#greg lestrade x reader

[saraakpotter]

imagine: meeting Sherlock for the first time and him not being able to 'read' you

*y\f\c= your favorite country

You were one of Lestrade's close friends. you worked as a detective inspector in another country but you had recently moved here and since you were a highly intelligent person he thought you and Sherlock should meet.

And today he decided to go to 221b and bring you with him so here you are, standing at a strangers door.

"this is absurd, why should i come again?" you asked

"for god's sake y\n can you stop nagging for a minuet and do what you're told to do?" he says tired of you constantly asking the same question.

"if you are asking me, no" you teased

"oh shut it" he says and you smirk.

The door opens.

"DI Lestrade!" the man says and Greg nod's walking in and guiding you in too.

"so, this is my friend y\n y\l\n. she moved here from y\f\c" Lestrade explained.

"oh! John Watson. pleasure to meet you." he introduced and you smiled shaking his hand.

As you entered the flat and sat down you saw a man with curly brown hair and a black coat sitting on an armchair, his eyes closed.

Lestrade pointed at the man.

"he is Sherlock Holmes. the man i was telling you about." he says and you nod obviously bored. with that the man opens his eyes and looks at Greg but then quickly glances at you.

"who is that?" he asks

"Sherlock, this is my friend, y\n y\l\n."

Sherlock remains silence, looking you up and down. after a while he raises an eyebrow.

he quickly looks at John.

new coat is sleepy just talked to an old friend has a date is nervous

He turns and looks at Lestrade.

annoyed same coat stressed has 2 mission reports to read has 6 missed calls

The words and random facts kept coming to his mind, he hadn't lost his observation skills.

He turns his look at you.

????

Was all he could see.

He rose an eyebrow and looked you up and down again.

"interesting" he muttered to himself

"what was that?" you ask

"nothing.....so, y\n, right? what do you do? as a job i mean." he asks making John and Greg smirk.

[lacelynpage]

You fall asleep in an odd spot ~ Sherlock Preferences

A/N: HELLO DARLINGS!!!! I’m SO sorry its been so long. Life got really chaotic but I trying to find time to writ more. I have missed you all sooo much. I hope you enjoy what I cooked up for today. See you all again soon hopefully lol.

Sherlock: 

Being with Sherlock involves a lot of late nights. When you're on a case the two of you can easily stay out till the sun starts to spill over the horizon. Exhaustion is your nearly constant companion. So it is not uncommon for you to fall asleep on the cab ride back to Bakers street. After your head is resting comfortably on his shoulder he will gently intertwine your fingers. Running his thumbs over your knuckles soothingly. It is one of the few truly tender things he does, and it means the world to you.

John:

Sleep isn't always your best friend. Most nights your body would, rather cruelly, keep you awake. Force you to think about your whole life till you spiraled into anxiety. John understood that struggle and would often stay up with you, making tea and sitting with you. It led to some of the deepest and more honest conversations. However, your bodies were still both achingly tired in the morning. So when John came to pick you up on your lunch break for a date one day after a particularly long night. He wasn't surprised to find you sound asleep on your desk. With a gentle touch he woke you up, telling your coworkers you weren't feeling well. The two of you spent the rest of the day together, cuddled up and fast asleep.

Mycroft:

Late hours were the norm in your house. Both of you commonly work odd schedules as contacts from around the world update you on various projects. On a bright Sunday morning Mycroft awoke to find you missing from the bed. Assuming you had simply gone to bed later and woken up early he walked down to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him was odd but not unfamiliar. You sat at the small breakfast table in the corner, head resting on the keyboard of your laptop. A few papers and a now very cold cup of coffee to your right. Gently, he woke you and ushered you into bed, calling Athena to cancel all morning meetings. The two of you needed some recovery time.

Greg:

It was cute really, well Greg thought it was cute at least, that you could never make it through a movie in the cinema. No matter how much you wanted to see the movie, every time you would drift off. Popcorn left to get cold in your lap as your head lulled back. While the end credits rolled he would nudge you awake with the most childish grin on his face, making you groan in frustration. He would always give you a summary on the car ride home, which you appreciated. 

Moriarty:

You were not one to let your guard down easily, Jim knew that. No matter how tired you were, sleeping in public wasn't an option. However, there was one exception, the plane to Dublin. Something about flying home relaxed you, made the worries and enemies slip from your mind. Softly you rest your head on Jim's shoulder and let sleep overtake you. He would work quietly, kissing your head whenever you stirred slightly to adjust. These plane rides were often the quietest moments in your life together, you both treasured them.

[unusuallysubtext]

Your Sherlock Life

Guys, I'm pretty free tonight. Or any time. Send asks with an intro of yourself or an oc and I'll pair you with BBC Sherlock characters (romantic or platonic, whatever you want), and headcanons.

If youre stuck on what to write, here's a list of (hopefully) helpful stuff:

Love language (either platonic or romantic: gifts, holding hands, touch, forehead kisses etc)

Dying your hair/piercings/nails

Fashion style

Ideal home (type of house/family dynamic)

Things you're into (hyperfixations)

Things you're good at (hobbies, skills)

Ideal future (marriage? Kids? Having a little bakery in the middle of london?)

Let me know if you want a male/female/doesn't matter pairing.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

is it still 2012?

It is now mostly because it's still kicking around in my brain

You lean back and scrub your hand over your face, signaling the barkeeper for another pint as you frown at your laptop screen.

Men are shouting at a telly in the corner, watching a football match and you wonder why you wandered in here. But, at least they had cider on tap. Pretty good cider too. Some kind of craft brew, good for the weather.

The noise wasn't distracting. But your phone was. You wanted to check it. And keep checking it. Over and over. Desperate to know something. But... Instead you force yourself to turn back to the draft on your laptop. Staring at the words on the page.

Your big brother wasn't the only one that wrote things. It's just that no one happened to read your little stories- that's all they were. Stories. Nothing real. Nothing exciting. Slices of a world you'd been creating. Fantasy laid over reality. Maybe one day it would be something, but right now it was just a mess. A jumbled mess. And you frowned at the screen feeling betrayed.

"Work must be going well."

The familiar voice made you jump and you nearly knocked over your fresh pint, "I- shit-"

"Really well," Lestrade chuckled, taking a seat next to you. "Grant writing?" he ventured.

"Just... messing around," you answer, exhaling slowly and trying to muster a smile that didn't look deranged. Or give anything away. But heat rushed into your face.

