Asexual! Sherlock x Lestrade- Clouded Sunshine

It's always good to have some more help down at the station. In the cruel world that we live in, so many horrible people exist. It's almost impossible to get rid of all the hatred and suffering, even for a second.
That's why I was always glad to come home. Now I could come home to sunshine, even though it was already nighttime. After a hard day, it's nice to come home to my Sunshine.

After the Reichenbach Fall, John had gotten married, and three years later, Sherlock had returned from the dead. He lives with me now, like he has for a year now. He came back in autumn. And when he did come back, he was weak, sick, and didn't do much. He was sensitive to everything, including touch. During the winter he would open the window and let the chill into my flat. He seemed so lost for so many months. But like the change from winter to spring, he got better and was renewed to his original self, only a little different than before.

Yes, I am fond of him. I believe he is fond of me as well. He hasn't said otherwise. With all the time I spent with him I never got around to hold him close. I've been able to hold his hand and to kiss his forehead slightly once when he was asleep. But it had been so long since I'd been able to do these things.
If anything, I didn't want to hurt him in any way, so sex was out of the question. I couldn't scar him like that. I didn't want anyone to hurt him.


His name was Lance Meyerson. He had just started as a Detective Inspector like myself, and I could already tell he was a social butterfly. He always was talking to someone.
He was a lanky fellow, about the same age as Sherlock,  who had light brown hair and wore rectangular glasses. He seemed like he used to be an awkward guy, but honestly, I was bad at first impressions. I really didn't know what to make out of this man.
He came into my office one day, just for a talk, I suppose.
"So you're in charge around here?" Meyerson asked me.
"Yes, that's me," I replied.
"Should I be afraid?"
"Very." I laughed. He was the kind of guy to take a good joke, so he laughed with me.

Then he noticed the picture frame on my desk. He picked it up and looked at it.
"Who's this?" he asked. I looked at the picture frame. The photo inside it was one I truly liked, although when I took it, I was sad.
It was a photo of Sherlock. I had taken it some time after he had come back to me, after Reichenbach.
I remember taking the photo. He had opened the window, although it was winter, and it was really cold. He was wrapped in a blanket, his ivory skin paler than ever. His gaze was a thousand miles away. His eyes were blank, like they were lost, longing for something. And the sun had hit his face just right. It was so beautiful, I couldn't help but take a picture.
"He's a friend," I replied to Meyerson. "A really good friend."

One day Sherlock was bored from staying in the flat for so long, so he came into the station to surprise me for lunch (this was rare, since Sherlock didn't eat much anyway). I walked out of the station to find him there, smiling, his hair flowing in the winter wind. I smiled back and we walked to lunch, but once we did, he slipped on a patch of ice. I caught him before he fell to the icy ground.
"Gotcha, Sunshine," I said, lifting him back on his feet again. Sherlock looked at me, then he looked over my shoulder with concern. I turned around to see Meyerson standing there, glaring at us. Then he turned and walked away.
"Who's he?" Sherlock asked.
"He's new," I replied, putting my hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "He probably doesn't understand a lot."
"So he's an idiot like Anderson?"
"I don't know, Sunshine. He probably would be if you met him." Sherlock laughed at my comment, and we headed for lunch.

A couple days later, I was with Sherlock at the station in my office. John Watson joined us. We were discussing a murder case of sorts. I was for sure Sherlock would figure it out in a matter of minutes. He loved these sort of things, and he had been out of work for so long, even though everyone found out about his fake suicide and he was proven alive.
That's when Meyerson walked in.
"Morning, sir," he said to me. I simply nodded. After the day he glared at me and Sherlock, I had mixed feelings about him. Like I said, I make bad first impressions. He looked at Sherlock and then bent down to whisper something in Sherlock's ear. Then he left.
"What did he just say?" John asked. Sherlock didn't answer. He just got up and headed for the door. But I stopped him.
"Sherlock," I said, "we still need to discuss this murder case. We won't talk about what just happened if you don't want to. Alright?" Sherlock sighed and sat back down, and we continued with our discussion like nothing had happened.

