BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Lestrade: Superman

Thank you Fandom_beau for this amazing picture, and all the others ones. Much love.

Request for WhoLock_StarWars

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You awoke to the smell of musky laundry and rotten vegetables. You blinked your eyes hard, trying to adjust your vision to the darkness of the room. A red exit sign was blurry over the door that was stationed far in front of you. Eventually the sign became clear, and a lamp that was lit to your left provided a measly source to try and decipher your surroundings. You already knew you were tied down in a chair, you could feel the burn and resistance of the rope against your bare wrists and ankles.

However, you felt something touching your hands in the back - fingers. You craned your head around in the dark to see the little of what there was of light reflecting off of the silver hair of your beloved. Suddenly it all came crashing back in your mind - the night out at a restaurant, the call Greg got, him telling you to go home, you being stubborn and deciding to stay. You pushed your brain to remember anything, but it was all black. The last thing you remembered was running down a dark alley, of course, and you heard something behind you and turned around and someone hit you with a... frying pan?

You shook your thoughts away, knowing you were probably wrong. You shivered as you looked around the dark room, partly from getting the heebie jeebies and partly from the draft that was coming in from the door. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, so you began whispering Greg's name.

"Greg. Psst, Greg." No response. You wanted to just yell it, but you didn't know if the crazy who had tied you up would be able to hear you or not. "Greg!" you hissed again, but this time louder, and while pinching his hand.

He awoke with a slight jump, and you heard him yawn. "Oh honey, are you bringing me breakfast in bed?" he slurred, and you felt his head lull back against yours. You rolled your eyes and knocked your head against his, hopefully waking him up fully this time. "Ow (y/n), that hurt."

"Yeah well so do these ropes that are holding me hostage."

"You're tied up too? What kind of crazy things were we doing last night-"

"We're not in our bedroom Gregory," you grumbled. "We're friggin tied up in some creepy building."

It was like he suddenly realized what was going on, like he remembered too. "Did we get knocked out with a frying pan?"

"Oh so I wasn't losing my mind then, you remember too," you sighed. "So now what? How the hell are we going to get out of here without being knocked out by another kitchen utensil." Greg didn't answer, but you felt the swift movements of his fingers at work. "Untying it won't work."

"I know."

"So what are you doing then?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"Getting us out."

"And how-" You were interrupted by the sound of the chair behind you moving as Greg walked in front of you. It was hard to tell from the light, but it looked like he was holding a small pocket knife. "Where did you get that?"

He bent down and began working at cutting the ropes loose on your ankles, then switched to the ones binding your wrists. "Well, one day I was getting dressed for work and I felt something heavier than just a button in my sleeve against my arm. When I looked, a little pocket had been put in there and there was this small pocket knife. Moments later my phone buzzed and Sherlock asked if I liked what he had done to my wardrobe."