Work Text:
I walked into the pub, running my fingers through my hair to try and ease some of the tension I felt after fighting with Linda. She didn't like me to go out, so I didn't most of the time. It should have been fair for me to have earned a trip to the pub, after I went with her to the new boyfriend's fundraiser on Saturday, but Linda Lestrade doesn't work like that. And by "that", I mean "fair".
After managing to convince Sherlock to join me, which was rare, I had to go, no matter what Linda threw at me. And I don't just mean that metaphorically, between you and me. So I'd pushed through the door, leaving her screaming after me. I sure know how to pick 'em.
I'd sat down, I'd just sat down when Sherlock said, "She hit you."
Aw god. Isn't he just somethin'? Sherlock fucking Holmes, ladies and gentlemen. "No she didn't," I said quickly.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you really going to fight me on this? Seems like a waste of time."
I lowered my head. Truth be told, it was embarrassing. Linda's such a tiny little thing. "Well alright, who can tell? Everyone, or just you?" I asked cautiously.
"Just me," he said easily. "The rest of this lot is much too dim."
"Well, I suppose that's alright, then," I said.
***
He'd said to call back to get the information I needed, so I was calling back.
"Hang on, I'll read you the file," he said, but then I heard her. It had to have been. There was a small sort of thud and then the voices of both of them were much farther away. The phone had fallen, but I could still make out the conversation by turning up the volume of my mobile and using deduction where the sound was very low.
"What are you doing calling him?"
"Linda," Lestrade mumbled. "I'll hang up. Let me hang up. Let me go get it."
"You said no work tonight," she said. "It is work, isn't it?" Her voice set me on edge. She acts so nice in public, but she isn't. I'd seen right through her from the start, but this was even colder than I'd imagined.
"Well of course!"
I heard the sound of a smack, and I closed my eyes against the sound. How could he let her do that to him? Didn't he realize he was worth more than that?
Ah, no. No, they didn't realize, did they, the people who went through life tied to Lindas.
Linda was utterly repellent to me, in ways I wasn't comfortable explaining to Lestrade, although I realized someday I might have to do so anyway, if he didn't leave her.
How did he take it? I had to hang up because not even I could.
***
I ended up calling him back when I was icing my cheek. My speech didn't quite sound like normal, but it couldn't be helped.
"Lestrade."
"Sorry about earlier."
"No need for apologies," he said stiffly.
"I've got the information now." I tried to laugh what had happened off. "She's a little testy right now. Er...menopause."
"I believe you're confusing menopause with domestic abuse. My faith in modern law enforcement remains unchanged."
I smiled, ignoring the strain on my cheek. "Shut up," I said.
"Make me," he said. "Now, the information."
"Yes. Right."
***
"Okay," I said with a groan. "Yes, I'll come."
The annual Christmas party. Always stupid, and Christmas was already stupid.
And there she was, the enemy.
Linda Lestrade had hit on me the first time she met me. I'm handsome, yes. That's enough for some women, especially a serial adulterer. But she continued to flirt with me when Greg came back to her side, which confused me. I hadn't known Greg very long at the time, but I'd been offended for him. She just praised me, paid attention to me, acted like he was nothing.
He wasn't nothing. He'd never been nothing. He was so much more than her.
Linda Lestrade was in fine form at the party when I arrived. She spotted me soon enough, whispering something to Lestrade, who sighed and left, glancing at me. She coaxed me over. There are many things I would have liked to do to her, none of which involve listening to her talk about nothing but her superficial appreciation for me and her disdain for a man I secretly hold in high esteem, but I figured the things I would have enjoyed would have been in poor taste and certainly not in keeping with the Christmas spirit.
I put on my falsest smile. "How are you?"
"I'm good, very good. I was wondering if you'd like to get a coffee?" she asked. "Not now," she added, "obviously." She smiled a sweet smile that made me wonder at how she'd been able to deceive such an upstanding fiancee into making things final.
She was clearly on the rebound. I raised an eyebrow as I considered my options. "Well, you know how I feel about your husband," I said, laughing.
She narrowed her eyes at me. Ah, there was that terrible suspicion. "Meaning?" she asked sweetly.