"Ooo a secret," he teased, "taking up a life of crime?"

"No," you snort. "I'm not clever enough for that. If John didn't catch me, Sherlock would... but honestly John would probably bust me first."

Greg half turned in his chair to look at you better and grinned, "Part guard dog part nanny dog, eh?"

"And always ready with a lecture- even if he's done it first and it went way worse." You take a sip of your pint and Greg accepts his from the barkeeper with a nod of thanks.

"Tough luck," he teased, "no crime for you."

"Probably a good thing," you muse, "I don't think I'd do very well as a criminal."

"Nah," Lestrade agreed, "You'd organize the other inmates into some kind of union or make a little community of letter writers- it would be a nightmare. They'd have to let you out early just to stop the tide of polite but very insistent demands."

You smile a little. Strictly, that's not what you did for a living, but. You suppose it did look like that. Mostly you did a lot of running and a lot of community outreach. Enough that Sherlock found you useful.

"Cult leader though," he hummed, "That. That you could probably do."

"I think that went out of style in the 70's."

"Damn."

"I know, I really was born in the wrong decade."

"Nah," he said, "I think you're where you're suppose to be."

[justanothergoldfish]

Greg Lestrade x reader

Handsome stranger - part two -

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

warnings: swearing, drinking

words: 2200

A/N: there will be a third part. I love Greg too much. Also in this part, reader is definitely written from a female POV. If i hear one complaint about my interpretation of Scottish English I'm burning down the internet.

---

It didn't take long for your boss to show up at the bar after that interaction. 

“Seriously? Ain't he a wee old for a lassie like you?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. With a feign look of innocence you shrugged, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard ya, young lady. Drooling over that poor fella.”

Hearing him call you out so shamelessly made it impossible to stay serious and to not grin like an idiot. 

“Oh can't I have some fun? Hey, maybe he'll tip nicely, alright? I'm just… boosting your business. Sales, you know?”

Gary rolled his eyes and shook his head, and you could almost hear him think ‘You're a hopeless case’ as he nudged towards the kitchen. “Go help the lad in the back, aye? I'll take it from here.”

You too rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue. “Hey, just to make this clear; men are like wine, they get better with age. Guess you might've gone bad.” you groaned in annoyance, throwing the linen cloth from your apron onto the counter before heading into the kitchen.

“Oi, remember who's paying your bills, lassie!” Gary called after you, his voice a bit elevated, earning a huff from you. It was all friendly banter, but it still made you pout, not to be able to serve Greg and have some fun conversation. You had been looking forward to another chat with this gorgeous man from London, he seemed… Interesting. 

~

After what felt like a thousand peeled potatoes later, Gary returned and slumped himself into a corner in the kitchen. 

“I feared the day would come…bloody shite…” he mumbled, looking pale as a ghost. The man shook his head, staring into the steamy kitchen air. 

Without looking at him, you already guessed what happened. “What's wrong? Someone discovered that the ‘monster’ is just a hungry dog you've sat out in the forest?” 

Gary's eyes drifted over to you. “That fella you've been drooling over… He's an Inspector.”

Oh shit. 

Instant panic broke out internally at his revelation and you basically dropped everything. “A Health Inspector? Bloody christ Gary, I don't have a fucking food or beverage certification! I'm only supposed to help you out until you find someone else! What am I supposed to do?!” you hissed, crouching down in front of him. 

Gary sighed and waved it off. “Not a Health Inspector. A Detective from Scotland Yard.”

Was that better or worse? 

It took a few moments to calm down and collect your thoughts. 

“So? What now?” 

With a groan, Gary buried his face in his hands.  “We told him everything, I can never look that man in the eyes again… He's only staying for one night, aye?”

You got back up and crossed your arms. 

A Detective from Scotland Yard? This man got more interesting by the minute. 

“Looks like I'll take it from here again. I'll make sure he’ll have a pleasant time and won’t close down your business.”

~

As you came to the front, you saw Greg leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. He nipped on his beer and locked his phone as you approached with light steps. Even though he had scared the shit out of the owner, he seemed so… relaxed. 

Once you cleared your throat you decided to speak up to him again. 

“So… You're a Detective? Is that what brought you here? Are we in trouble?” you tried to jest as he locked his phone and gave a reassuring smile.” I'm on holiday, no need to panic. I think the owner’s already learned his lesson and if I learned one thing in life it's to never mess with a lady who pours my beer.”

The way his eyes creased when he carried that beaming smile, it was honestly heartwarming. 

“You're a smart man then.” you chuckled, grabbing a small chestnut wood bowl and filling it with a bag of mixed nuts and crackers from one of the cabinets. 

“So, a Detective from London, all the way out here in the Dartmoor in our humble village,” you grabbed a tall glass and poured him another, noticing his drink was nearly finished, “You probably brought some exciting stories along. Care to share?”

Greg huffed as he supported himself on the counter with both arms in front of his chest and adjusting his seat on the barstool. “Rather gory than glory, trust me. Sure you can handle it?”

The teasing smirk on his face made your heart flutter and cheeks redden as you tried to contain yourself and served him his beer and the complimentary snack bowl. 

“You surely know the key to a man's heart. Thank you, love.”

Greg took a few peanuts, juggling him in his hand ever so slightly. 

"You'll probably hate me for questioning you about your job on your holiday, but I have to know. Have you ever seen a dead body?”

Greg munches on his peanuts as he nods along. Knowing that the hotel owner would scold you for just standing around and chatting, you decided to clean up a bit and do some side work during the talk.

“I've seen some, yeah. Part of the job.” He finally says after swallowing. 

From one of the drawers you gathered a bunch of paper towels and a tray of cutlery. Rolling silverware seemed like a perfect task to do right now, surely the conversation would make this eternally hated task probably more bearable.

Greg observed your hands working on the roll-ups with precision and skill as he took one of the crackers into his mouth, chewing on it while watching you.

“So, did you ever… shoot someone?” you asked, spreading out the next paper towel. 

For a moment, he went back into his thoughts. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking a sip of his beer. With the back of his hand he wiped off the foam from his upper lip and gave a half nod, half headshake. 

“Fire a gun at someone, yes. Killed someone, no. I think that answers your question?”

You raised your eyebrows and agreed with a simple nod before moving on to the next question. “Can I see your ID?”

The man grinnes and grabbed another peanut from his bowl, “You've seen it already.”

“Aw, not your personal ID, your police ID, you know what I mean” you mused. 

