[This piece is accompanied by @reidididier 's beautiful writing]
EDIT: You can now find an extended version of this beautiful fanfic on ao3!!!
Faint strands of cigarette smoke curled toward the ceiling, and I, thoughtfully swinging my slippered toe, ran my hand through Holmes's hair.
My companion sat in his usual spot - at the foot of my chair, warming himself by the fireplace on this chilly, winter evening.
The weather wasn't great; it had been pouring rain all evening, drumming on our windowpane and hastening people on their way home from work.
Gabriel was late. I noticed Holmes had already glanced at his pocket watch several times. He always worried when things weren't going as he expected. But scratching the hair on the back of his neck calmed my restless man, and he rested his temple on my knee.
So we sat there, smelling the aromas of our cold dinner, both refusing to eat without our little inspector.
Finally, the key turned in the lock downstairs, Mrs. Hudson's inaudible lamentations could be heard from below, and we rose together, expecting our precious ferret any minute.
He entered our living room, shivering, his hair slightly damp, strands of which had escaped their coiffure, falling in dark lines across his forehead. Lestrade noticed us and smiled wearily as we took a step toward him.
Gabriel hummed in response to the greeting and closed his eyes contentedly as I cupped his face in my hands, pressing a few warm kisses to his cheeks and nose before kissing our lover properly.
He leaned against my chest, relaxing his shoulders, and I took some of his weight. Holmes fidgeted around us, like a worried cat, until he was finally behind the inspector, his hands resting on his waist, under his jacket, and running his thumbs over his stomach.
Lestrade turned his head, meeting a soft gaze, and reached out to him with one hand, resting the other on my chest.
“The weather is terrible. I couldn't catch a cab for a long time.” He said, apologetically, an inch from Holmes's lips, but he didn't let him continue.
“It's good you're not soaking wet.” I smiled, brushing the hair from his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple.
Lestrade yelped, and I pulled away, noticing Holmes's hand sliding from his waist to his hips, even squeezing lightly through the fabric of his trousers.
A predatory smile spread across my companion's lips, almost completely hidden from me by Gabriel's head. He was clearly pleased with his little trick.
“Your jacket is damp; take it off.” I muttered, unbuttoning the top button of his jacket. The inspector shrugged, throwing off the damp, heavy fabric. He refused to move away from us for a second, as evidenced by the fact that his head rested comfortably on my chest.
However, to his regret, he still had to move away to remove his shoes and wet socks. He shivered uncomfortably, stepping with his bare feet onto the boards and immediately tried to jump onto the carpet.
“We were waiting for you, Inspector.” Holmes had no intention of leaving his side, still clutching his waist in his hands as usual, while Lestrade delightedly loosened his tie, coming closer to me.
I reached for him, slipping my middle and index fingers under the silk strip of fabric, then clenched it in my fist, gently pulling Gabriel toward me.
His dark eyes glinted in the warm light of the living room, and he stared up at me, his lips barely curling into a smile.
“Are you counting on a second dinner after the main one, John?”
“The second dinner will be the main one.” Both my hands gently untied his tie, letting it hang over his trembling shoulders as Lestrade leaned in for a kiss.
He melted between us like the wax of a soft candle. I felt his weight distribute itself between us, and there was no better feeling.
I admit, we got a little carried away, letting the dinner cool a few more degrees, and I returned to reality after the umpteenth kiss, Gabriel flushed, and on his neck, usually hidden by his collar, several dark marks bloomed, like watercolor brushstrokes, testifying to Holmes and me being there. Like proud artists, next to the countless moles, we left our signatures on his body, as if on a canvas, of which he was incredibly proud.