"I think he should join us," I said pointedly, turning to look across the room at him. "Don't you? Wouldn't it be funny?"
"Because it's really his company you'd prefer?" She wound a bit of her hair around her finger.
"No," I said. "I'd just like to see what will happen when you come onto me. Wouldn't that be interesting?" I grinned widely and the muscles of my face hated me for it.
She giggled. "Oh, you really are terrible, aren't you?" She was considering it. She wanted it. Finally, she nodded. "Okay."
"Okay," I said, and I saluted her and moved away. It was too easy. She thought I didn't care for her husband's feelings, that they didn't matter. But, no, they did. They mattered enough for me to want to put up with his sorry excuse for a wife just one last time.
***
"I don't know about this," I said. "Can't I just stay home?" I'd been with her on dates before. Sometimes her boyfriends thought it was funny. I just wanted to read my novel and put on a record or two.
"No. This one's special."
I rolled my eyes. Doubtful. They were all idiots, all of them, with pretty faces and aspirations, but they never satisfied her.
When I saw who it was, I actually had to get up and go to the loo cause I thought I might be sick.
***
Immediately, I was concerned for Lestrade, but I endured a bit of Linda petting at my arm. It was distasteful, but I was studying the enemy. "Would you excuse me? I actually need to go. Happens when I have a coffee," I said brightly, standing. "I'll be back. Promise."
As soon as she seemed not in the least suspicious, I turned and dropped the act, actually shuddering. No, I hadn't meant to hurt Lestrade. He was the closest person to me besides Mycroft. He tried hard to play nice with me and to get others to do the same. He had a wife who'd never deserved him, and all I'd wanted to do was point that out.
***
Sherlock was her date. Of all the rotten things he'd done since I'd met him, which was a good handful, even if he hadn't meant for them to be so bad, this was worse than I could have imagined. He knew about Linda. He knew she was bad news, yet here Sherlock was, getting cozy with the devil herself.
It made no sense. I flushed the vomit, wiping at my forehead a bit with tissue. Ridiculous, that I'd been attracted to Sherlock, that I'd fallen for him, and then this had happened. When it came to Sherlock, Linda's fears had never been unwarranted. I wanted him. He drew me in. I was more his captive than I'd ever been Linda's. I could tune Linda out, but not Sherlock.
"Lestrade?"
I groaned. Perfect.
He knocked on the door to the stall. "Out."
"Fuck you!" I said. "You think I'm gonna listen to you after all this?"
"You trust me," he said in return. "You do, so unlock this door."
"Not on your life," I growled.
Sherlock actually got down on the bathroom floor and peered under the door.
"Get up! That's filthy!" I said, startled.
"You get up and I will," he challenged. So, tired and a bit curious, I did. I walked out, glaring at him.
He put his hands on my shoulders, which was very confusing. "This isn't about me wanting her. If you suggest that again, I'll sick up too," he said. "Come, we need to see this play out. I'm on your side."
I sighed. "I really hate you sometimes," I said lightly.
***
"So, what are some of his downfalls? All I ever see is people praise his detective work and his character. Surely he's not so perfect," I said falsely, nudging Linda, who giggled.
Lestrade looked about to cry so I kicked at his foot and smirked at him for a moment.
"Don't be so harsh, Sherlock," she said, grinning. "He's not all bad. Bit of a flirt, though. Jealous when I see a beautiful man like yourself." She giggled again, that horrible noise worth every bit of victory I was going to claim. "Bit soft around the middle. And all that grey hair." She tutted.
White hot embarrassment flashed in Lestrade's eyes, and he looked down.
"Bit boring. Old-fashioned. Apparently one of the best detectives, but I'm not sure, since there's you," she said, glancing at me. I kept nodding and grinning, as if it was acceptable for anyone to show such a complete lack of regard for their spouse's feelings. Well, it wasn't, but she couldn't know I realized that.
"Would you like to know what I think, Linda?" I said, smiling. I was glad the shop was nearly empty.
"What?" she said. "Feel free to add to it. Greggy doesn't mind." She ran a hand through his hair as if he were some dog. It was disgusting. "Look at all this grey. What do you think?"
I turned off the charm completely. "I think he's got one option: divorce. You're the most despicable person I can think of right now, and I know plenty of serial killers."