He chuckled as he reached into the inner pocket in the lining of his jacket and got it out, holding it up in front of your face.

“Wow…  Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade… Scotland Yard…“ you read off the card quietly, seemingly impressed before looking back up to him, meeting his brown eyes. 

“It's not as impressive as you think. Lots of paperwork” Greg explained as he stuffed his ID back into his inner pocket and straightened his jacket afterwards. 

“But- my turn to ask a question. I don't even know your name.”

“Then find out? You're a Detective working for Scotland Yard, I'm sure you've got your sources.” 

His expression instantly gave away that he was more than up for the challenge, despite being on holiday it seemed to be worth the effort. 

“Good, give me until tomorrow morning’” Greg grinned, looking at you all over again. Now that made your cheeks flush a bit, hopefully not enough to be noticeable in the dim light of the bar.  His smile made you completely forget about his age for a moment. Not that you truly cared. He was a fine man with an exciting job and probably made good money, what was not to like? 

You tried to get a glance at his hands as discreetly as possible. 

No ring, good. But it was visible that he'd been wearing one until recently.

Maybe that was your chance to get to know him better personally. 

“So, why does a handsome detective go on vacation all on his own?”

Greg can't help but smile bitterly to himself at your words, fidgeting with the beer glass in his hands. He felt flattered by your words, and after divorcing his wife, your words were like a balm to his sore heart. 

“Handsome, huh? Can't say I've heard that in a while” he said almost sheepishly before taking a deep breath, staring at the foam of his beverage for a moment. 

“Yes, i uh.. I'm divorced. Just happened a few months ago.”

You saw the sorrow creeping up in his face and tried to offer a shoulder to cry on as you sat away the tray of rolled silverware. 

“You know, bartenders are perfect to pour your heart out to, if you wanna get it off your chest?”

Greg hummed, his eyes scanning the liquors on the wall behind you. 

“Need something stronger for the nerves beforehand?” you asked, already reaching for a shot glass. 

He couldn't help but smile at your words, “You're a mind reader, my dear. Pour me anything.” 

After scanning through the variety of liquors the bar had to offer, you filled the shot glass with a clear, yellowish liquid and set it down in front of the Detective before returning to your tasks. 

Without any hesitation, the man downed his drink in one go and licked the excess off his lips. 

“That's a good one. Elderflower?”

You nodded and let him reach the empty shot glass over to get it cleaned in the sink. “Owner made it himself last year. Tastes awfully sweet but don't underestimate the alcohol.” 

“You've got quite the taste, eh? Well… pouring my heart out to a bartender, I'm not gonna pass on that opportunity.” He braced himself mentally and propped up an elbow on the counter, his warm eyes drifting off as he started to explain. 

“Been married for years, but due to the job, my ex-wife and I sort of drifted apart. We've been fighting constantly, thought it was getting better only to find out she…”

As hard as he tried to say it out loud, the words just got stuck in his throat. Not that he had to finish the sentence for you to understand. You shook your head, not understanding why people were that way. 

That was fucked up. And as hard as he tried to find his words, you tried to be empathetic but couldn't help to automatically think out loud “What a bitch.”

Greg blinked a few times at your blatant words before the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. He'd always felt his heart break at the thought of his failed marriage, feeling like it was his fault. He should've had more time for her, he should've showed her how much he loved her, but for the first time, he saw it all from a different perspective as you continued, “Communication problems or struggling to sort out your work - life balance don't justify cheating. Nothing does.”

You cleaned his shot glass and set it away to dry, still shaking your head. You kept on rambling about how wrong this all was, and it made him change the entire way he'd felt about this divorce prior to this conversation. 

Once you noticed how quiet he'd gotten, you too stopped talking and mustered him for a moment. He didn't say anything for a while, he just stared at his glass with a smile, realizing the final straw, his ex-wife's infidelity, was her choice. He never wanted to fight, he never wanted to neglect her or make her feel unloved. 

For the first time since the divorce he could look back at the situation without feeling like a miserable man who had thrown away his marriage himself. Your words had made him realize that this wasn't on him. 

“Greg? Are you alright?”

Finally, his eyes met yours, the outer corners of them creasing as he gave you a warm, honest smile. 

“Pour me two more of those shots, love” he said with an undertone of relief. 

So you did. Two more shots, onto the counter.

He took one of them and gestured for you to grab the other one for yourself. 

“Oh, I can't, not while I'm on shift-”

“Noone's looking. I'm off duty, I won't arrest you.” he says with a reassuring nudge to the other shot. 

If your boss knew… 

Ah, screw it. 

So you looked left and right quickly before clinking your glass against his, hoping no one would ever find out about it. 

“Atta girl. To the pretty lady pouring my drinks and opening my eyes.” he mumbled in a low volume before both of you downed your shot, while his words almost had you choking on the drink. 

He sat down his glass with a sigh and mustered you with care. “You know darling, I think I should come around more often."

[specialagentlokitty]

Lestrade x reader - a little confidence

Walking up the stairs, you kicked the door to the flat open and everybody inside turned to look at you as you leant against the doorway, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Took your time getting here.”

You said nothing and you stepped aside so Mrs Hudson could come in.

“(Y/N) how many times do I have to tell you, helmet off inside.” She scolded.

“I’ll be quick, what you want?” You asked.

“You got the text.”

You grumbled pulled one of your gloves off, reaching into your pocket your tossed the packet of cigarettes at Sherlock.

“Don’t give him them!” John scolded.

“Means he stops pestering me.” You shrugged.

You pulled your glove back on and looked around the room, walking over to Mycroft you leant forward and flicked his forehead making him roll his eyes.

Then you walked over and did the same thing to Sherlock.

“Who’s this stiff?” You asked John.

“Greg Lestrade, works for Scotland Yard.”

You nodded your head a little bit and looked him up and down from under the visor of your helmet and turned back to Sherlock.

“Stop texting me.”

“Stop ignoring me.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him and you made your way back to the door.

“Later!”

You jogged back down the stairs and they heard you revving your bike outside before you sped away.

“Who the hell was that?” Lestrade asked.

“That would be their sister, Sherlocks twin in fact.” Mrs Hudson smiled.

“Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know.” Mycroft said.

The moment you left the flat you could feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, letting you know Sherlock was demanding you do something else.

So you chose to ignore it, and you went back to what you were doing.

For the next week you carried on ignoring your brother up until the point he came by your flat just as you were about to leave.

