Eva told me to write a fic about EXPLOSIONS, FIREWORKS, and a MICROWAVE. so I did.
He loved Greg’s flat — he really did. But there was no denying that the place needed about a dozen more bloody outlets. Iain shifted the toaster and sighed — nothing. Or rather — almost nothing.
He blinked.
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JUST A DRABBLE THING, BUT… Uniforrrrmmmms because of reasons! IDK, ends on a weird romantic ekfjewkjlrh note. EDIT: *NOT* A SALLY/GREG ROMANTIC NOTE. JESUS NO.
Greg was staring at the ceiling. He’d already counted every individual crack and picked out a few places he’d re-plaster the next time they had a week-end free. But at the moment, they had places to be and he was at his wits’ end.
“You know, for someone who prides herself on being able to get ready quickly, you sure are taking quite a long time.”
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Dimmock’s sergeant is a smoker. Obviously this causes problems for him when he comes home to his once-an-addict boyfriend. [ILLUSTRATION BY THE PERFECT GENIUSBEE HERE]
The key scraped in the lock, and Greg rushed to brush crumbs from a packet of crisps off his chest. Iain pushed through the door just as Greg stood up, sliding across the floor to greet him.
But the younger man held up a hand to stop him before he could get too close. “Don’t.”
Greg looked bewildered, and slightly hurt. The smile faded from his face.
“Oh, don’t give me that. I absolutely reek of cigarettes and I’m going to shower.”
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geniusbee replied to your post: Alright, I’m feeling restless. Hit me up with some…
Dimmock doesn’t know how to do something simple like swim or ride a bike or something. Everyone at the Yard takes it upon themselves to fix that.
“There’s always public transport,” Anderson reminded her as Dimmock slipped past him to get at the tea.
Sally tried not to cringe. “I haven’t had an oyster card in ages. And it can be so unreliable.”
“What’s this?” Dimmock asked while he rifled through a box of assorted flavours.
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trueamericanenglish replied to your post
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. I want this backstory. I want it now.
WELL, HERE IT IS… WHY IAIN SLEEPS SO MUCH DURING THE DAY~
The kettle hissed and frothed, but it wasn’t ready yet. Every so often Iain would glance up, his tired eyes taking ages to shift focus from the table to the stovetop no more than six feet away. He was waiting — and anxiously.
If it had been noon, like his watch suggested, he might not have cared whether the damn thing started shrieking. But it wasn’t — it was hardly three in the morning, and the flat’s other occupant was sleeping, as people tended to do when they had to be up for work that day.
Funny how he and Lestrade could have the same title, in the same office — and yet kept such radically different hours. The whole bloody system was just a bit strange.
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evawrites replied to your post: All in favour of whipping out a bunch of…
write some dick, chesh!
AWWW YEAH~~
“I’m not joking. Four days in a row, he stood outside the classroom, with a different flower every time. I told him to sod off twice, and the fourth time I just blanked him. He literally could not take a hint.”
Iain snorted. “Did you tell him off the first time?”
“In no uncertain terms,” Sally answered, lifting her glass. “I think a toddler could have understood ‘I am not interested in you. Please go away.’ But this guy…” She shuddered and sipped her beer briefly. “Honestly, where do people get off thinking they can just keep hounding you, after you’ve said no?”
Lestrade shrugged. “Never made sense to me. Seems like the more you bother someone, the less likely it is they’ll want to date you in the first place.”
“Common sense.” Anderson idly studied a scratch in the table while he spoke. “Never apply it to most people.”
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