Word count: 838
AN: I'm not sure if it has been stated somewhere, but for the purposes of this fic, Lestrade is a widower. My first Sherlock fic.
Summary: Sherlock and Lestrade reach an impasse whilst planning their wedding.
John Watson had been closely observing the exchange between his two best friends for the better part of an hour. So much so that when the blow-out came, it was not entirely unexpected.
"Dull." Sherlock stated simply and John cringed.
"Dull? What the hell do you mean 'dull'?"
Here we go, thought John. He shifted uncomfortably in his armchair, wishing desperately for the power of invisibility.
Closing the refrigerator door, Sherlock turned towards the other man. "I would have thought, Gregory, having risen to the rank of Inspector, that you would by now have a firm grasp of the English language and its vocabulary therein."
Lestrade pushed his chair away from the kitchen table and the resulting screech earned him a scowl. "You know damn well what I mean and I would have thought," he paused, indicating the scattered literature upon the table top, "that you would have at least a little enthusiasm with regard to our wedding. You asked me to marry you remember. How dare you call our wedding dull."
The detective sighed, hardly attempting to disguise it. "This is all becoming rather tiresome." He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I simply meant that the idea of a formal reception was dull, not the wedding itself. And I am quite aware that it was I who proposed. You never cease to remind me."
"Well if that is how you feel, maybe there shouldn't be a wedding at all." Lestrade grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and exclaimed: "I'm going out. Do what you want, Sherlock. You usually do."
A subtle cough from the living room reminded Sherlock that they were not alone. John lowered the newspaper that he had been discreetly attempting to hide behind.
"Before you ask, Sherlock, no that was not good."
The detective scowled. "Well I am not going after him."
"To be honest, Sherlock, right this moment, I don't think that he would want you to. You can be pretty hurtful when you want to be."
"Oh for God's sake, John. He's a grown man and he should know me well enough by now. If he can't take a bit of criticism..."
"Criticism? Do you actually listen to yourself at all? No, no of course you don't." John shook his head in annoyance. "Greg has a lot invested in this wedding. Don't forget that this is his second marriage and he just wants it to be perfect. It can't have been easy for him, letting someone back into his life again. So you just think on that before you throw any more insults around."
"Yes 'ah'. Did your oversize brain delete that important bit of information?"
Sherlock ignored the question, donned his coat and scarf and rushed from the room.
"Where are you going? Sherlock?"
The detective popped his head round the door. "I'm a fool, John. A complete fool."
"Yes you are, but, Sherlock, where are you going?"
"To rectify my mistake of course."
"Right you are then," replied John, wondering if he'd committed a great wrong in a previous life.
"I thought I might find you here."
"Yeah? Well I like to come here when things aren't going too well. To talk things out you know. The Mrs always was a good listener."
"I understand." Sherlock knelt down next to his lover. He brushed a few stray leaves from the top of the headstone. He hardly noticed the damp earth seeping into his trousers. "I'm sorry, Greg. Truly."
Lestrade turned sharply. "The great Sherlock Holmes apologising. Wonders will never cease."
"Yes well, it has been pointed out to me on several occasions that I can be something of a..."
"A trifle harsh, but accurate nonetheless."
"No, I'm sorry, Sherlock. You're always a bastard."
Sherlock smiled ruefully. "Let's go home, Greg. I do believe we have a wedding to arrange."
"I thought it was dull."
Sherlock gripped his lover's hand, ignoring the comment. "I may have been somewhat remiss in my participation, Greg, and I intend to rectify that immediately."
"How?" Lestrade was intrigued.
"Unfortunately it would involve sharing our intent with my brother..."
"You mean you hadn't told him?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No, but he would undoubtedly of discovered our plan."
"Yeah, and he would have probably beaten us to the registry office." Greg laughed at the truth of the matter. "So, what have you got brewing in that head of yours?"
"How would a private ceremony at Mycroft's country estate suit?"
The inspector smiled shyly and Sherlock knew he had been forgiven. "I think that would be perfect. Thank you, Sherlock."
"You are welcome, Gregory. Anything for the man I love."
"Sherlock Holmes, I do believe you have managed to shock me twice within the space of an hour. An apology and a declaration of love. What is the world coming to?"
"Don't be facetious, Lestrade. And I would strongly advise that you not become accustomed to it.
"Now that's the man I love," he chuckled. "Come on, Sherlock, let's go home."