“What Sherlock?” You snapped.

“You know what this is.”

He held out a phone and you took it, turning around on your motorbike, you resting your back against the handles and a foot on the seat.

“Yeah I know what this is why.”

“I know you know, I want you to take me there.”

You handed the photo back to your twin, and you sighed a little bit.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re heading there now, and we can’t get in without you. And whatever this is, it’s linked to our case and we can only find it there.”

“Sherlock is trying to nicely ask if you would please take us to the scrapyard you go to so we can have a look for ourselves.”

You looked at John and you shrugged a little bit, picking your helmet off the floor.

“Yeah okay. But you two owe me one, and I’ll be cashing it in at some point. Plus you can’t get in Sherlock but John can, people just don’t like you.”

You gestured for Sherlock to get on your friends bike and for John to get on yours and you gave him the spare helmet sitting nearby.

Heading to the scrapyard, you noticed Lestrade was waiting for you three, and you gestured for him to follow you around the corner where you stopped your bike.

You gestured to the large wall of junk.

“Have fun, don’t talk to anyone and don’t snoop.” You said.

“Wait, wait, you can’t just leave us here.” John protested.

“Why not?” You asked.

“John you’re looking for empathy in the wrong person. She has a better understanding of human emotions, but anything other than anger and you’re not going to get far.” Sherlock said.

“I swear to god I will break your nose again Sherlock.”

He shrugged a little and went quiet as he inspected the wall with John and Lestrade awkwardly looked around the scrapyard.

You heard some bikes coming closer, and you reached out, grabbing his jacket you pulled him back without looking up from your phone and they went speeding past.

“Blood hell!” He yelled.

You let him go.

“Don’t go standing in the middle of the track then.”

“Is this even legal?” He asked.

“Private land, so yeah.”

“Who owns then?”

You pulled something up on your phone and handed it over to him.

“I do.”

Lestrade inspected the documents and he handed the phone back to you.

“You still have to abide by traffic laws.”

“Not on land owned by me I don’t.”

You went back to scrolling through your phone and Lestrade crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at you.

Clad in jeans, boots, leather jacket, gloves and helmet.

There was absolutely no way he could pick a single identifying point about you, you just hid yourself away from the world behind your helmet.

“Who’s got access to the yard?” Sherlock asked.

“Bunch of people, go to the office at the front if you want anything I’m not your receptionist.”

With that you got on your bike and sped away, and that was the last they saw if you for the day.

Though Lestrade did start seeing more off you either at the flat or out and about.

And today was no different, you were sitting by a curb and he happened to be walking past so he stopped and looked at her.

“Hello (Y/N).” He smiled.

You put your phone away and looked at him, still wearing your helmet.

“Lestrade.” You greeted.

“I haven’t seen you around the flat for a while, did you and Sherlock fall out or?”

“I’m just ignoring him to be honest.” You shrugged.

Lestrade laughed a little and stepped back as you got off your bike and took they keys out and stuffed them into your pocket.

“Why you out this way?” You asked.

He held up a paper bag.

“Best coffee in the area. What about you? Thought you lived at the scrapyard.”

You hummed a little and shook your head.

“I don’t, but I’m only here cause damn bike broke down, waiting for someone to bring some stuff to fix it.”

“Well I can wait with you if you’d like, this isn’t really a great place to be broken down in.”

“Don’t you have places to be?”

He shook his head.

“Day odd actually, so I don’t.”

You shrugged a little and gestured to the coffee shop he just came out off and you both walked inside and you ordered a drink then sat down.

Lestrade sat down opposite you, and you pulled your gloves off, setting them aside then you pulled you helmet off and set that aside too.

Glancing at your bike, you picked up a menu and read through debating on something to eat.

“Keep staring, maybe it’ll make it less creepy.” You said.

He quickly looked away.

“Sorry..”

You smirked a little bit and set the menu down, leaning back as you folded your arms over your chest.

“Expect me to look like some monster?” You asked.

“N..no..” he mumbled.

You smirked a little more.

“Are you embarrassed detective?”

“No…”

He looked at you but quickly looked away once more.

You thanked the man that brought your coffee over, and you glanced at you bike to check on it.

“So, Lestrade, if it’s your day off, why come all this way for coffee?”

“I was avoiding your brother too and he knows where I live.”

“First mistake, never let Sherlock Holmes know where you live.”

“He knows where you live.”

“He knows where I keep bike and my tools and all, not where I live, Mycroft keeps that hidden for me.”

Lestrade looked at you.

“So you have two flats?

“Yup, pretty handy actually.”

“And you just happen to have two flats?”

“Mycroft went into government work, Sherlock solves cases to pass time, I own a series of houses and business across the city.”

“How did you manage that?”

“We come from a wealthy family and I wanted to expand my money and spend life actually having fun unlike my stuck up brothers.”

Lestrade smiled and chucked a little bit, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t it keep you busy?”

“Nah, just hire a few people to handle everything, I only come in when there’s real big issues.”

Lestrade nodded again.

“Didn’t think you would be a landlord and business person.”

“You think I got my money from crime?”

“No.”

You hummed a little, nodding your head as you sipped at your coffee.

“Go on, tell me what you found when you searched my name in your system.”

“How did you..?”

“Mycroft.”

“Of course. I didn’t find much, a few DUIs, and something about vandalism?”

“Oh yeah I smashed up one of my bars because I wanted to redo it. The person that rents it didn’t like and it tried to have me done for forgetting I own the place.”

Lestrade nodded his head a little and you leant back in your seat again.

You and Lestrade continued to talk until your friends arrived and you left.

And you began to see him more often, usually by accident, but sometimes he would come just to talk to you.

And since you enjoyed making him embarrassed, you had no issue with this.

It had become a game to you at this point, see how embarrassed you could make Lestrade before the pair of you parted ways.

It was like clockwork for you now, but you had been busy for a few weeks now and hadn’t seen him.

You were working on your bike and you were sitting on the floor when you heard someone approaching.

“Thought you were avoiding me.”

You looked up and pushed yourself from the ground, wiping your hands on your jeans.

“I’ve been busy, what’s up?”

Lestrade sighed a little bit and you gestured for him to sit on the step while you leant against the wall next to him.

“Divorce finally went through a few weeks ago.”

You nodded your head.

“At least you can put yourself out there again you know? Find someone better and all that.”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“You don’t have to, completely your choice what you do, but the way I see it is make the most of this.”

