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hot chocolate

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The clock on the wall opposite the lift catches your eye as the doors judder open. Only a minute late; you’ll probably get away with that. Quickly walking along the corridor, you’re hoping no-one notices that you’ve got sausage roll crumbs all down your coat, and rain soaked tights. Lunch time Christmas shopping is your idea of hell on earth, but needs must for your cousin who’s decided at the last minute that they will come for Christmas Day after all.

Slipping through the door just behind DI Dimmock - he’s holding it open for you, smiling sympathetically -  you juggle the heavy carrier bag from one hand to the other. Hopefully it’ll fit under your desk; it’ll have to as you’ve no time to drop it off in the locker room.

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Last minute shopping? Thought you’d be all done and sorted already!’

Shaking your head, you veer off in the direction of your desk. ‘Don’t ask!’

A quick glance at the clock above the photocopier tells you you’re only two minutes late, and no-one appears bothered. Reaching your desk, you bend down and hastily shove the bag underneath. You straighten up, brush the last stray pastry crumbs, and suddenly stop.

Oh. Where’s that come from?

There’s a large Starbucks cup on your desk, right in front of your monitor. And a cupcake. A cupcake? A cheery robin’s sitting on top of the fluffy swirl of buttercream, looking for all the world like he’s smiling at you.

You look up, scanning the office but everyone's carrying on as normal. Reaching for the cup. you see your name written on it, well more like scribbled but still recognisable. Grasping the cup gently - it’s still hot - the familiar, delicious smell wafts warmly up as you bring it closer to your nose. Oh heaven, hot chocolate! Who knows that you like hot chocolate?

‘I’m sorry.’

Your heart jumps and you blush. That rough sexy voice belongs to only one police officer.

Turning slowly, you try to calm your breathing, and pray that your cheeks aren’t too obvious. And there he is. Leaning his gorgeous backside against the desk behind you, hands shoved into his trouser pockets, a sheepish look on his face.

‘Sorry for what?’

DI Lestrade’s eyes hold yours, and you feel like you could just fall straight into them. Those beautiful, kind dark brown eyes. 

‘For earlier - I’m sorry for snapping at you. I shouldn’t have.’

Goosebumps ripple along your skin, butterflies crash about inside your chest; the same reaction you get every time he’s near you. But damn it, his voice, his eyes - he is so handsome, and kind and lovely. And he’s standing there before you looking contrite and upset, and you just want to reach out and hug him close. Feel those arms around you, those hands…

Stop it.

‘It’s ok, sir.’ Staring down at the hot chocolate that you’re clutching to your chest, soaking up its warmth, and avoiding his eyes. ‘You’re busy at the moment, stuff on your mind.’

‘It’s no excuse. I was rude. I’m sorry.’

You look back up; he’s staring down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. Oh, those hands - you daydream about how those hands would feel on your body.


‘Apology accepted. And, thank you.’ You hold up the mug. ‘How d’you know I love hot chocolate?’

‘Ah, ways and means, me.’ The DI straightens up, pushing his glorious backside off the desk. 'Listen, I really am sorry.'

Hesitating, he runs a hand through his beautifully disheveled hair, making it stick up even more. One simple gesture that has you all weak at the knees. But then that’s the effect this wonderful man has on you. You’re just hoping that it’s not obvious - how mortifying if he ever realised.

‘You’re forgiven.’


There’s a half smile playing across his lips and you feel like you're about to melt into an undignified puddle on the floor. You nod, taking a sip of the delicious hot drink to try and calm the hammering of your heart. His eyes find yours again. He doesn’t look away. There’s something hypnotic in his gaze; as he takes a step towards you, you find yourself doing exactly the same.

‘Listen, did you…’ Clearing his throat, Greg smiles shyly. ‘Would you like to go for a drink after work today. Just us? If you want to.’

Oh! He’s asking you out? Inspector Lestrade definitely just asked you out. There’s another mad flurry in your chest and a wobble in your knees. Taking a slow, deep breath, you smile back.

‘I’d like that.’

‘You would?’

‘Yes, I would.’

And he’s grinning like a school boy. ‘Great, that’s great. Say about 6.30? At the Bear and Ball?’

Nodding, you bring the cup back up to your lips, taking another slow and calming sip. Well, as calm as you can be under the circumstances; Greg’s walking back towards his office, his eyes still holding yours, his smile still making your heart thud.

Damn that sexy man!