FIc: Crack. You have been warned
Summary: Crack: Lestrade, Sherlock, take a number....
Rating: R. Oh yes.
Type: PornWithSillyLines. Oh Without Plot too, but the silly lines are the thing.
It appeared on my hard drive, I have no idea where it came from. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!
============
Lestrade had 'come out' as gay as part of a Yard-wide push for "diveristy and integration'. As well as a certain amount of drink.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth from those of the (straight) female persuasion although as Donovan had said "Looking like that and unmarried, what did you expect?"
Down the blokier end of the pub the reaction was a bit more mixed with most of the less comfortable men twitching a little but trying to pretend it didn't matter, while a few who might (if very drunk) have admitted to a bit of heteroflexibility looked into their beers with thoughtful expressions.
Lestrade rode out the jokes and the discomfort, and things settled down, except for the new man.
Who had not, it appeared, done the diversity training. Or if he had, had slept through it. (Lestrade had too, but that was different!)
It didn't help that around about the same time, one Sherlock Holmes appeared on the scene. Dress sense out of the more flamboyant issues of GQ, hair and eyes to make a statue blush, magnetism that was measured at something like "can pull the Queen Mary up into dry dock", and as far as anyone could tell (and you can bet there were people looking, oh yes!) with no interest at all in anyone who was equipped with an innie rather than an outie.
So there was Lestrade, diverse as all hell and making tongues hang out whenever he laughed (and faces fall whenever he wore a tie) who appeared to be letting this posh poster boy in on cases and the bugger (well no one doubted it!) was solving them for him!
And this was upsetting New Boy rather a lot.
"Look at him! He lets that poncy little sod into all the crime scenes, waits for him to do the work, then takes the credit! "
And in a slightly (but only slightly) lower voice "Bet he's paying him for it. And not in money either! These poofs, they are all like that! Bet Lestrade wouldn't get any results if he wasn't sucking cock!"
There were a few people who thought New Boy had a point, although they wouldn't have put it quite like that. Out loud.
So when one day Lestrade got a new case, a particularly juicy one with lots of strange and fascinating detail, no one was surprised when Sherlock Holmes turned up within 15 minutes of the file landing on the DI's desk.
It was a bit unusual for him to dive into Lestrade's office without so much as a "The tilt of your neck shows you've been sleeping on the couch again, what was it this time, too many beans for dinner?" in passing.
New Boy had had enough. He was going to show up Lestrade's dirty little secret to the whole floor. He was going to fling that door open and show Lestrade on his knees sucking cock to persuade The Freak to please solve his cases because he was too useless to do it.
So with a yell of "Hey! Lookit over here!!!!" he flung the door open!
To indeed reveal a scene of definitely enthusiastic fellatio.
But it was Lestrade sitting in the chair looking very happy with life indeed, and Sherlock Holmes on his knees, mouth full (with some left over, there were going to be some horses with issues if this got out), and humming Beethoven's Fifth with special attention to the deeper registers.
The floor looked on with collective amazement.
Sherlock ignored them in favour of concentrating on his performance and on doing something no one (all right two people) wanted to think about with his left hand. Lestrade ignored them in favour of coming with a moaning cry that made more than two people's hair stand up (And more than two other things stand up it has to be said)
Sherlock swallowed (you doubted it?), looked up at Lestrade and said "OK, got the file?"
Lestrade reached down, rumpled his hair, and said "Of course!" and handed him the case file.
New Boy just stood there, gobsmacked. It appeared he had got the wrong end of the ... umm.. stick indeed.
"You... I thought he was doing you so you would do his work for him! You mean you do him so he'll let you solve his cases?"
"No, I solve his cases so he'll let me do him! It's the only way I could jump the queue. Otherwise I'd be waiting years." said Sherlock, holding up a square of card with the number "197" clearly visible.
Donovan looked out the window. She had noticed that there did seem to be an awful lot of good looking men hanging about this bit of Westminster..... She wondered how many of them had numbers greater than 197.