Lestrade looked at you before looking away.

“Look Greg, at the end of the day you can sit and mope around about it, or you can start meeting people, getting a feel for things. No one says you got to date them, but you’ve basically been single for like a year now, just get back into the swing of things. Get a feel for what kinda person you’d date and crap like that.”

Lestrade nodded a little.

“I understand what you’re saying, I guess… I wouldn’t know where to start.”

You grinned a little and clasped your hand on his shoulder.

“Shove some drinks down you and you’ll be right as rain.”

He laughed and shook his head as he looked up at you.

“That’s your solution for everything.”

“I have issues.”

He smiled a little bit and you looked at him.

“What is it?”

“What if there is a women I’d like to be involved with but not sure how she would take the news?”

You hummed a little and took a small breath.

“Yeah that ain’t my thing, ask him.”

You whistled to get the attention of the biker that just pulled up and you waved him over.

“Ry is this Greg, he needs relationship advice and I suck at that so like help him.”

With that you walked away back to your bike, to carry on fixing it.

When you were done, you put everything back in the tool box and you poured some water some the bottle and wiped them on your shirt to clean them.

Pushing your bike next to the other, you walked back over and grabbed your tool box, setting it by the stairs and both men went quiet and looked at you.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’ll take this up I need to grab something anyway.” Ry said.

You shrugged and tossed him the flat key and you leant against the wall as you took your phone out your pocket.

You stood there quietly for a few minutes and Lestrade stood up, so you put your phone in your pocket and looked at him.

“Leaving?”

“Something else actually.”

You looked at him, and he just looked away with a small huff.

Smirking a little, you grabbed him by his tie and pulled him down to be eye level with you.

“W..what are you doing..?”

“What you’re apparently to chicken shit to do.”

You leant forward and connected your lips with his before you pulled away and left him go, putting your hand on his chest to pushing him back a step.

“Seriously Greg, you need to just be confident for once.”

“I.. how..?”

“Ry texted me when he went upstairs.”

Lestrade nodded a little and he took a step back over, taking your face between his hands he kissed you again.

Then he pulled away.

“Is that confident enough?”

“Try again.” You smirked.

He smiled a little and leant down again to kiss you, and you placed your hand on the back of his head to hold him there before a little longer before you let him move away.

“So… do you want to get something to eat..?” He asked nervously.

“And there goes all that confidence.”

He huffed a little and looked away and you smirked at him.

“Go on, lead the way.”

He grinned and began to walk and you picking up your jacket, tossing it on as you walked along side of him with a little smirk on your face

[bullet-prooflove]

There’s no surrender, 'cause there’s no retreat

Commited!Series:

The Longest Time - Greg has wanted you for the longest time.

You - You and Greg sneak a moment after spending some time apart.

Secrets - Greg doesn’t want to be a secret any longer.

Drunk Dial - Greg drunk dials your ex-husband after the Christmas Party

Crossing Lines - Your ex-husband shows up at Greg's apartment.

It’s three in the morning when the phone on Greg’s desk starts to ring. It’s his fourth weekend on shift as Gold Commander and he’s dealing with the paperwork from another major incident, because this is London and apparently you can’t go five minutes without one. He doesn’t even get to leave the Yard when something kicks off, instead he gets sequestered to the Control Room to strategically manage the event.

“Lestrade.” He mutters, cradling the phone under his chin as he continues typing.

“Hey it’s me.” You say and he finds himself smiling. “Look outside.”

He heads to the window, using his fingers to separate the blinds so that he can peer out the window. You’re standing on the steps outside, bundled up against the cold in your beanie and his grey scarf. You hold up two cups of take-out coffee and something warm just blossoms in his chest because despite the shit Castor’s throwing at the two of you, you’re both putting in the effort to make it work.

A couple of days after the confrontation at his apartment you’d found yourself transferred from the Yard to Whitehall CID, covering the night shift. You were appealing the decision, but the process took time. The result is you’re working opposite shifts and Greg’s covering weekends until further notice. It makes seeing each other tough but you refuse to surrender because this relationship, it means the world to the both of you.

You’re a sight for sore eyes. Your cheeks are flushed from the cool air, and you look beautiful under the lights from the sign. It’s been a couple of days since he’s laid eyes on you, and he misses you fiercely.

“Hi.” He murmurs, leaning in close.

The scent of his aftershave floods your senses, something masculine with a smoky undertone. The heat from his body rolls off his skin and it ignites something inside of you, because it’s been a few weeks since you’ve been with this man, and you miss the sensation of his skin pressing against yours. His fingertips guide your chin up so that your lips are inches apart, when he kisses you it’s soft and tender, everything you’ve been missing over the past couple of days. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile as his thumb chases along the line of your jaw.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to take you to bed right now.” He tells you, his nose trailing along the length yours.

“We both know it would take longer than the ten minutes we have.” You tease him as you hand him the takeout cup of coffee from the Costa vending machine in 24-hour Tesco Express.

One of the most challenging parts of working the nightshift finding places to get supplies at stupid o’clock in the morning.

“I don’t know.” He smiles, his fingertips trailing over the fabric of the scarf as he gives you a heated look. “I kind of like the challenge, me down on my knees…”

The blush that creeps up your cheeks is fucking adorable.

“I mean if you think you could do it in ten minutes…” You murmur, your gaze straying back to the building.

His fingers thread through yours as he draws you towards the entrance.

“Ten minutes.” He promises you. “Ten minutes in my office is all I need.”

Love Greg? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

@kmc1989 @witches-unruly-heart

[dark-r0ss]

BBC Sherlock Holmes X Reader (mostly platonic)

A little info before we start: Reader is married to Lestrade

Warning: VERY short

You returned home from the Afghanistan war a few months back, having been let go due to an injury you’d gotten on the field.

The first few months was spent recovering and readjusting to normal life again, thankfully your husband was there to help you through all of it.

Once you made a recovery Greg thought it would be a good idea to let you help on a case, and that’s where you are now.

You step in through the door, instantly spotting the corpse in the centre of the room. A woman, one that works in media based on the frankly alarming shade of pink she’s dressed in.

As you approach the corpse you hear taking on the lower levels of the building- someone saying ‘the freak is here’ and multiple pairs of footsteps.

You decide to ignore it for now, assuming it’s the person your husband decided to bring in for help. Your not actually supposed to be in the room right now. Greg had told you to stay outside, he didn’t want you to have to see another corpse again so soon.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out a pair of gloves and sliding them on before lifting the woman’s left hand, studying her ring before looking at the rest of her Jewellery.

