"My safeword is Vivaldi." Sherlock said it almost conversationally. And he'd smiled, as Greg choked on the sip of coffee he'd been taking.
"Sorry?" Greg spluttered.
"My safeword. Obviously, you've fixated on the little toy box you found in my flat, as you've avoided it the past two drugs busts you and your team have preformed. You also stare at my wrists all the time, like you're remembering what they look like wrapped in metal."
Greg glanced around. They were standing in front of a large townhouse that was covered in police tape. The investigation was mostly finished, but people were still milling around. There was a chance someone could overhear them.
What would they think was going on? Dear lord. It wasn't like he didn't get enough shit already for bringing Sherlock Holmes in on investigations. He did not need people to think that they were shagging.
"If you wanted to see me cuffed again, all you'd need to do is ask, inspector," Sherlock licked his lips. "No need to keep finding excuses to barge into my flat and look through my things."
"I'm looking for drugs, Sherlock." Lestrade ruffled. "If you stopped getting high, I'd stop having a reason to sweep your flat for illegal substances."
"Come now, Lestrade, that's only part of it. You also enjoy having that power over me. The power to say whether I really get in trouble or not. It turns you on to see me helpless"
Greg's face was going increasingly red. This was not a conversation he wanted to have. Especially not with certain ridiculous, pompous, consulting detectives.
Sure, maybe Greg's love life had been a little slow lately—as it tended to be in the midst of a nasty divorce. Maybe, late a night, he lay in his bed and thought about Sherlock fucking himself on those giant dildos, with a choke chain around his neck. All sweaty pale skin and wayward dark curls. Whimpering breathily, and writhing about. Once—all right, twice—maybe Greg had found himself moaning out Sherlock's name as he came in his own hand.
But that did not mean he was insane enough to think that a sexual relationship, or even a one-night-stand, with Sherlock Bloody Holmes was a good idea.
"Finding cocaine in your flat does not turn me on," Greg huffed.
"No… but the thought of handcuffing me to a bed does." A small smirk slowly spread across the taller man's face.
"Are you coming onto me Sherlock?" Greg raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was an incredulous manner. "Because that would be highly inappropriate."
"But it wouldn't be boring."
"Stop it."
Sherlock pursed his lips, but somehow he still looked smug. It was oddly disconcerting.
Oh... the fun is just about to begin. I don't think Lestrade can hold out for much longer. See you lovely people on Friday :)