Disclaimerthing: I don't own the characters etc.
No Promises
Lestrade knew. He couldn't, but he did.
Sherlock hadn't said a word, of course. That had been the first clue.
He had been pacing up and down his apartment, occupying hIs kitchen table with all kinds of chemicals he did not want to know more about thank you very much, reading Moriarty's file again and again, and on top of that, he called Mycroft four times.
Called. Mycroft. Four bloody times.
Speaking in French, obviously, much to Lestrade's dismay. Not that it mattered; he could still figure out most of the conversation reading Sherlock's face, voice and the way his shoulders stiffened every now and then.
And of course 'Moriarty' could hardly be a French verb, now could it…
After that, Sherlock had suddenly gone quiet. He had sat down for fifteen full minutes of wordless scribbling on a worn copy of London's city map, before he stood up, looked at Lestrade, screwed up the map, and headed for the door without a word.
No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't be this stupid, this reckless, careless. He knew better. He should bloody well know better. Lestrade felt a familiar fear rise in his stomach and marched towards the door as well.
He grabbed a fistful of the grey coat already brushing past him.
"You can't," he said, the words tumbling from his lips, not even sounding half as angry as had felt them burning on his tongue.
Sherlock stopped, turned on his heels and stared at him, his face blank but the grey eyes almost pleading. "Promise me you won't come after me."
He shook his head, anger flaring up in his chest, then mixing with the toxic cocktail of worry and love at the sight of the younger man.
"Then promise me you won't go and let him kill you."
He tried not to make it sound like a plea. Pleading wouldn't work on Sherlock. He grabbed the bony shoulders, forcing the man to look him in the eye.
"Promise me!" he barked.
Confusion and fear flashed over Sherlock's face. He then merely closed his eyes, grabbed Lestrade's wrists and rested his forehead against his own.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
A heartbeat, then he was gone.
Thank you for reading, I loved writing this.
And, of course, thanks to the wonderful reviewers, and Sidney Sussex, Rae666 and L'Estrade for betareading!