Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
"What are these for?" Sherlock lifts the box of pastel-colored candies to his eyes, scrutinizing it with a furrowed brow. "A case? Did someone leave a note made out of conversation hearts?"
Lestrade rolls his eyes, settling into one of the chairs in the living room of 221B. "Can't give one of my mates a Valentine's day gift? I gave them to the rest of the Yard, thought you might like one too."
Sherlock immediately turns his attention to Lestrade, eyes flicking over his unrumpled jacket and relatively clean shoes. "Why are you lying?"
Lestrade flushes slightly, though he keeps his face impassive. "What?"
"You haven't been to the yard. There's no mud on your shoes and it's raining today, which means you drove straight here. And you don't work today."
Lestrade's lips part indignantly, then he catches himself – of course Sherlock would have snooped through the calendar on his phone. Sherlock continues on.
"So why bring these to me? Were they for your wife? Is she threatening to leave again? I honestly don't see why you would come here. As I've been informed time and time again, I'm the furthest thing from a counselor there is."
"We've been divorced for three months, Sherlock," Lestrade says wearily, raising his bare left hand for Sherlock to see. "Thought you might have noticed."
Sherlock arches an eyebrow, then looks rapidly between the pink box in his hands, Lestrade's ringless finger, and the DI's rapidly darkening face. His lips circle into an "oh" of realization, and he clears his throat roughly.
"I… don't know what to say."
Lestrade scoffs softly, staring pointedly at the frayed carpet. "That's new." He shakes his head softly, rising slowly from the chair. "Sorry. I'll go."
As he turns and begins to step towards the door Lestrade hears the rustling of a cardboard box being opened, then a very soft intake of breath. "Kiss me."
Lestrade stops dead in his tracks, turning around and blinking in disbelief. Sherlock is holding up a powder-blue heart, eyes locking onto the DI's. "It says 'kiss me.' You'd better listen, Greg; you gave them to me, after all." When Lestrade simply stands there, still blinking owlishly, Sherlock sighs and lifts from his seat, popping the confection into his mouth as he crosses over to DI, seizes him by his collar, and promptly drops his lips onto the older man's mouth.
When Lestrade's lips part in a small gasp of surprise Sherlock deposits the candy into his mouth with the barest invasion of his tongue, at which point Lestrade finally comes to his senses, realizing that yes, this is happening, and grips the back of Sherlock's neck. Lestrade tucks his tongue tentatively against Sherlock's, trapping the candy against both of their taste buds; they stand there for the five minutes it takes them to disintegrate the sugar, and for another minute afterwards.
When they finally part Lestrade is somewhat dazed, and Sherlock's lips are blushing faintly red. The DI circles his arms around Sherlock's waist, waiting until he can speak to meet his eyes again.
"Sorry. I'm a rubbish Valentine. I know you would have preferred a murder."
Sherlock chuckles, dropping his forehead gently against Lestrade's and closing his eyes. "I think I can forgive you."
Quick note, chapter 4 of Hands is currently being worked on by a beta, and shall be up shortly.