She laughed a bit. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think? He's a bit sweet, despite all that."
Oh.
Oh, she seriously thought I meant Lestrade.
Oh. No.
Wow, it took my head a minute to wrap around that.
"Oh, him? Yes, I think he's sweet. I was talking about you being despicable, Mrs. Lestrade, though hopefully not Mrs. Lestrade for long." I stood. "Actually, if you'd like to know what I think of him, I think he's one of the most respectable men I've ever met. He's not me, but he's quite a good detective despite that, and the only one I can think of that I'd trust with my life. He's incredibly handsome, quite young and strong, not at all laughable or silly as you'd like to think. He's got the patience of a saint, which he's needed to be able to survive your abuse."
"Abuse? Oh, come now," she said sweetly.
"If I were you, I wouldn't contradict a sociopathic genius mid-rant. You are in over your pathetic head, so just listen. If you ever touch him again, I'll see to it that you get nothing in the end, because it's more than you deserve. And as for you, Lestrade, if you wouldn't mind coming with me, I've actually made us dinner reservations." I held out my hand.
***
I looked from Sherlock to Linda and decided that, batty as he was, I'd rather be in Sherlock's company at the moment. Even if he'd been kidding about dinner and about finding me respectable and all that, he didn't mean any harm, and he wouldn't hit me.
I took his hand and ran for it.
We left the shop and started walking quickly. I followed his lead. He pulled us into an alley and stopped, letting go of my hand. Before I could ask what our next move was, he wrapped his arms around me.
"Er...Sherlock?"
"Don't listen to her. Don't listen to her, Lestrade. She's wrong!"
A bit startled, I patted him on the back a bit. "Hey there, it's okay," I said. "Don't worry yourself. I'm a big boy."
Sherlock pulled back and looked at me. "Don't you understand? Lestrade, she had every reason to think the two of us might have something. We still might, if you want."
What?
"But no," I said, "you don't...why would you want me?"
"Were you not listening to me?"
"I was, but...but it was all just for show, yeah?" I asked, smiling a bit falsely. I understood he did it to stand up for me. It was very sweet. He was a good man, secretly. Much of the time, anyway. Some of the time.
***
Just for show?! No, no, no!
"Lestrade, you complete idiot. Come with me to dinner. Mycroft got us reservations."
"Mycroft?"
"Yes. You know, your BFF," I said disdainfully. "I heard it's rather good, so let's go."
***
"Well, hang on," I said. I find I'm one step behind him contantly, and it's more than a little annoying. "Is this a date?"
Please let it be a date, I thought after I said it. I wanted to sit with Sherlock and get to know him when he wasn't showing off.
Or, I suppose, when he was showing off less.
He smelled nice, too. "Is that cologne?"
***
"Yes." I grinned. "Anyway, the status of dinner is entirely up to you. I'm not used to dating and clearly you aren't either, with that jealous monkey on your back. Hopefully, I've shut her up for now. Leave her. Seriously, leave her. Mycroft said you can stay at his for a bit. She doesn't deserve you, and she never has. It doesn't matter that you love her, you can love her and still get away."
I paused, watching him, hoping he wouldn't tell me I was stupid, wouldn't tell me I was an inconsiderate bastard and no wonder I was a sociopath and dammit Sherlock where do you get off.
***
"Okay," I said, sighing. "Let's go get some of my stuff, yeah?"
I tried not to let the feeling of emptiness, of failure, overcome me. Sherlock pulled me close again and I sighed. It felt nice. "And then, dinner."
"And then dinner," he agreed.
"Maybe," I said with a swallow, "Maybe this one can just be dinner, and we'll try a date later."
"Okay," said Sherlock with no further argument.
"Just like that?" I said with a bit of a smile. "'Okay'?"
"I've admitted I care for you. Don't make me be too straightforward about it. People won't recognize me."
***
Lestrade kissed me for that, on the cheek, and then grabbed my hand.
"This is the most fucking surreal day," he said.
I had to agree. I rather liked that about the day, actually.
I convinced him to let us walk past the shop hand-in-hand so she'd see us. I'm not sure how much she even cared at the moment, but I did. I think he did too.