jeogi
in
openpockets
(no subject)
deerstalker
sherlock and lestrade, gen, pg-13
to sherlock, it is always the hat
a/n: i saw this prompt on the sherlock kink meme but i figured that no one really wants to read shitty fic from me so i'll just be writing this for my own entertainment. because god knows how funny lestrade would look with a deerstalker on. oh greg.
"detective inspector." sherlock emerges from the pile of black long-tail coats and lestrade nearly does a double take. no wonder it looked oddly unnatural, though, so does the rest of this crackhouse. even john, who's just sitting around with the union jack pillow on his lap. isn't he just slightly unnerved by the beheaded mannequin leaning over him?
which at second glance slightly resembles anderson. lestrade decides not to inquire. "yes, sherlock, what is it?"
sherlock looks disgruntled. "i've solved the case for you. it's―why are you giving me that look?" john looks up from his paper, lestrade snorts. "'what look,' you know what look you're giving me."
he gives up. "sorry," lestrade offers with a shrug, "it's just. well, nothing, actually." which obviously doesn't cut it. lestrade smiles. "just wondering, how large is that hat that it fits even a swollen ego as large as yours?" john probably doesn't mean to laugh, but he lets out a muffled giggle anyway. stop, his red face seems to say, we're in the middle of a case, we can't laugh.
"dear god," sherlock groans, "you're so wonderfully funny, inspector, i'll just go fetch some tea and biscuits from mrs. hudson if you'd like to stay and chat and share little witticisms, really."
lestrade clears his throat. "i'm sorry," though he really isn't. "you were saying about the case?"
sherlock pats down his ruffled feathers with a jerk of his head. "simple. a planned homicide by the son and his wife, obviously desperate for the inheritance if their bills were anything to go by. avid readers, i must assume."
"a bit shakespearean."
"plebeian, if you ask me." john snaps the paper shut and frowns determinedly at sherlock. "what, it's the hat."
lestrade lets out a long sigh at the thought of future paperwork. "i do appreciate your help, sherlock." sherlock merely hums and the tell-tale swish of his coat allows lestrade to breathe and laugh a bit. he reaches behind the laptop and snatches something lodged between books.
"looks lovely," john laughs behind his hand as lestrade tips one of the flaps of the deerstalker at the silent skull watching them from the fireplace. "how even do you wear that, it's been the greatest mystery―"
"lestrade!"
the two men who were too busy tittering over the ambiguous shape of the deerstalker to notice the broiling figure in the middle of the room glance up. john loses first and doubles over in his chair.
"inspector, those are valuable trinkets that you just knocked to the floor and―"
"yes, yes, i'll pick them up." he places them gently on the coffee table and offers sherlock a placating smile. it goes by unnoticed. "well, i guess i have some work to do. thanks for your help, as always." lestrade strides by sherlock, twists off the hat and places it gently atop the sizzling black curls and laughs.
it's only when he gets back to scotland yard that lestrade realizes sherlock had stolen his wallet again. he laughs anyway and takes a sip of his coffee.
sherlock and lestrade, gen, pg-13
to sherlock, it is always the hat
a/n: i saw this prompt on the sherlock kink meme but i figured that no one really wants to read shitty fic from me so i'll just be writing this for my own entertainment. because god knows how funny lestrade would look with a deerstalker on. oh greg.
"detective inspector." sherlock emerges from the pile of black long-tail coats and lestrade nearly does a double take. no wonder it looked oddly unnatural, though, so does the rest of this crackhouse. even john, who's just sitting around with the union jack pillow on his lap. isn't he just slightly unnerved by the beheaded mannequin leaning over him?
which at second glance slightly resembles anderson. lestrade decides not to inquire. "yes, sherlock, what is it?"
sherlock looks disgruntled. "i've solved the case for you. it's―why are you giving me that look?" john looks up from his paper, lestrade snorts. "'what look,' you know what look you're giving me."
he gives up. "sorry," lestrade offers with a shrug, "it's just. well, nothing, actually." which obviously doesn't cut it. lestrade smiles. "just wondering, how large is that hat that it fits even a swollen ego as large as yours?" john probably doesn't mean to laugh, but he lets out a muffled giggle anyway. stop, his red face seems to say, we're in the middle of a case, we can't laugh.
"dear god," sherlock groans, "you're so wonderfully funny, inspector, i'll just go fetch some tea and biscuits from mrs. hudson if you'd like to stay and chat and share little witticisms, really."
lestrade clears his throat. "i'm sorry," though he really isn't. "you were saying about the case?"
sherlock pats down his ruffled feathers with a jerk of his head. "simple. a planned homicide by the son and his wife, obviously desperate for the inheritance if their bills were anything to go by. avid readers, i must assume."
"a bit shakespearean."
"plebeian, if you ask me." john snaps the paper shut and frowns determinedly at sherlock. "what, it's the hat."
lestrade lets out a long sigh at the thought of future paperwork. "i do appreciate your help, sherlock." sherlock merely hums and the tell-tale swish of his coat allows lestrade to breathe and laugh a bit. he reaches behind the laptop and snatches something lodged between books.
"looks lovely," john laughs behind his hand as lestrade tips one of the flaps of the deerstalker at the silent skull watching them from the fireplace. "how even do you wear that, it's been the greatest mystery―"
"lestrade!"
the two men who were too busy tittering over the ambiguous shape of the deerstalker to notice the broiling figure in the middle of the room glance up. john loses first and doubles over in his chair.
"inspector, those are valuable trinkets that you just knocked to the floor and―"
"yes, yes, i'll pick them up." he places them gently on the coffee table and offers sherlock a placating smile. it goes by unnoticed. "well, i guess i have some work to do. thanks for your help, as always." lestrade strides by sherlock, twists off the hat and places it gently atop the sizzling black curls and laughs.
it's only when he gets back to scotland yard that lestrade realizes sherlock had stolen his wallet again. he laughs anyway and takes a sip of his coffee.