John was sitting in his office eating a bland pad thai and was frustrated as all hell because he wasn't even aware that pad thai could be bland when he heard a sharp knock.
"Come in." He said taking a sip of water to clear the taste from his mouth.
"Dr. Watson?" The man said with a slight smile.
"Yes?" John asked. "Can I help you?"
"My name's Mark." He said. "Mark Morstan."
"You're the new doctor." John said waving at a chair. "Have a seat."
"Thank you." Mark said with a grin causing his dimple on his right cheek to show briefly. "I was just introducing myself to everyone in the lunch room and they told me you usually eat lunch in your office."
"Yeah," John said with a slight grimace. "That makes me sound like an asocial prick."
"Hardly." Mark said. "I'm crap at small talk. I never know what to say."
"Well, you're doing admirably so far." John said.
"Thank you, Doctor Watson." He smirked.
"Please, call me John."
"I will."
"Great. Do you like the facility so far?"
"I do. Everyone seems great, but the lunch choices in the machines are wretched."
"They are at that." John grinned. "But I haven't fared much better today. Worst pad thai I've ever eaten."
"We should remedy that." Mark said happily. "How much time do you have left on your break?"
"About forty-five minutes." John answered.
"Alright then." Mark said with a conspiratorially grin. "Let's go. There has to be a good restaurant near here."
"You want to go to lunch?" John asked.
"Of course, John." He answered. "Are you coming? It could be delicious."
John felt a strange feeling seeping through his body but shoved it aside as he grabbed his jacket and followed his new colleague to grab some lunch.
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"You should wear a bloody nametag." Lestrade said tiredly at the woman perched on one of the chairs in front of his desk typing on her blackberry. "I never know what to call you."
"It's Lucy, today." She shrugged.
"What can I do for you, Lucy?" He asked.
"Mr. Holmes just wanted to finalize plans for this evening and he asked that I deliver this as well." She said gesturing to the box perched on the chair next to her.
"Dinner at 8p is fine. What is it?" He asked hesitantly.
"That's really none of my business, sir." She shrugged before getting up and making her way toward the door.
"Thank you." Lestrade called after her.
He opened the box curiously and let out a slight chuckle at the contents. They'd only technically been seeing each other for a few months but it had developed quickly into something comfortable and regular. The fact that Mycroft had gone through the trouble of getting him an overnight bag was a bit flattering actually. He'd been carting clothing back and forth in a bedraggled bag he still had from Uni. He'd tried several times to convince Mycroft that he didn't actually have to buy him gifts, but the look on Mycroft's face when he tried to give them back was heart-wrenching. So, he'd just decided to accept them as gracefully as he could and smirk because inevitably each gift was a subtle commentary on what Mycroft thought he didn't have but very much needed in his life. The nose hair trimmer three weeks in had caused a long discussion and an apology tiramisu. He was just about to power on his computer and get to work when his mobile dinged.
Help. SH
Lestrade felt his blood run cold at the simple message. In the almost two years that he'd been working as Sherlock's babysitter, the genius had never once asked for his help. He quickly dialed the appropriate code that would be sent to Mycroft and immediately checked the coordinates of Sherlock's last traceable signal. At least he was still in Scotland. Lestrade grabbed his emergency bag and headed for the exit just as a black car pulled around in front of his building. The drive was tense and he spent the time texting Mycroft and attempting to get a hold of Sherlock. He called John to cancel their pub meeting the next evening and felt guilt twist his insides at the obvious concern in the doctor's voice. He arrived several hours later and was dropped off outside a dingy little shopping center in a shady part of town. Walking quickly through the empty halls, he heard a small moan just under a set of stairs. Running the rest of the way, he dropped next to Sherlock's pale form and did a quick check of his vitals.
"I can't walk." Sherlock whispered painfully. "Broke something, I think. Moran got away."
"Just stay quiet," Lestrade scolded. "Why didn't you call an ambulance?"
"Phone died." Sherlock shrugged. "I was just able to get that text to you before it shut down."
"Idiot." Lestrade said dialing for an ambulance himself. "Don't you keep the thing charged?"
"No time." Sherlock grimaced. "There was just this one chance. Had to take it."
"Alright," Lestrade said. "Just try to relax until the paramedics get here."
It didn't take more than five minutes for the ambulance to show up and Lestrade rode in the back with Sherlock as he was given pain meds. He hadn't actually broken anything but there was quite a gash on the side of his leg that needed cleaning and stitches. They got him cleaned up and put in a small room to recuperate. Sherlock was still pretty doped up when he went back to see him.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Lestrade asked quietly.
"No. Where's John? I need to talk to him." Sherlock said woozily.
