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Dogs & Detectives >> Greg Lestrade X Reader

Title: Dogs & Detectives

Paring: Greg Lestrade X Reader

Warnings: fluff, dogs, baby Watson, secret relationships - it's got it all!

Spoilers: set after Series 4.

Requested By: a pal on AO3

Part Two: look for Daughters & Dating in the chapter list, it's part two!

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All through your childhood, your mother would move you around the countryside. She said it was because she didn't like to sit still, but, it was for other reasons involving your manic father and whole custody of you. Nevertheless, you inherited her itchy feet. You never found a reason to stick around any town before coming to London; you were a dog trainer in the K9 units for Scotland Yard. But every other police station before London, they were missing a key ingredient that caused your heart to beat just a little faster.

Detective Inspector Lestrade. From what you heard over coffee with a handful of his detectives, he was fresh out of divorce two years ago, and has since been stagnating and putting a hundred percent of his life to work. He had a daughter, and a penchant for the occasional cigarette even though he quits every Friday. But when you first saw him, you felt your breath leave your body, and you were just standing in the foyer outside his office like a puppy that had forgotten its training.

"Officer ________," He greeted, seeing you through the crack of his office door, "Come in."

The rest, they say, is history.

Every day, you did your best to warm up to him, bringing coffees in the morning, positive results from your dogs in the afternoons he had a chance to chat. He was always off around the city in the police wagons, working with a private detective, who, unlike any other P.I. you encountered, was more of an ass than conceivable. But, within a year, you had worked your way into Gregory's heart, and in two, were considering moving in with each other.

"Greg," you moan, sipping a horrid red wine from the corner store, "This year's batch of dogs are wonderful, but..."

He glances up from the chopping board. It was a public holiday, and managing the night off, he insisted on making a fancy dinner for the both of you. It's his kitchen, his rules, but you know that if he stuffs up, he'll be buying fish and chips. "What is it?" He asks, frowning. "I thought you were Officer Midas, every dog you train turning to perfect scores."

"I thought I was too." you nod, placing your glass on the coffee table, and walk toward your boyfriend, "–there's this German Sheppard, and it's stubborn."

Greg smiles to himself, "Like you, I take?"

You wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head on his shoulder. "They want to adopt Patrick out," you ignore his quip, and with a sigh, you add, "I've never had a dog fail my training before, Greg...and Pat's the loveliest dog –,"

He pauses chopping the spring onions, turning to you. "You fell in love with a dog?" He asks.

You nod, beaming, "He's a nutter," you praise, "a good dog, but a laugh. He's only a puppy, so he'll need a good trainer, and I don't want anyone to take him." You plead. "I mean, anyone without a record could have him, but I can't picture anyone else taking Patrick."

"Yeah, okay."

You blink. "Just like that?" you ask.

Greg chuckles. "Yeah, just like that." He pecks you on the cheek, and glances to the clock. "Alright, I've got to get a move on if we want dinner before seven," he motions to the recipe perched against the windowsill, "what else does the quiche need?"