That night, I worked late. Sherlock volunteered to stay at the station until I was done. I told him he could as long as he didn't cause trouble. When I hear that aloud, I sound like a parent.
I walked back and forth all night. Sherlock stayed in the same place all day. Meyerson would pass sometimes, smiling at Sherlock.
And when I was almost done for the day, I saw Meyerson come up to Sherlock.
"Hey, Sunshine," he said mockingly. Sherlock looked at the DI like he was crazy. Meyerson put his arm around Sherlock's shoulder.
"So how is he, Sunshine?" he asked. "I bet he treats you like a celebrity, catering to your every whim." Sherlock didn't reply to him. This was unusual, because he always had the last word.
"You ever see that picture in his office? He's crazy bout you! Bet he really likes you. You're so tiny compared to him now, am I right? Is he any good in bed, Sunshine? Hm?" I had to put a stop to all of this. But I freeze when I hear what is said next.
"He hasn't..." Sherlock begins to say, uncomfortable.
"Oh, he hasn't? Well, that's what he wants, isn't it? That's all men like Lestrade want anyway... You disgust me. Both of you, being all gay and wrong in society. You're a freak, Sunshine. Why don't you go die again?"
I came up to Meyerson at that moment and grabbed his arm and took it off of Sherlock's shoulder.
"Stop it, Meyerson," I said.
"Oh, look, Sunshine, your prince is here to fight your fights. How sad." I turned Meyerson's arm to his back. He winced in pain, but kept laughing.
"Aggressive," he said. "Why put this guy through all this, Lestrade? How the hell can you call him 'Sunshine?' He's nowhere near that. He's more like an omen. He's making you into a freak, Lestrade. I'm only trying to help you!"
Sherlock walked quickly out the door. I let go of Meyerson and headed after him, calling for him. But once I got outside, he was gone.

As I walked home from the station that night, I passed by a window that displayed these little caramel chocolates. I decided to get them as a little treat for Sherlock when I got home. I didn't really know what Sherlock liked. He didn't eat much, and he didn't tell me anything like that. I had a bad feeling that he wasn't home. I feared that he had gone away again, like he did in Reichenbach, and I would never see him again. I feared the loss of sunshine.
I walked into my flat to find him sitting on the floor near the window, like he used to. The window was open. I smiled. It sure took me back. He didn't move when I walked in. He just sat there, unmoving. His gaze was blank. I placed the caramel chocolates on the counter and hung up my coat. I sat on the couch and watched Sherlock, deep in thought, so still, so beautiful. I looked at his face, and they had tear marks. He had been crying.
"Sherlock," I said in a quiet voice, "don't believe anything that Meyerson said. Its all a bunch of God-damn lies. He's an idiot, like you said. I should've stopped him, but..." Sherlock looked at me with a face of content. I couldn't believe it. How could he look at me like that after what he had heard? I got up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen. He got up and followed me from a distance.

I looked over at the chocolates I had gotten, and I opened the box to see what they looked like. They were flat oval shapes, like cookies, but they were merely chocolate with caramel in the middle. I took one out and looked at it. Then I saw a hand reach and break off half of it. I looked and saw it was Sherlock.
"Hey!" I said with a smile. "That was mine!" Sherlock quickly walked the other way, but I caught him and hugged him from the back. Sherlock had a fit of laughter as I had him in my grip. I couldn't help but laugh myself. I could hold him tightly again.

"I don't want sex," I told him later when we were sitting on the couch. I had wrapped Sherlock in a blanket, and he put his feet up on the couch. "I can't hurt you like that. Understand that, alright? Sex isn't worth hurting you." Sherlock nodded.
"It's alright," he said. Then after a while, he added, "Greg? What do you think Meyerson's deal is?"
"I told you, he's an idiot. He probably thought we were homosexual freaks. He's a real jerk. I should consider firing him... What did he say to you earlier today?"
"He said, 'He doesn't care about you, Sunshine...' Are we homosexual freaks, Greg?" Sherlock looked at me like he was about to cry. I put my arm around him and held him tight, kissing the top of his head.
"Not in my book we are," I said.
"Then what are we?" Sherlock asked.
"I guess... We're simply in love, Sunshine." Sherlock clung onto my shirt and closed his eyes. I smiled as I patted his head with the hand I had around him. Then a question came to mind.
"Sherlock, do you ever miss living with John?"
"Sometimes," he replied. "But he's married now. And here I am, with you."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"No... You know what I realized? I think we're both happy like this. It's not the same like it was before. Sometimes I want to go back to times like that. But then I miss times like this. I'm not saying John lives better than I do. I'm saying that I think we're in the same place..."
I smiled again. I knew what he meant by that. And it surprised me somewhat. He wasn't really concerned with relationships beforehand. He probably had a change of heart after Reichenbach. Well, I remember John told me once that Mycroft had told him that we didn't know what to deduce about his heart. But at that moment, I think I had a pretty clear idea of what to deduce...