Sherlock Holmes (BBC) - First Name Basis
Title: First Name Basis (I am so terribly witty :/)
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: M
Pairing/Characters: Sherlock/Lestrade
Disclaimer: Not at all mine, not even the idea, I disclaim heartily and fully.
Summary: Sherlock knows Lestrade's first name.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Very non-graphic sex.
Word Count: 580
Author's Notes: All wastingyourgum's fault.
Lestrade is fully aware that Sherlock knows his name. He probably knew it before the first word he uttered, before the first time he stole his I.D (he knows he does it, just not exactly how and he'd be loathe to instruct the man to keep his hands off him, after all). He knows, anyway, that Sherlock knows, and he's one of few people besides old teachers and kids he went to school with who do. He's just gone by 'Lestrade' for years now.
The fact that he knows, that there's no way he couldn't, doesn't make it any less of a shock the first time he says it.
The little thing he did with his hips might have been part of the shock too, because he'd never done that before, either. It was probably a combination of both. Lestrade is far too old to be surprised by sex, even by someone like Sherlock Holmes. He's too old to have sex with someone like Sherlock Holmes, too, but he's never let that stop him before. Well, never let it stop him sixteen times so far, not that he's counting, but he is hoping that one day he'll lose count.
When that happens, he'll ask Sherlock not to remind him. Because Sherlock will still know, and Lestrade knows that he hates that he remembers, because there could be a useful piece of information in the space that takes up in his brain (and he doesn't mind so much that Sherlock doesn't think it's important enough to remember, because he remembers it anyway, and there is a savage glee in invading the man's mind without his consent. He could do with a bit more useless trivia, as long as he continues not to share it at every possible opportunity, like the kid in forensics who seems not to be able to help it).
The funny thing is, he's been calling him Sherlock for years. He can't understand why the other man continues to call him Lestrade at all times save one - it definitely isn't professionalism, because he has never associated that word with the madman who he keeps, for some reason, going to for help - until one day when someone else calls him by it. The reaction is immediate, and downright embarrassing, and he is going to kill Sherlock for causing him to associate his own first name with sex so strongly that he had to stifle a moan and excuse himself before someone noticed that to all appearances he had developed an unhealthy admiration for dead bodies.
He'd like to think that Sherlock would be in a lot of trouble the next time they came across each other, but the saddest part was that he knew the way the other man's face would light up when Lestrade informed him of the success of the experiment, and that he wouldn't be able to be angry with him when it came down to it. He sighed and pulled out his phone to fire off a text.
I'm going to have to change my name.
There was a significant pause before his phone beeped in reply, which made him worry about what was going to be in the message he opened up (Sherlock had sent all kinds of things in the past, and none of them remotely appropriate for a work environment).
I'll make it up to you. Dinner?
SH
And again.
P.S. Am both pleased and actually
sorry. V. confusing.
SH
And a third time.
Love you?
SH
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: M
Pairing/Characters: Sherlock/Lestrade
Disclaimer: Not at all mine, not even the idea, I disclaim heartily and fully.
Summary: Sherlock knows Lestrade's first name.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Very non-graphic sex.
Word Count: 580
Author's Notes: All wastingyourgum's fault.
Lestrade is fully aware that Sherlock knows his name. He probably knew it before the first word he uttered, before the first time he stole his I.D (he knows he does it, just not exactly how and he'd be loathe to instruct the man to keep his hands off him, after all). He knows, anyway, that Sherlock knows, and he's one of few people besides old teachers and kids he went to school with who do. He's just gone by 'Lestrade' for years now.
The fact that he knows, that there's no way he couldn't, doesn't make it any less of a shock the first time he says it.
The little thing he did with his hips might have been part of the shock too, because he'd never done that before, either. It was probably a combination of both. Lestrade is far too old to be surprised by sex, even by someone like Sherlock Holmes. He's too old to have sex with someone like Sherlock Holmes, too, but he's never let that stop him before. Well, never let it stop him sixteen times so far, not that he's counting, but he is hoping that one day he'll lose count.
When that happens, he'll ask Sherlock not to remind him. Because Sherlock will still know, and Lestrade knows that he hates that he remembers, because there could be a useful piece of information in the space that takes up in his brain (and he doesn't mind so much that Sherlock doesn't think it's important enough to remember, because he remembers it anyway, and there is a savage glee in invading the man's mind without his consent. He could do with a bit more useless trivia, as long as he continues not to share it at every possible opportunity, like the kid in forensics who seems not to be able to help it).
The funny thing is, he's been calling him Sherlock for years. He can't understand why the other man continues to call him Lestrade at all times save one - it definitely isn't professionalism, because he has never associated that word with the madman who he keeps, for some reason, going to for help - until one day when someone else calls him by it. The reaction is immediate, and downright embarrassing, and he is going to kill Sherlock for causing him to associate his own first name with sex so strongly that he had to stifle a moan and excuse himself before someone noticed that to all appearances he had developed an unhealthy admiration for dead bodies.
He'd like to think that Sherlock would be in a lot of trouble the next time they came across each other, but the saddest part was that he knew the way the other man's face would light up when Lestrade informed him of the success of the experiment, and that he wouldn't be able to be angry with him when it came down to it. He sighed and pulled out his phone to fire off a text.
I'm going to have to change my name.
There was a significant pause before his phone beeped in reply, which made him worry about what was going to be in the message he opened up (Sherlock had sent all kinds of things in the past, and none of them remotely appropriate for a work environment).
I'll make it up to you. Dinner?
SH
And again.
P.S. Am both pleased and actually
sorry. V. confusing.
SH
And a third time.
Love you?
SH