Chapter 17
Lestrade closed her eyes as she laid back on the pillow of the hospital bed. After six hours of extensive tests, she was exhausted, and the doctors said she couldn't leave for at least another day. Which was fine by her. She needed the time away from familiar faces and places to think about what had happened.
Earlier, when she had first woken, Holmes had explained everything that had happened after she passed out. She had been relieved in a way to hear that Canton was dead, but no matter how bad a person's crime was, nobody deserved that kind of death. Neither did Serena Garret deserve what she had recieved. The woman hadn't been in her right mind.
Elaine and Derrick had dropped by with Jonathan just after Holmes left. They sat and talked and cooed over the baby for an hour or more, before the doctors had descended. Over many protests by Lestrade, the three had gone and she was left to the devices of the doctors.
Oddly enough, the fact that Fenwick was her father didn't really bother her. She supposed it would hit her harder later, when it didn't seem like a part of the rather foggy dream-like state she'd been in. And of course Moriarty would certainly try to exploit on that relationship. Too bad for him that she believed family should look out for family, even if it meant sending them to jail for their own good. The thing that bothered her the most was how she was going to forget that one intimate moment, when the world stood still.
As she continued to lay with her eyes closed she came to a decision. She wasn't going to forget. She knew Holmes had felt something too, or he wouldn't have instigated it. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she thought up a plan, then promptly fell asleep.
Holmes walked into the room where he knew Lestrade was at. Striding over to her side, he set the vase of flowers he'd been carrying on the bedside table. The Irregulars had all pitched in together to get them, and they were a mixture of carnations, daisies, daffodils and roses. "A colorful bunch for a colorful person," Deidre had said with a grin.
He looked down at Lestrade's face for a long while before he reached out and took a lock of her hair, tickling her nose with it. It succeeded, as it had before, and he had to jump back to avoid a fist in the face. He chuckled.
"Touchy, aren't we?"
"No, I just don't like having my nose tickled," she grumbled, "It reminds me too much of the pranks Alice and Edith used to play on me when we were in college. Have you ever woken up to whipped cream smeared across your face and up your nose?"
Holmes shook his head, "No, I can't say that I have."
"It's not a comfortable position, believe me."
"I shall certainly take your word for it." He paused a moment, to collect himself, then stalled again. This was certainly harder than he would have thought. "The uh, Irregulars bought you some flowers. I brought them." He moved aside so she could see them.
"How sweet. Daffodils are my favorites. Yellow is such a cheerful color."
He nodded and swallowed. "Lestrade, I have been thinking. You and I are rather well suited for each other don't you agree?"
He kept his eyes on her, and watched as her eyes widened and then as her lips curved upwards, then down again. "Yes, I do agree, and you've just ruined all my wonderful plans."
His eyebrow jerked upwards. "Plans?"
She nodded and sat up. "Yes, my plans." She raised herself on her knees and put her hands on his shoulders. It was only natural of course that he should place his own arms about her waist and pull her to him.
Chief Inspector Greyson made his way to Lestrade's hospital room. He wasn't a sentimental man, but he did care about his officers, and this one in particular. He was a bit skeptical when it came to doctors and that dead detective. They all said she would be fine, but he needed to see for himself. But just because I need her back at her post as soon as possible, that's all..
He opened the door to the room and walked inside, then turned around and walked back out. She certainly appeared to be just fine.
The End!
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Lestrade closed her eyes as she laid back on the pillow of the hospital bed. After six hours of extensive tests, she was exhausted, and the doctors said she couldn't leave for at least another day. Which was fine by her. She needed the time away from familiar faces and places to think about what had happened.
Earlier, when she had first woken, Holmes had explained everything that had happened after she passed out. She had been relieved in a way to hear that Canton was dead, but no matter how bad a person's crime was, nobody deserved that kind of death. Neither did Serena Garret deserve what she had recieved. The woman hadn't been in her right mind.
Elaine and Derrick had dropped by with Jonathan just after Holmes left. They sat and talked and cooed over the baby for an hour or more, before the doctors had descended. Over many protests by Lestrade, the three had gone and she was left to the devices of the doctors.
Oddly enough, the fact that Fenwick was her father didn't really bother her. She supposed it would hit her harder later, when it didn't seem like a part of the rather foggy dream-like state she'd been in. And of course Moriarty would certainly try to exploit on that relationship. Too bad for him that she believed family should look out for family, even if it meant sending them to jail for their own good. The thing that bothered her the most was how she was going to forget that one intimate moment, when the world stood still.
As she continued to lay with her eyes closed she came to a decision. She wasn't going to forget. She knew Holmes had felt something too, or he wouldn't have instigated it. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she thought up a plan, then promptly fell asleep.
Holmes walked into the room where he knew Lestrade was at. Striding over to her side, he set the vase of flowers he'd been carrying on the bedside table. The Irregulars had all pitched in together to get them, and they were a mixture of carnations, daisies, daffodils and roses. "A colorful bunch for a colorful person," Deidre had said with a grin.
He looked down at Lestrade's face for a long while before he reached out and took a lock of her hair, tickling her nose with it. It succeeded, as it had before, and he had to jump back to avoid a fist in the face. He chuckled.
"Touchy, aren't we?"
"No, I just don't like having my nose tickled," she grumbled, "It reminds me too much of the pranks Alice and Edith used to play on me when we were in college. Have you ever woken up to whipped cream smeared across your face and up your nose?"
Holmes shook his head, "No, I can't say that I have."
"It's not a comfortable position, believe me."
"I shall certainly take your word for it." He paused a moment, to collect himself, then stalled again. This was certainly harder than he would have thought. "The uh, Irregulars bought you some flowers. I brought them." He moved aside so she could see them.
"How sweet. Daffodils are my favorites. Yellow is such a cheerful color."
He nodded and swallowed. "Lestrade, I have been thinking. You and I are rather well suited for each other don't you agree?"
He kept his eyes on her, and watched as her eyes widened and then as her lips curved upwards, then down again. "Yes, I do agree, and you've just ruined all my wonderful plans."
His eyebrow jerked upwards. "Plans?"
She nodded and sat up. "Yes, my plans." She raised herself on her knees and put her hands on his shoulders. It was only natural of course that he should place his own arms about her waist and pull her to him.
Chief Inspector Greyson made his way to Lestrade's hospital room. He wasn't a sentimental man, but he did care about his officers, and this one in particular. He was a bit skeptical when it came to doctors and that dead detective. They all said she would be fine, but he needed to see for himself. But just because I need her back at her post as soon as possible, that's all..
He opened the door to the room and walked inside, then turned around and walked back out. She certainly appeared to be just fine.
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