The door creaks open but once again you ignore it, only to hear your husband mutter “Oh for-“

“Who’s this?” Some speaks up- clearly male.

There’s a pause as another person enters, injured based on the fact they have a cane; the cane hitting the floor every step they take.

“Colonel?” That voice, it’s familiar; you’d notice that voice anywhere.

You quickly look up, only to find your husband, a man you don’t know and John. Captain John Watson.

Im not going to lie, I lost motivation like half way through. If I can be bothered I’ll make this into a mini series.

[phantombmoll]

"It looked bad." - Greg Lestrade x Reader - Maybe Greg saying it to reader after something?

Silence seemed to fill the room, like a bubble it expanded, stealing the air and everything else with it.

When you'd agreed to help Sherlock you hadn't thought it would be, like that. All he'd said he needed was someone who fitted the recent victim profile, and you had, down to the odd shaped scar at your elbow and the mole on your thigh. Laying the bait was fun, you'd gotten swept up in the romance and thrill of pretending to be someone else. The thrill of helping to catch a killer.

Greg would never have agreed to it.

You'd known that. Which is why you hadn't told him and which was why you imagined Sherlock hadn't discussed it with him and why afterwards Sherlock had laid the blame at your feet for not telling him. It was why now, in the quiet of the office, you could hear John down the corridor shouting at Sherlock about putting other people in danger.

It had meant to end with one of two things. Either a confession or the killer accidentally revealing a cache of trophies. Hard evidence that would add to everything Sherlock already had.

It wasn't supposed to have ended with you being dangled over a crumbling bridge, before almost drowning in the freezing waters of an English river. They had the right idea about witches. That's what the young man had said to you as he tightened the ropes around the chair you were bound too.

"It looked bad." Greg broke the silence and you were pulled from the memory of river water rushing around your head. His eyes were on your hand and you noticed that it was trembling. You clenched your fist hard to hide it.

It looked bad because it was bad. You could have died. You could see Greg wrestling with emotion. Not quite knowing how to put into words the similar weight you were feeling in your chest. You could have died.

"Hey," You said rising from your seat, tugging the blanket around yourself and the oversized clothes donated from forces lost property. You sat down next to him taking his hand. "It was bad, I didn't expect-" You paused and swallowed, looking away from him as shame welled a little inside you.

"I'm okay. I promise. Just shaky, I'm sorry."

Greg gritted his teeth and you could tell he'd just stopped himself from telling you that you didn't have to apologise. He was also clearly stopping himself from saying he told you so.

"I-" Greg started and stopped. "You could have died." He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him. "You could have bloody died." He said pressing a hard kiss to your temple.

[multific]

Back Home

Greg Lestrade x Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, human trafficking.

"Damn it, Sherlock!" Lestrade banged on the table, knocking over an already empty mug. 

"I told you Inspector, once I'll have any information about the woman, I'll let you know, I'm working on another case which is much more important than some woman fr-" Sherlock stopped as he noticed the fire in Lestrade's eyes. He missed something. Of course, Sherlock would miss something, Lestrade was going on pure emotion, while Sherlock was not.

"What is the name of the woman Sherlock? The woman you deem to be so unimportant, what is her name?" Greg managed to choke out, but his anger only grew. 

Sherlock still didn't know what he missed.

"I can't recall." he answered truthfully, but he only gained a bang on the table as Lestrade turned his back to the man, holding his head in his hands.

"Her name is Y/N Lestrade, Sherlock."

"Your sister?"

"My WIFE." yelled Greg as he turned back to look at the detective. "My wife, Mr Holmes, has been gone for over three days, you know how that feels? And the worst is that I have to go home to my two year old son every day and not have her there." Sherlock now saw what he missed. He missed out on who the client really was. He thought this was the case of a cheating wife, but no, now he saw it all. And even he wasn't sure why, but now, the case on his walls wasn't so interesting. "So, I will ask one more time, where is my wife, Mr Holmes?"

"Have you considered... that she might be cheating?" Sherlock knew he was now on very very thin ice, he could see Greg clench his hands, ready to punch. "No, she is not cheating, just wanted to be sure." because Sherlock is an asshole, no other reason.

---

You knew you shouldn't have opened the door. You were soo dumb. Why did you have to be always so nice to others? Why did you have to be so naive? 

They could have hurt your son. But thankfully, they just took you. You tried to fight, but they were stronger, and they outnumbered you.

"You will be sold for a good price." is what you heard before you were hit in the head and knocked out.

Turned out, there was this group, that kidnapped women from their homes in order to sell them on the black market.

There were about five other women with you in that dodgy basement. Chained to the wall.

However, at that point, you didn't know who to trust. You recalled a case your husband had that he told you about when the men sent in one of their own to stay with the victims, pretending to be one. And you couldn't help but think one of them could be the same.

So, you stayed quiet and hoped Greg and his detective friend would be able to get to you quickly.

---

That evening Greg arrived home only to find the nanny and Tom in the living room. She left soon after Greg arrived, leaving little Thomas with his dad.

"I'll find her I swear." he told his son as he carried him to bed. "I love you so much and Mommy loves you too." Greg said as he kissed his son's forehead and put him to sleep. That evening, he gave his son extra kisses.

---

"To be sold?" Lestrade looked at Sherlock in disbelief as they made their way to a warehouse. 

"Yes, they are selling women as slaves, all types of women so that the police would be thrown off, now, while I'm not too sure who they sell them to, I'm sure they will have a list of clients somewhere, they can't be tipped off or they will destroy it." explained Sherlock and Greg nodded.

He was finally getting you back.

---

You were quiet as a mouse, some men even joked how you must be a mute and how it will cost them money as your value would decrease. 

But you didn't care.

All you cared about was Greg and you son, Tom. 

You needed to find your way back to them, but you still hoped Greg would be able to find you first. 

You couldn't possibly come up with a plan to escape. Every corner there was another man, with a gun.

But this really began to take a toll on your mental health. You were exhausted and you really didn't want to wait until any 'buyers' are interested in you.

Then you heard gunshots, people yelling and soon a team of policemen barged into the warehouse.

Everything happened so fast, soon a young officer asked you about your side of the story.

"Where's my wife? Y/N!" you heard Greg call out and you just ignored the young deputy and rushed to your husband.

With tears in your eyes, you hugged him close to your body. You could barely breathe, you cried so much that day.

