Baker Street Boys

35

//SMUT WARNING//

*Greg and Sherlock oneshot. Might as well skip this part if u feel uncomfortable.

Lestrade's always had a submissive personality. Usually it gets him into trouble. Sherlock Holmes, of course, notices Lestrade's natural tendencies. But he turns out to be the first one that wants to exploit them in a positive way.

"Ah, Lestrade," Sherlock smirks as he ducks underneath the police tape. "Over your little bout of the flu, I take it?"

"Barely," Greg sighs. His head still feels like a brick. He's only functional because he drowned half a bottle of cough syrup before showing up to work.

"Pity. Inspector Hopkins and I were getting on so well."

"Like hell you were. He called this morning and begged me to come in so he wouldn't have to deal with you again."

"Really? I'm shocked." Sherlock doesn't look shocked at all. No. He has on that same condescending expression he gives all the lesser mortals. The little twist at the corner of his lip, the narrowed lids to hide the startling blue of his irises. He thinks he's better than everybody else—and he's right. That's the most annoying part about it.

"For future reference, people don't enjoy being shouted at. Nor do they appreciate it when you expose their marital problems in front of an audience of their coworkers."

"You're still here, aren't you?"

"Yeah, well, you remind me a lot of my ex-wife," Greg snorts. "Bit comforting in a way, to know that there's still somebody around that thinks I'm a complete waste of brain matter. Shall we?"

Sherlock starts to step towards the front door of the house they've got blocked off. It's a nasty murder. Blood everywhere. The putrid, rusty smell makes Greg queasy.

But then Sherlock stops when he's standing right beside Greg. He leans in a bit too close for comfort.

"Are you implying that you crave the abuse, Detective Inspector?" he whispers.

"Sorry?" Greg blinks. His stomach does a little flip.

Sherlock doesn't respond. He just continues on into the house

***

Greg only left his office for a moment to refill his coffee mug. As he walks back through the door, he sees Sherlock Holmes, sitting behind the mahogany desk, flipping through case files. He's in Greg's chair and he has the gall to look smug about it.

"Those files are classified," Greg groans.

"Then you shouldn't just leave them lying around. Anybody could find them." Sherlock widens his eyes, feigning innocence.

"What are you doing here?"

"Bored. You must have something interesting going on."

"Just paperwork." Greg is still standing near the doorway. Sherlock hasn't gotten up. It seems awkward to say something. But taking the seat on the side of the desk that's reserved for visitors feels like some sort of defeat.

"How's the coffee today?" Sherlock swivels back and forth in the chair as if he can't keep still.

"Not bad," Greg shrugs.

"I take mine black with two sugars."

He can't be serious. Greg stares at him for a moment. Sherlock doesn't break eye contact. There's a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth, but he doesn't say anything else.

Greg sets his mug down on the corner of his desk and walks back out of his office towards the break room. He doesn't even know why he's doing it. Maybe he just wants to avoid the paperwork for a few more precious minutes. Or at least, that's what he's going to tell himself.