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Wearily, Lestrade pulled himself up the steps to his flat. When he noticed that the lock had already been picked open, he sighed; though hidden in the exasperation was a hint of affection. Pushing open the door, he called out "If you open the door, can you please remember to shut it properly behind you?" There was no reply but he hadn't honestly expected one. Shrugging off his coat, Lestrade made his way into the kitchen and put the kettle on before moving through to the living room.
"Do you want...." he began to ask but stopped at the sight before him. Lying across the sofa, lost to the world, was one Sherlock Holmes, coat draped over him like a blanket. He looked so young and peaceful that Lestrade just stood and watched the consulting detective sleep. Glancing at the clock, Lestrade saw that it was later than he had imagined and decided not to begrudge his partner for not waiting up like he had said he would so that they could eat together. Lestrade entered the kitchen once more to make a cup of tea but quickly returned to the sleeping man. There was just enough space by Sherlock's head for Lestrade to sit there so he did. The moment he settled though, Sherlock snuggled up closing to him, placing his dark haired head on the detective inspector's lap. Lestrade reflexively began stroking the dark curls, enjoying the contented purr that came from the action.
"I love you," was whispered from his lap, making Lestrade smile softly.
"I love you too."