Chapter Text
Sherlock and John had held their own in the fight for about an hour before Scotland Yard finally arrived.
But fifteen minutes after they arrived all 7 were arrested on charges of murder and assault and battery. Lestrade stands in the midst of the area where the fight had just occurred, crossing his arms and feeling proud. His men had done good work, although late to the crime scene. Sherlock and John held their own remarkably well— where are Sherlock and John?
And then he spots them. In an alley in the corner of the forum they were in. John is leaned up against a brick wall, panting heavily his cane nowhere in sight. Sherlock is directly across from him, also slightly out of breath but not in the condition of veteran Watson. John has one hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, helping him up right and the other on his knee. Sherlock has his hand comfortably over John's hand (the one on his knee) and his other hand gently holding John’s jaw.
Lestrade processes this. It makes a lot of sense, now, that he thinks about it. John and Sherlock…together. He’d never realized it. But it did fit perfectly.
Clearly, John must be so exhausted that Sherlock pays no mind to the fact that they are in public. Sherlock must’ve simply taken John to a more secluded area.
And an hour is a bloody long time to fight without experiencing any exhaustion.
And Lestrade understands why they wouldn’t tell him. It is certainly looked down upon by many.
But he also feels a strange sense of hurt. Surely John doesn’t think he would be one of them? One of those people who object to love just because it’s not the typical kind.
And honestly, what isn’t typical about it? Love is love, why bother looking at a construct such as gender.
Perhaps he’ll bring it up later. For now, he will let them find comfort in each other. He’s happy that they have each other, god knows they need it.
He can’t think of anyone else who could truly love Sherlock the way he deserves.