensation of arousal began to pool beneath her stomach, just her hand in his and she felt herself threatening to shake apart.

When his hand slipped up to circle her wrist she felt herself completely in his control, she gave herself, eyes closed, to whatever Greg's strong, purposeful hands asked of her. She felt the pressure on her wrist of him drawing her closer and she let herself be guided against him, between the two sturdy masts of his legs.

Lestrade wanted Serene to open her eyes, he wanted to know she had persevered through the insanity of the last few days. He cradled her face and he felt her leaning into his palm. He stood and turned them, settling her against the desk. He placed his hands over hers.

"Keep still." He whispered into her hair. Serene nodded her eyes fluttering briefly to look at him.

Lestrade walked to door locking it and closing the blinds to his little window. He returned to Serene looking small on his desk. Reaching behind her he clicked the desk lamp off completing the darkness. They weren't entirely alone in Scotland Yard, it was a 24-hour sort of operation, but with the door locked and the lights off they would be alone enough.

Now wasn't the time for conversation in this strange half world where they were floating; not quite lovers, the case not quite closed. In the darkness he could hear her breathing, soft and shallow.

He felt her hands on his chest, picking at his top button. He took them in his own and placed them on the desk again.

"Keep still." He repeated himself, and Serene's breath hitched. Serene gripped the edge of the desk, willing her hands to stay in place. She trusted him and she always had trusted him, but the events of the last few days had deepened that trust, changed it from the theoretical to something tested. He had killed for her, and she knew that would weigh on him.

Lestrade didn't have a clear picture of how this night would go; his office wasn't conducive to any sort of lovemaking. The chairs were narrow, the carpet was probably filthy and frankly he didn't trust his desk to take the weight of his files. He was forcing himself to go slow, to think this through. He pulled the scarf from her neck, dropping it on the desk and kissed the stained flesh from her ear to her collarbone. The smell of her perfume faded from the day mixing in with her sweat made him ache for her. His hands were clumsy as they slowly worked the buttons of her shirt. He managed and his hands slipped under the fabric caressing her sides, holding her as his mouth returned to her neck.

"This is no substitute for talking, Greg." Serene's voice was throaty and low, it caught him somewhere in his chest. He answers her softly, his voice a whisper in her ear.

"I can't talk with you about the case, it's a conflict of interest to even be here with you."

Serene moves her hands over his; she holds them over her heart. "Should I leave?"

"I told you to keep still." Serene laughs as Greg returns her hands to the desk rubbing his stubble into the crook of her neck.

"Why would you want that?"

Greg cups her chin in his hand looking down at her with a crooked smile. "I am desperately trying to plot out a way to make love to you without breaking myself or the desk. And I can't have any distractions." He kisses her lips to punctuate each sentence. Serene smiles, she had pictured them in this office many times. It felt right that this would be how they finally let go together, but stillness did not come naturally to her and as Greg touched and kissed her it became an impossible task. She slipped off her shoes.

"Detective Inspector, you have underestimated how distracting I can be with my hands on the desk."

Serene slid her leg between his, rubbing against him, her foot flexing. Lestrade groans and steps even closer to her. She stands, pushing against him, enjoying the intrinsic sensual feeling of two bodies being pressed against each other. She turns her head to him; she kisses along his jaw line before quickly sucking his earlobe letting him feel her teeth. Lestrade's hands grab her roughly by the hips pulling her against him, grinding himself into her. She bites his ear and she is rewarded as his hands tighten and he swears under his breath. "Besides, desperation is the mother of invention."

Lestrade pushes her open shirt off of her exposing her shoulders to his teeth. He mutters into her shoulder "You'll find necessity is the mother."

Serene revels in the feeling of her naked skin against the smooth fabric of his suit, the rebel in her deeply satisfied by the forbidden nature of their tryst. She turns around, trapped between the desk and his body; she leans against him as she undoes the buttons on her jeans. She bends slightly shoving the denim down her legs, pressing her backside into his groin.

"Whoever, il à peu d'importance"

"God help me if you keep that French up."

Serene looks over her shoulder at him, her nose wrinkles. "I am French."

Lestrade runs a finger down her spine, making her shiver. His hands move around her waist pulling her against him, he slips his hand lower under the blue lace of her knickers. Serene hums with pleasure, raising her arms to wrap around his neck her hand running through his short-cropped hair. They stand there wrapped around each other savouring the feeling of the other. Serene wished she could live in this moment, delightfully on the edge of orgasm with nothing but Lestrade in the darkness.

They are interrupted by the thrum of a vibrating phone, illuminating the darkness from Lestrade's desk. Lestrade releases her, frozen in the light of his mobile with his hands on her hips. Serene turns in his arms to face him, she kisses him gently.

"What is it?" Her voice is barely a whisper and her heart feels as if it wants to beat out of her chest. Greg's focus is so thoroughly fixated on his mobile; she knows there are only a handful of people who would deserve such a reaction. Sherlock wouldn't call; it was too late for one of his superiors. Leaving only one viable option, the most inopportune disturbance.

Lestrade looks away from the phone as the vibration dies off, he hangs his head.

"That's- that's Kath's ringer." Lestrade hates the way her pet name comes so easily to his lips, he hates the way he immediately feels awash in betrayal and worse guilt when he hears his mobile. How many times had she done this to him, been wrapped around another man in the dark while he rang through to her voicemail? It was different of course he was divorced now. Why was she calling? Why now of all times?

While he was transfixed watching the voicemail notification pop up on his screen Serene had pulled her jeans up and shrugged back into her shirt. She takes his hand and he looks into her warm understanding eyes, taking in her sad smile. To his shock and undeniable arousal she pops his fingers into her mouth and sucks the taste of herself from him. She kisses his cheek as to his unending frustration his phone lights up again.

"Answer it." Serene takes the mobile and hands it to him. She looks away as he picks up the call.

"What is it?" Lestrade practically barks into the phone. There is a pause while she answers. "Well then call the police- yes right I know, Kath, but it isn't my division. Call the locals. - Kath? Katherine?"

Lestrade looks at his phone in confusion. The call was still ticking up minutes, but he could no longer hear her. "Katherine?" He shouts down the phone one more time in desperation.

Serene looks shocked. "What's happening?"

"I don't know I have to- I need to go." Greg falls into his officer's gait. He walks purposefully to his coat, shrugging into it as he dials the phone. "Yes, hello Detective Inspector Lestrade I am going to give you an address I need you to send a car immediately-"

He walks over to Serene as the desk sergeant shuffles papers on the other end of the phone. He presses a kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry later, I promise."

He leaves Serene alone in the dark as he gives his ex-wife's address to the sergeant on the phone.