But finally you were back home.

Holding Thomas again, you could tell he very much missed you. His hold on you never loosened as he made you promise to never leave him. And you intended to keep that promise.

Greg showed you the new safety features he installed into your home, so you could feel safe finally.

You were in the kitchen making tea for yourself when Greg joined you, moving his arms around you, holding you close.

"I missed you so much Darling. I'm so sorry, this happened."

"It wasn't your fault and I'm ready to put this behind myself. Maybe later, I will talk about it, but for now, I just want to get back to normal, with you and with Tommy."

"Of course." he kissed your neck, completely understanding, not wanting to push you. He got everyone locked up. He got the list and everyone was safe now. 

His heart was finally at ease as he held you close while you prepared the tea, not letting you go even for a second. You loved to feel his warmth around you, after the many cold nights in that basement, you were finally home. Greg kept on kissing your skin, his affections and regrets clear from his actions.

"I will never let anyone take you away from me ever again. If I have to burn London down to make sure no one hurts you, then so be it."

You smiled, knowing he was exaggerating but still loving everything he said.

"I love you Greg."

"And I love you, Sweetheart."

He turned you around and trapped you in between himself and the stove, pulling you in for a heated, long kiss. 

Oh yes, you were definitely home.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​ @stunkbiggu

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

                DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

･*:.｡.─_*✧.｡.:*･# ﾟ𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 ﾐ

────────────────────────

────────────────────────

Warnings = **

x teen!reader / x child!reader / x daughter!reader / x gn!reader / x reader / x sibling!reader / son!reader / romantic!reader / ftm!reader / mtf!reader

I don’t own Sherlock or any of the characters in Marvel , I only own the imagines that I have created in tumblr or wattpad.

Main Masterlist

SHERLOCK CHARACTERS

────────────────────────

*✧.｡.:*･# IMAGINES ﾐ

✧.｡.:*･# SERIES ﾐ

✧.｡.:*･# HEADCANONS ﾐ

Being Sherlock Holmes protege/child** - Sherlock taking a liking to you and decides that he wants you as his protege - Sherlock Holmes x teen!reader

[saraakpotter]

Requests

Hi guys! i was thinking about doing this some time ago, i'm completely out of ideas and requests are open! so, here are the fandom's i write for but before requsting please remember theses stuff:

i don't write smut, NSFW and things like that.

i only write 'x reader'

i only write 'female!reader' becasue i'm more comfortable like that :)

i don't feel comfortable writing about (male x male) or (female x female)

now for the characters:

(by the way you can request for the actors\actress's of those characters too)

❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎

MCU:

Romantic and platonic:

Tony Stark\ironman

Loki Laufeyson

Stephan Strange

Wade Wilson\deadpool

Steve Rogers\captain america

Peter Quill\starlord

Thor Odinson

Clint Barton\hawkeye

Bucky Barns \winter soldier

Sam Wilson\falcon

Pietro Maximoff

platonic only:

Natasha Romanoff

Yelena Belova

Kate Bishop

Wanda Maximoff

Gamora

Stranger Things:

Romantic and platonic:

Mike Wheeler

Will Byers

Steve Harrington

Jonathan Byers

Lucas Sinclair

Eddie Munson

Platonic only:

Jane 'Eleven' Hopper

Dustin Henderson

Jim Hopper

Joyce Byers

Max Mayfield

Harry Potter:

romantic and platonic:

Harry Potter

Ronald 'Ron' Weasley

Cedric Diggory

James Potter (marauders)

Sirius Black (marauders)

Remus Lupin (marauders)

(i may add the Slytherin boys later btw)

platonic only:

Hermione Granger

Luna Lovegood

Ginny Weasley

Lily Evans

Marlene McKinnon

Alice Fortescue

Mary McDonald

Sherlock:

romantic and platonic:

Sherlock Holmes

John Watson

Greg Lestrade

RDJ Sherlock Holmes

platonic only:

Mary Morstan

Jim Moriarty

Eurus Holmes

(i mostly write platonic for John and Greg tbh, but feel free to request both :)

AGGGTM:

romantic and platonic:

Ravi Singh

Sal Singh

platonic only:

Pippa 'Pip' Fitz-Amobi

Cara Ward

Connor Reynolds

[lacelynpage]

Hello. Can i request one of your famous Sherlock preferences please? With a S/O with a resting bitch face.

My phather, my brothers and i have resting bitch face. Sometimes people around us ask if we are upset, my sister in law mock us (all in healthy fun ofcourse), and my mother is always scolding us about no one wanting to be near us. Is something that hauntes me every day.

A/N: famous??? Why thank you Darling! its been 100 years since I posted but I really enjoyed this idea, so I just had to write it. I'm so sorry you got scolded for that, its not like look could help it. I completely understand though, people always think I'm on the verge of tears, its strange. But I hope you enjoy what I've written! have a wonderful day Darling!

Resting Bitch Face~ Sherlock Preferences

Sherlock: 

With the RBF that Sherlock has he really doesn't have room to comment on yours. If a stranger were to see you both staring off into space together they would think you are the most unhappy couple in the world. It doesn't bother either of you much though, you're both perfectly happy together. Even if you were actually upset it would take a lot for Sherlock to notice. He knows that's just how your face looks and loves it all the same.

John:

It took him some getting used to. John thought you were constantly mad at him for about the first two months of your relationship. Assuming that one of his habits annoyed you to no end. Once he got to know you better though he realized that's just how you looked and learned to appreciate the beauty in it. He also learned to tell the differences in your face when you are actually upset which helped a lot. He still gets it wrong sometimes but its all out of love so you don't mind.

Mycroft:

He just knows. Sometimes it's like Mycroft is psychic. After about a week of spending a good amount of time together he could read you like a book. He knew what your resting face looked like. He knew that when your right eyebrow was raised a little it meant you were confused. With his skills he memorized your face so that he never had to guess, he just knew. It was incredible and freaky all at the same time. Though it was kinda nice that he never asked unnecessarily. 

Greg:

Bless his heart, Greg always gets worried. No matter how many times you tell him it’s just how you look he doesn't get it. He is nearly constantly convinced you are upset in some way. It's incredibly sweet sometimes, when it is clear he is just making sure you are happy. It's not so sweet when he pesters you about it so much that you do actually get mad. He never means to, he only has the best of intentions, but when he doesnt shut up with the “are you alright, Love?” “Did I do something to upset you?” “Do you want me to fetch you something? Would that make it better?” it can drive you up a wall. 

