Work Text:
Lestrade felt in his pocket for the door key, ears hearing the muffled, gentle tinkle of metal jingling against metal, hands gratefully latching around the cool and familiar outline- the feel of the individually shaped keys against his palm reminded him that he was home now, it was the end of the (usually long and tiring)day. And so, he lifted them, frozen hands shaking in the cold, up to the heavy oak door’s lock- feeling it click and slot in perfectly, feeling the low rumble of the intricate clockwork click perfectly against each other and into place as he turned it.
And then, Lestrade (pushing his entire form against the heavy wood), jolted the half-frozen door open, only to step inside and, before he could register anything more than the darkness that was tinted with the soft scents, warmth and glow of candlelight, he was embraced against the warm and comforting body of his lover. Although it was unexpected, he still (of course) more than gladly relaxed into the arms of the other man, dropping his bags as he pushed the door (with a little more strength than should be required) closed with his foot, beginning to run his cold hands gently through his lovers hair, enjoying the warmth and smooth texture through his near-frozen fingers.
‘Happy Valentines, darling,’ Mycroft whispered.