Latin Lover

Rating : PG

Prompt : Sherlock propositions Lestrade in Latin.

Later on, Lestrade will be adamant in his view that Sherlock must have consulted Mycroft. Sherlock's knowledge of Latin, he'll claim, is probably limited to "post-mortem" and "alibi" and "cui bono" (yeah, he knows that one, had it pretty much clubbed into him after all the court sessions), and there's no way on earth he could have pulled his little stunt without Holmes major's help.

Sherlock will scoff and counter that while Holmes minor ("he says so himself!") used to believe that "age quod agis" meant "Aggie cooked the haggis", it pertains to logic that he (Sherlock) should be attracted to a dead language. And that if Lestrade is quite done with his non sequiturs, he (Sherlock) would appreciate a clear answer to his perfectly simple question.

Lestrade will make a show of rubbing a world-weary hand over his face. "Remind me what the simple question was?"

The question is "Visne me in cubitum ducere?". As far as Lestrade can tell, it could mean anything from "Hand me my phone?" to "And why, pray, can't I take the corpse home to meet Mummy?"

Unfortunately, the only person in his entourage with a smattering of Latin is Anderson, who is muttering "cubitus, cubitus, oh yes of course" and pointing at the corpse's arm proudly. Damn Anderson for always wanting to impress Sherlock with his command of foreign idioms, and damn Sherlock for always choosing a public venue when he feels the need to embarrass Lestrade. Not that Lestrade is embarrassed - he's heard worse from Sherlock, both in public and private circumstances - but it's already past four, goddamnit, and rigor mortis waits for no one, not even a polyglot genius.

He's about to raise his voice when Sherlock mutters "you won't, then", shoves his hands into his coat pockets and slips out of the room, his coat-tails limp and lifeless.

Everyone stares at Lestrade - Anderson excepted, who is flexing a cramp after pointing too long at the corpse's arm.

Lestrade closes his mouth, signals to Donovan to take over, and rushes out after Sherlock. Who is already halfway into a cab when the DI pulls him back. "Care to explain what the hell that was about?" Lestrade yells over the mid-morning traffic.

"John said I wasn't to ask in medias res!" Sherlock shrieks back. "That I had to try and be a little tactful for once, and find a way of letting you know indirectly, and that texting wasn't an option! Well I did, and don't tell me you didn't get it, any fool would have understood!"

"Understood what?" Lestrade fairly bawls. Sherlock still has one foot inside the cab, and the driver is looking at the two of them as if the late Jeff Hope had just found a spiritual heir.

"That I want you to take me to bed!" Sherlock roars. This when there's a sudden lull in the ongoing brouhaha of traffic and everyone, including Greg's DCI who is stepping out of her own taxi, can testify that his interlocutor spoke crystal clear English this time.

Lestrade takes one glance at the scene, remembers Bonaparte's motto that in love, flight is the only victory, and pushes Sherlock's shoulders firmly back inside the cab.

"Visne me in matrimonium ducere?" Sherlock will (later on) repeat docilely enough, his head curled into the dip of Lestrade's neck, one arm curved in a smooth arc to nick the lighted cigarette from his bedfellow's mouth.

"Matri - oi! Hold on, that wasn't the word at all!" Greg will retort, though too blissful post coitum to do more than scratch gently at Sherlock's recumbent nape.

There will be no answer except a contented snort - though how Sherlock, of all human creatures, can smoke in his sleep without choking to death or setting himself on fire is another enigma. Meanwhile there are six texts waiting on Greg's mobile - Anderson's Latin, it seems, has finally proved up to par - and the sharp pat of an umbrella tip on his rugless stairs.

Too late, mate: consummatum est, Greg thinks wickedly, and strokes Sherlock's nape again.

FINIS

[A/N: Visne me in cubitum ducere : Will you take me to bed? Anderson's mistake comes from his interpreting cubitus (bed) as the cubitus bone in the human arm.

Visne me in matrimonium ducere: Will you marry me (lit. lead me into matrimony)?]