A few more confessions than expected

"No but you don't understand Martha. They are just ... I don't know ... They are not perfect or anything but ... they are ..."
The Scotland Yard's detective inspector was sat in the grass, in the garden, nearby the bench were Sherlock's landlady was sat, listening to him. He had had a few more drinks than what would have been considered as appropriated and was now discoursing in a completely unusual way to the older woman.
"But she is appealing in your eyes." Mrs Hudson finished his sentence.
"Yes ! Yes ! Exactly." exclaimed Greg with a wild gesture of the hand which was not holding his glass. "I mean, look at them, their eyes ... Their little chubby curl ..."
"Gregory dear, are you sure it's reasonable for you to keep drinking." wondered the landlady, smiling shyly to the policeman. "It's just that I've never heard you talk like this before."
"Do you think I should tell them this ?" the detective asked, completely ignoring the question he himself had been asked and in fact taking a long gulp of his whisky.
"Yes. Of course, you should ! You seem very keen on this person, it would be a mistake not to at least try." retorted the old woman deciding that the inspector's headache-to-come was probably none of her business and that it was a wedding, and what's the use of weddings if it's not to get drunk ?
"Do you think I should send them flowers or that would be to old-school ?" wondered the man, looking at her and trying to focus on her face while his eyes were definitely much more keen to go each in a different direction.
"I suppose it depends on the type of person she is. You know, some of us like old-school, especially when it comes to relationship." replied the lady, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder to help him keep his balance.
"Why do you keep saying 'she' ?" suddenly questioned the policeman after a few seconds of silence where he had attempted – and failed – to raise up in order to sat on the bench better than on the floor.
"Are you saying it's not a 'she' ? That's quite of surprise ..." Mrs Hudson retorted hastily.
"Is it ?" wondered Greg. "I thought you were all about making queer couple with every one ..."
Both of them laughed greatly, the landlady having herself had a bit more drinks that what she was used to and feeling quite happy because of it. It was fairly true that the older woman was quite keen on considering every one more or less queer without actually asking, and most of the time not really believing their protests, but weirdly Greg was one of the very few she had never doubted of his heterosexuality. That may come from the fact that he was already married -and still happily – at the time she met him or that he seemed to show quite a lot of interest in the young Molly Hooper at one of their past Christmas parties but she had never thought he could one day be fancying a man.
"So is he is one of the old-fashion type ?" she asked once they had caught up their breath, insisting on the 'he'.
"Oh yes, very. In fact, he is Mr Old-Fashion himself." the yarder replied before drinking another gulp of his whisky and nearly chocking himself with the liquid.
"Are you all right dear ?" the landlady wondered, slapping him gently on the back.
"Yes, all fine." the detective reassured her, showing her a thumb up before laughing like a fool.
"Really Gregory dear, I think you should put this drink down ..." the woman tried again before grabbing the glass herself and putting it out of the reach of the inspector.
"Hey ..." the man protested. "I haven't finished !"
"So, you were saying he was old-fashion." Mrs Hudson continued to divert him from the drink. "You should definitely send him flower then, with a little card enclosed. Or a box of chocolate. Do he like chocolate ?"
"Oh sure he does. But he thinks he is fat so he won't eat it." savagely nodded the DI.
"Yeah, so flowers might be better. You don't want to tempt them if they are insecure about something, do you ? What kind of flower does this young man would like ?" agreed the landlady.
"The hell would I know ? I've never seen anyone sending him flowers before. But he got such a fantastic arse damn ..." retorted the policeman, his eyes now starring absentmindly at a statue at the far end of the garden.
"I don't doubt that darling." the older woman replied, patting her friend on the shoulder gently. "If you don't know you should go with roses. Everyone like roses. Red roses. That's sensual."
"And his face. You should see his face. To snog off really." added the man not listening to the lady anymore.
"Right. You really do like this man." nodded Mrs Hudson, smiling genuinely, quite excited herself by the idea of a new romance to witness. "In fact, I don't know who it is, but he is a lucky man."
"Flowers ..." repeated the DI, only acknowledging the woman's earlier's words. "How am I suppose to send flower to Mycroft Bloody Holmes ?"
The landlady instantly turned her face to her friend, shocked by what she just had heard. "Mycroft Holmes, have you just said the man you are talking to me to and who you would like to snog fiercely is Mycroft Sherlock's-Older-Brother Holmes ?"
Greg didn't had the time to answer before the two of them were interrupted by John coming to inform them a taxi was waiting for them at the property's entrance. Helping his mate to the vehicle, John paid a goodnight to his former landlady and the cab wasn't even moving yet that the detective was already sleeping, his nose pressed weirdly against the glass.

The detective grunted and turned on himself, trying to avoid the ray of sunshine that the curtains were letting through. His head was painful s hell and he had the feeling someone had punched each and every part of his body. It takes him several minutes before remembering what he had been up to one the night before and he just had figured it out when he noticed the sound of someone hoovering somewhere near. Who the hell was hoovering ? He lived alone and certainly couldn't effort a housekeeper so there was no reason for this sound to come from anywhere near him if he wasn't hoovering himself. Was it an hallucination ? It really didn't seem like it.
The question was soon answered when he heard the sound of someone climbing steps – he haven't got steps at his place – and calling out his name.
"Gregory dear ? Are you awoken ? I think there was something for you in the post, it's waiting for you downstairs" a familiar woman's voice informed him while handling him a glass of water and an aspirin.
"Mmm .. Thank you, Mrs Hudson ..." nodded the inspector, opening his eyes and sitting up and feeling even worse than he had felt before. He drank the aspirin and seized his phone to check the time in the pocket of his jacket which was laying on the armrest of the couch, near to his feet. He was to put it back where it belongs when he noticed that he had a text. Curious, he unlocked the device.
'D.I. Lestrade, I have been informed by a relatable source that – and I quote – you think my arse is "fantastic" and that you would very much "snog my face off". Although I quite agree, perhaps we should meet for dinner first before acting so hastily ? -MH PS : Someone told me everybody loves red roses.'

Here you go Ellie, hope you enjoyed it, can't wait to read yours ... ♥♥

Dan