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Shiver

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"What the bloody hell is Holmes thinking?" Gregson grumbled, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his winter coat as he and Lestrade sat in the dark little tool shed that overlooked the house they were watching. "Wouldn't it make more sense to have you with a group of constables here, myself with another group elsewhere, and have a three point watch of this accursed place?"

"No, because that would draw attention. Are you going to grumble all night?" Lestrade growled at him through chattering teeth. The smaller inspector was visibly shivering, and the close quarters of the shed did not allow for Lestrade to move to generate body heat.

"I just might!" Gregson growled back, scowling at Lestrade. He could feel the smaller man's shivering from where he was sitting (not that it was very far), and it was getting on his nerves. "Why didn't you dress warmer?" he snapped, almost irrationally angry that Lestrade was so cold.

"This is the warmest I've got," Lestrade hissed, "Unless you would rather I be completely immobile and useless?"

"You're already useless, half frozen as you are," Gregson grumbled.

"Thank you so much for pointing that out, Gregson, I shall be sure to include it in my report," Lestrade snapped back, though his teeth were chattering so violently it was a wonder he did not bite through his tongue.

Gregson eyed Lestrade for a long moment before sighing, and began to unbutton his coat. "Come here."

"What?"

"Come here, I have an idea." He opened his coat. "My coat's big enough that you can fit as well, you know."

"You've got to be joking." Lestrade eyed him with distaste.

"Well, if you'd rather freeze and die from exposure, that's fine by me; one less nuisance about." Gregson still held his coat open. "But I'd rather not share such a small space with a corpse if it's all the same to you."

Lestrade eyed him for a long moment before moving closer to Gregson. "You will tell no one about this?"

"Why the bloody hell would I?" Gregson sighed and pulled Lestrade against him, wrapping his coat around the smaller man. "There." Lestrade's shivering was worse than Gregson had originally thought, and he wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

There was only one problem with his brilliant plan: Lestrade could not sit still to save his life.

He was constantly twitching and fidgeting and rubbing against Gregson in interesting ways. Gregson shut his eyes, willing himself not to be so affected by the smaller man, but he could smell the bite of winter and the scent of Lestrade's soap on the man, and Lestrade was always able to get under his skin...

"What the devil are you doing?!" Lestrade hissed, trying to pull away.

"It wouldn't be a bloody problem if you didn't wriggle about so much!" Gregson snapped back. "So hold still!"

Lestrade snarled, readying to shout at Gregson once more, and Gregson crushed his mouth to Lestrade's. They would have been discovered otherwise, he told himself in the back of his mind, even as the rest of him was screaming at him to stop, they were officers of the law, this was illegal!

Then Lestrade's began kissing him back, his gloved hands clutching at Gregson's back as Gregson held him tighter, licking and biting at Lestrade's lips as the little voice telling him that this was wrong was drowned out by the one that had wanted to do this since they were constables together.

Gregson had no idea how long they remained like that before Holmes' signal- a high, sharp whistle, sounded and they flung themselves away from each other, Gregson's coat hanging open and Lestrade pressed back against the far wall, his hand pressed to his mouth with a look of growing horror on his face.

"Let's go," Gregson snapped as he buttoned his coat and flung open the door to the shed, letting the frosty air hit him in the face before he ran through the snow toward Holmes. He could hear Lestrade running just a few steps behind him.

Their collar had been bagged and was in a cell, with Holmes looking particularly smug about the whole thing (something about imprints on a writing tablet and certain kinds of inks, Gregson had not paid attention to him), and all Gregson wanted to do was go home and pretend certain events of the night never happened.

He found himself alone with Lestrade, eying the smaller inspector with caution. "...Listen, Lestrade-"

"It can't happen again."

Gregson bristled. "I know that, I merely-"

"I want it to," Lestrade said, brutally honest even now, even with something like this that could cost them both everything.

Gregson watched him, waiting for him to continue. "Except...?" he prompted after a few moments, and Lestrade glared at him.

"We are both officers of the law, and we fight all the time, and-!"

"It's the perfect cover. No one would expect such behaviour from the likes of us. And if it doesn't work... it's not as though anyone would notice."

Lestrade wrapped his arms around himself. "And if it does?"

Gregson smirked and lit a cigarette. "Then we were fortunate enough to find someone who is sympathetic to a copper's work schedule."

Lestrade shook his head, laughing. "....So what now?"

"Now, we pick a place, and go there, and finish what we started." Gregson grinned at Lestrade around his cigarette. "Though my place would be better."

Lestrade bristled. "And why is that?"

"My maid is gone for the week." Gregson shrugged. "I've been picking up after myself and making my own way as far as meals go."

"Which means you've been eating out every night since she left." Lestrade nicked Gregson's cigarette and used it to light his own.

"Brilliant deduction, Inspector Lestrade," Gregson said in his best impression of Holmes, and stole back his cigarette. "Come, it's deucedly cold out, and I want to get a cab before you start shivering again."

Lestrade caught up to him in four strides, and they walked side by side into the night.