Work Text:
"The victim is a forty two years old accountant, found dead in his office with a stab wound on his back but no murder weapon found. The secretary had—"
"Lestrade."
"Hmm?" Greg quirked an eyebrow over the interruption, inwardly bracing himself for the usual onslaught of ‘boring’, ‘obvious’, and ‘are you really that dull?’
He DID feel slightly guilty for waking the detective up for this consultation, but the closed room murder has baffled the Met all day and night and by the next morning Lestrade had decided to consult Sherlock.
When Sherlock showed up in the living room wrapped only in sheets, obviously just gotten up from bed, he commanded Lestrade to sit down on the sofa before he unceremoniously climbed onto his lap and got comfortable. He stared lazily at the crime photos Lestrade was holding out in front of him, yawning every now and then as Lestrade read the case files for him.
"You smoked. Before you got here. At the crime scene. The victim is a heavy smoker. He was smoking a cigarette before he died. No doubt the smell lingered and after being there all day, it tempted you." Sherlock said instead. Greg didn’t have the time to guiltily admit it because the detective on his lap then proceeded to nuzzle his neck, inhaling the rich scent of tobacco.
"Yeah, I did. Sorry, too distracting? I can move." Greg offered, although contrary to his words the arm around the younger man tightened instead, still reluctant to give up the warm weight on his lap.
"No." Sherlock moved his legs across Greg’s lap and laid his head on Greg's shoulder before moving up and nosed his neck again. He placed a hand on Greg’s cheek and planted kisses from his neck to the back of his ear.
"Sherlock?" Greg said, questioning at first, and then dissolved into laughter when Sherlock’s breath tickled his neck. Sherlock let out an appreciative hum as he took a deep breath, taking in the smell of cigarette —both the victim’s and Lestrade’s, a hint of sweat, a faint aroma of Lestrade's shower gel and a smell that’s uniquely Lestrade. He kissed and bit Greg’s ear playfully, before he moved down and licked a stripe up his neck, followed by another bite.
Greg chuckled again, ticklish and also found the situation a bit funny. “Gonna have me for breakfast, aren’t you? Having a bit of a taste?”
Sherlock eyed him thoughtfully, “Perhaps later.”
With a hand on Greg’s cheek he directed Greg’s lips to meet his and they kissed almost chastely, slow gentle kisses that are reserved for lovers and for good lazy mornings, and they would fulfill both conditions had it not been for the murder they were trying to solve.
Satisfied, Sherlock placed his head on Lestrade’s shoulder and took the case files from Greg’s hand, reading it for himself. Since both his hands were now free Greg stroke Sherlock’s soft dark curls absently, pressing kisses to Sherlock’s temple as the detective flipped through the evidence and testimony, adding helpful additional information and observations where it applied. Since Sherlock wasn't in a hurry to storm the crime scene Greg figured this wouldn't be a six. He felt slightly relieved that at least it wouldn't be a serial murder or else Sherlock would've got dressed and wake John in a heartbeat.
"Interesting." Sherlock said finally. "The murderer came in from behind the victim. No doubt your team checked the room for potential hiding places because the secretary and the security camera did not catch anyone entering or exiting the room besides the victim. The murderer entered and left from the window, which you lot have overlooked because you found it locked from inside, so you ruled out the possibility. Whereas you neglected to document the parafin residue from the contraption that locked the window after the murderer has left."
Greg bit back a wince and Sherlock continued, "From the position and the depth of the stab wound, the murderer is likely a small man or a woman, agile enough to climb the windows but not strong enough to drive the knife deeper. The documents missing were decoy, they weren’t important documents. Don’t bother trying to find the documents, they are most likely shredded or burned already if the murderer has half a brain, and a murderer this thorough most likely does. The documents were just taken to hide the real motive. The murderer’s target was the victim all along. Personal grudge, most likely involving money. Check the victim’s client for the past two years and find one with the greatest loss. Match them with the physical criteria and you will find your criminal.”
"Why two years?" Greg asked.
"One years ago there were news of a manufacturing company CEO bankruptcy in relation to tax fraud. The CEO was a small man, about 5’ 3" tall and had a lean willowy figure, but without further investigation I can’t be sure if he was a client at the victim’s firm." Sherlock finished, adding an eyebrow quirk at the end as if saying ‘satisfied?’
Lestrade couldn't find it in himself to feel annoyed when the detective is grinning at him like that. After a short while he found the grin contagious and soon he was smiling down at the detective in his lap.
"Overall a five, not quite a six, but had intriguing elements as well. A five point eight five." Sherlock decided, then kissed his cheek as an afterthought of a reward. "Not bad. Well done, Lestrade."
"You’ve never gone as far as two decimals before." Lestrade grinned and kissed his nose, ignoring his pout. "Thanks. I better get moving then. I’ll come over tonight, yeah?"
When Lestrade moved to stand Sherlock refused to let him up, letting out an annoyed groan when Greg tried to move from underneath him. Still with his head on Greg’s shoulder, he slipped one hand inside Greg’s jacket and took out his phone. He rapidly fired off a few e-mails and texts before he slid the phone back into his jacket.
"There. Your team is incompetent, but Donovan should at least be able to do something with that." Sherlock sighed, satisfied, nuzzling up to Greg’s neck again and tucking his sheet closer around himself. "Stay."
Greg knew when he was defeated and didn’t argue. He DID woke the detective up rather early. So instead he stroked Sherlock’s hair gently, smiling when he heard a contented hum. One of Sherlock’s hand —the one that wasn’t pressed between them— slid inside Greg’s jacket again and curled around Greg’s waist. Greg placed a kiss when Sherlock tilted his chin demanding one and let the detective fall back to sleep on his lap, one hand resting on Sherlock’s sheet covered knee and one arm wrapped warmly around the cocooned younger man’s waist.
One hour later John came down from his room, froze for a moment when he saw them, and then asked if they would like some tea. Sherlock murmured something unintelligible and Lestrade smiled and said yes.
John brought both Lestrade’s and Sherlock’s tea to them because Sherlock still wouldn’t move, and then he sat on his armchair discussing football scores with Lestrade.
Overall it was just another normal morning at 221B.