Rating: R. Oh yes.
Type: PornWithSillyLines. Oh Without Plot too, but the silly lines are the thing.
It appeared on my hard drive, I have no idea where it came from. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!
============
Lestrade had 'come out' as gay as part of a Yard-wide push for "diveristy and integration'. As well as a certain amount of drink.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth from those of the (straight) female persuasion although as Donovan had said "Looking like that and unmarried, what did you expect?"
Down the blokier end of the pub the reaction was a bit more mixed with most of the less comfortable men twitching a little but trying to pretend it didn't matter, while a few who might (if very drunk) have admitted to a bit of heteroflexibility looked into their beers with thoughtful expressions.
Lestrade rode out the jokes and the discomfort, and things settled down, except for the new man.
Who had not, it appeared, done the diversity training. Or if he had, had slept through it. (Lestrade had too, but that was different!)
It didn't help that around about the same time, one Sherlock Holmes appeared on the scene. Dress sense out of the more flamboyant issues of GQ, hair and eyes to make a statue blush, magnetism that was measured at something like "can pull the Queen Mary up into dry dock", and as far as anyone could tell (and you can bet there were people looking, oh yes!) with no interest at all in anyone who was equipped with an innie rather than an outie.
So there was Lestrade, diverse as all hell and making tongues hang out whenever he laughed (and faces fall whenever he wore a tie) who appeared to be letting this posh poster boy in on cases and the bugger (well no one doubted it!) was solving them for him!
And this was upsetting New Boy rather a lot.
"Look at him! He lets that poncy little sod into all the crime scenes, waits for him to do the work, then takes the credit! "
And in a slightly (but only slightly) lower voice "Bet he's paying him for it. And not in money either! These poofs, they are all like that! Bet Lestrade wouldn't get any results if he wasn't sucking cock!"
There were a few people who thought New Boy had a point, although they wouldn't have put it quite like that. Out loud.
So when one day Lestrade got a new case, a particularly juicy one with lots of strange and fascinating detail, no one was surprised when Sherlock Holmes turned up within 15 minutes of the file landing on the DI's desk.
It was a bit unusual for him to dive into Lestrade's office without so much as a "The tilt of your neck shows you've been sleeping on the couch again, what was it this time, too many beans for dinner?" in passing.
New Boy had had enough. He was going to show up Lestrade's dirty little secret to the whole floor. He was going to fling that door open and show Lestrade on his knees sucking cock to persuade The Freak to please solve his cases because he was too useless to do it.
So with a yell of "Hey! Lookit over here!!!!" he flung the door open!
To indeed reveal a scene of definitely enthusiastic fellatio.
But it was Lestrade sitting in the chair looking very happy with life indeed, and Sherlock Holmes on his knees, mouth full (with some left over, there were going to be some horses with issues if this got out), and humming Beethoven's Fifth with special attention to the deeper registers.
The floor looked on with collective amazement.
Sherlock ignored them in favour of concentrating on his performance and on doing something no one (all right two people) wanted to think about with his left hand. Lestrade ignored them in favour of coming with a moaning cry that made more than two people's hair stand up (And more than two other things stand up it has to be said)
Sherlock swallowed (you doubted it?), looked up at Lestrade and said "OK, got the file?"
Lestrade reached down, rumpled his hair, and said "Of course!" and handed him the case file.
New Boy just stood there, gobsmacked. It appeared he had got the wrong end of the ... umm.. stick indeed.
"You... I thought he was doing you so you would do his work for him! You mean you do him so he'll let you solve his cases?"
"No, I solve his cases so he'll let me do him! It's the only way I could jump the queue. Otherwise I'd be waiting years." said Sherlock, holding up a square of card with the number "197" clearly visible.
Donovan looked out the window. She had noticed that there did seem to be an awful lot of good looking men hanging about this bit of Westminster..... She wondered how many of them had numbers greater than 197.