Moriarty:

He's obsessed. The coldness in your gaze always makes him smile. When you are reading or even just looking into the distance he loves to see how uninterested you look. He finds it fascinating. More than a few times you have caught him mimicking your expression. He has a fairly good RBF himself but he says that he has crafted it after yours.   

[unusuallysubtext]

Your Sherlock Life Masterlist

Irene Adler

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Molly Hooper

Greg Lestrade

James 'Jim' Moriarty

John Watson

-

instructions

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Okay. okay. I'll bite give me a sherlock fic.

Here. We. Fucking. Go.

"What are you doing?" John asked, trying to read your phone screen, cocking his head. You were sitting with your head dangling off the sofa and scrolling. One Headphone in.

"Sulking," you sigh, closing the offending app and locking your screen. Why were Busy people always too busy to update their socials? It made semi-ethical cyber stalking difficult.

"Why-

"Because her current infatuation isn't paying attention to her," Sherlock intoned from his chair. Snapping back into life from behind steepled fingers.

"That's not-" you start.

"Don't deny it," he said smirking, "You'll only get annoyed when I prove it."

You give John a look and he only shrugged. "Doesn't that hurt your neck?" he asked. Ignore him was the intended message it irritates him more.

It was your turn to shrug, "Not as much as sleeping on planes or trying to read books laying on my stomach." The Holmes boys weren't the only ones who could converse without speaking. "Anyway," you tell them, getting to your feet, "I think I should probably go check on my office-"

"You're off this week," John said, handing you your jacket anyway.

"Yeah," you sigh, "But there's always stuff to do. A grant to write or a back log of volunteer forms to sign. If I keep up on it it's less work for Monday."

[justanothergoldfish]

Greg Lestrade x reader

Handsome stranger

pt. 1 pt.2 pt. 3

warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking

word count: 950

A/N: this plays during the events of the episode 'Hounds of Baskerville'.

---

It was a rather slow afternoon, all the guests had settled in this morning. You checked the guest book and there were no more reservations booked for today. Since most guests were currently out with Fletcher, the guide for the Hound of Baskerville Tour, it was finally calming down in the “Cross Keys” hotel and bar. There was finally time to refill the ale and the fridge for the sodas. 

This entire story about this monster had brought in a lot of customers in the last month, which is why you were helping Gary, the owner and a family friend, out. He'd asked you to work for him part time so he had more time for management and the paperwork.

Billy stuck his head out from the kitchen and gave you an exhausted look. “You alright up front? We're busy prepping dinner back here, but if you need help just call, okay?” the ginger haired boy panted, wiping his hands on a towel. You just chuckled and nodded along, it was adorable how the staff was still treating you like a raw egg. 

“I'm fine, don't worry. Not my first time being a waitress” you smiled, patting his shoulder before he looked up to the bar. “Ah, customer.” he said, quickly nudging to the door as he retreated to the kitchen. 

You turned around to see a middle aged man with ashy gray hair and a beige, loose jacket. He wore a black button shirt and anthracite pants, on his face a black pair of sunglasses. 

Yeah, definitely a foreigner. 

You tightened your apron as you walked up to the bar, supporting yourself on the edge of the surface with both hands. 

“Hi, welcome to the Cross Keys.” you smiled as he looked around, hands buried in his pockets. 

“Mmh, nice cozy place, innit?” 

Ah, so he's from London. 

“Most definitely, Sir. Away from all the city trouble, it's pure heaven.” You smiled at him and he took off his shades, letting his eyes get used to the light in the room. 

Once they had adapted, he looked directly at you. Big mistake. His eyes were a gorgeous shade of chocolate brown, practically making you melt away at first sight.

No, get it out of your head. He's way too old and probably married.

“You don't happen to have any single rooms available for tonight, do you?” He asked, putting his hands back into his pockets. 

Or maybe not married. 

You pretended to check the bookings, chewing on your lip as you tried your best to look very focused in order not to smile. Despite his age, he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. 

As soon as you had yourself back together, you nodded and looked back up at the man. 

“Actually, we do. That'll be 120£, breakfast is already included and served in the dining room from 7.30 to 9.30 in the morning.” 

The man nodded and pulled out his wallet, “Sounds good. I'll take it.” he says, his voice dropping lower than before. It distracted you to the point you almost gave him the key without having him pay, hadn't he already reached out the money to you. 

“Oh, and your ID please.” you added, taking the money and putting it into the cash register. 

“Sure, one second.” He pulled out the card and placed it on the counter, shoving it over to you. As you took it, you quickly read through his information, calculating in your head. 

So he's 49, damn, from London. 1,80m tall… Gregory Lestrade… handsome man, handsome name. 

Gregory Lestrade. 

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts and cleared your throat, writing down his personal information into the guest book and handing the card back to him. 

“The rooms are upstairs, around the corner on the left.” you said, taking some of the already polished glasses and one by one wiping them down again, just to look busy and to have an excuse to stay up front for a while longer.

“Came to see the creature?” you grinned, and Lestrade seemed to be in thought for a moment. He took the key with the room number and his ID from the counter. 

“Sort of…” he grins to himself, leaning against the bar, hoping to catch a glimpse into the guest book. 

“I'm actually looking for.. uhm, a friend.”

You raised an eyebrow, wiping down another glass. “Oh, a woman?”

Lestrade can't help but huff. He shakes his head as he wets his lips, “Tall man with dark curly hair, probably wore a dark coat, collar turned up for the dramatic effect. Occasionally acts like a drama queen though.” 

Yeah, that rang a bell. 

“With his shorter boyfriend?”

Lestrade took a seat on a barstool, snorting at your confident words. He tries his best not to grin and laugh out loud. 

“Yeah, his, er… boyfriend.” He mumbles in amusement. “So they are here, good. Listen, I'll bring my bag to my room and I'll be right back for a drink. I'll probably need it.”

You put the glass down and tucked the cloth back into the belt of your apron. 

“Great idea. I've just opened a brand new keg of Guinness if you're interested? I'll be here if you need anything else, Mr. Lestrade.” you smile sweetly, taking his appearance in once again. 

Lestrade turned his head back to you as he walked to the door with an amused grin. “Guinness sounds wonderful, and you can just call me Greg, love.” 

Watching him go, you just stood there behind the bar, staring and smiling in awe like a dork. 

Greg Lestrade.

What a handsome stranger...