"Sherlock…" Lestrade began. "John's not coming."
"Of course he's coming." Sherlock scoffed. "He has to come."
"Why's that?" Lestrade asked hesitantly.
"Because I need him to." Sherlock mumbled.
"He's not your pet, Sherlock." Lestrade sighed heavily. "You can't just expect him to come when you call."
"But he needs to know…I have to tell him…that I…care…" Sherlock whispered fuzzily.
"Tell him what?" Lestrade said feeling his breath hitch. "Tell him what, Sherlock?"
Sherlock then released a faint snore and Lestrade almost ripped his hair out he was so frustrated. He sent Mycroft a quick text regarding the situation and settled down to wait. He didn't imagine that he'd be home for the next week or so.
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"You look not so good, John." Mark said quietly as they ate dinner in Mark's flat.
"Just sleeping poorly." John shrugged as he picked at his pasta.
"Any particular reason?" Mark asked.
"Just worried about something." John shifted uneasily.
"Anything I can help with?" Mark asked.
"Thanks, but no." John said with a half-smile. "It'll be fine, I'm sure."
"Well…"Mark began hesitantly. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Will do." John sighed. "Sorry, I completely forgot to ask why you wanted to have dinner. You mentioned something at the clinic."
"Right." Mark said clearing his throat. "I, umm, well…I was just thinking…oh, bloody hell."
And with that, Mark grabbed John's shoulders and kissed him deeply. John felt his heart swell with lighthearted warmth as the soft pressure of Mark's lips caressed his own. It was sweet and cautious and simple and caring. His entire body thrummed with satisfaction at the delightful contact and for the first time in years he felt wanted and complete.
"I didn't think you…well, that you'd…" John breathed against the other man's mouth.
"Are you kidding?" Mark grinned. "I've wanted to do this since that first day in your office. You were wearing that jumper and, god, I almost kissed right then and there."
John felt his face blush fiercely before tracing Mark's lips with his thumb and feeling something electric skitter over his skin. They melted together again and John whimpered embarrassingly as Mark pulled away before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom and pushing him lightly onto the bed. They faced each other mere inches apart before Mark closed the gap and kissed him slowly and deeply. They made-out languidly just holding onto each other without pushing it into something more intense. They each disposed of their shirts but everything was sweet and rang of promise and patience. After John flushed with embarrassment after yawning into Mark's most recent kiss, the taller man grinned and kissed his forehead lightly.
"Will you stay?" Mark asked sleepily.
"If you want me to." John said quietly.
Mark half laid onto top of him tucking his head under John's chin and wrapping an arm securely around his waist in response. Mark drifted off to sleep soon after that but John stayed awake letting the events of the past hour or so wash over him. He took in the sight of Mark's slightly tanned features and scruffy brown/gray hair and stubble with a small grin. The man had gorgeous green eyes and was only three inches taller than him. He was thicker in the abdomen than…well…he was stockier but in a healthy way. He was about John's age as well. He was fun and interesting and went rock climbing on holiday. He was steady and safe and maybe that's what John needed. He sighed happily before snuggling down into the pillow and drifting off to sleep.
He jerked awake near dawn as he felt someone playing with the scar tissue on his shoulder.
"Sorry." Mark whispered. "I hope that didn't hurt."
"No. No, it's fine." John said wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"When you said that you got shot…" Mark began. "I didn't realize it would look like this."
"Yeah." John said feeling humiliation color his cheeks. "I know…it's not…well…it's ugly, but it got infected before they could get me home and it caused complications."
"It's not ugly." Mark shrugged but stopped playing with the scar tissue anyway. "I was just curious. Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure." John said hoping that they would get off the subject of his gunshot wound.
"You're not…umm…well…you always talk about Lestrade…" Mark began embarrassed.
"God, no." John said with a laugh. "He's just my mate."
"So you're not like secretly in love with him?" Mark asked with a grin.
"Christ, never." John said. "His boyfriend would probably have me killed if I did. Why do you ask?"
"Well…" Mark began. "When I first met you, it seemed like you were pining for someone…I know it's not necessarily the best pillow talk ever, but I just want to know what I'm up against."
"You're not up against anybody." John said firmly feeling his insides wither a bit. "It's just. There was this guy. My flatmate, and I was a bit…well…he was amazing. And he was my best mate but he didn't return the sentiment. At all actually."
"What happened?" Mark asked.
"He died." John said simply. "Worked in a dangerous field and it finally caught up with him."
"I'm sorry." Mark said solemnly.
"It's fine." John said quietly. "It was almost two years ago now."
"But you still miss him." Mark said.
"It doesn't really matter." John sighed. "It was the best time of my life. But things end, ya know?"