A/N: This chapter is in regular format, not dialogue only.


Greg Lestraude was finishing up his evening paperwork when Sherlock and John practically burst into his office. His suprise at seeing them doubled when he noticed how wrinkled and dirty their clothing was. He could see a few darkening bruises on them here and there and what appeared to be a purplish bump the size of a small rock on Sherlock's forehead.

"What happened to you two?" He motioned for them to sit but neither seemed inclined to do so remaining standing.

"Sherlock decided to insult a high-ranking Russian mobster." John half-heartedly glared at his lanky companion who shrugged and said,

"I wasn't expecting him to lock us up under a stairwell John."

Greg ran a hand over his face in disbelief, these two got into some ridiculous scrapes, "Why didn't you call for help?"

"Sherlock left his phone at home on the coffee table and when I was going to meet him I got hit by a bicyclist and dropped my phone into the Thames."

"Are you both ok?" Greg could have slapped himself, clearly they weren't alright, they looked battered.

"We'll be fine after we get home and shower and maybe get some decent rest." John just gave him a tired grin, "We only spent nine or so hours in the closet."

Greg felt his eyes widen slightly, "How small was it?"

"Roughly two feet long and one foot wide." Sherlock leaned against the chair looking like a very dirty vulture.

"Holy..." Greg let out a low whistle, "I would have gone mad, I'm suprised you guys didn't."

"You think a little time locked in a closet together could drive either of us mad?" John raised an eyebrow and Greg just laughed.

"Good point, you're both looney already."

"Hey, watch it." John growled as he stretched the kinks out of his back.

"Well it's true." Greg ducked as John swung a playful fist towards him.

Sherlock tapped John on the shoulder, "Still want to go to Angelo's?"

"At eleven thirty at night? He's probably not open Sherlock."

"It's a Saturday, he'll be open until midnight."

"You think anyone is going to let you into a restaruant looking like that?" Greg snorted slightly.

The pair exchanged small grins and said simultaneously, "Angelo won't care."

Greg shook his head, "Whatever, get out of here you two. I want you guys in here tomorrow for statements though alright?"

"We were going to give you our statements tonight, that's why we stopped by."

"I'm too tired to take it tonight and I can hear your guys' stomachs from here."

John looked down at his stomach sheepishly as it let out another low growl, "I am a bit hungry."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Just a bit?"

"Ok, how about a lot hungry." John grinned.

"Let's get out of here, see you in the morning Lestraude." With a wave Sherlock swept out of the room with John in tow leaving Greg once again to his paperwork.

(_) (_)

Angelo just waved them inside with a smile when he saw them pause at the threshold hurrying over he took in their ragged appearances and tired but relieved faces.

"Sherlock, John, how good it is to see you two!" He guided them to their favorite booth and looked from one to another before asking, "Would you like the usual or something different this evening?"

"We'll both take a dish of your fantastic lasagna and an extra side of bread sticks please." Sherlock ordered quickly for both of them without even looking at the menu's on the table.

"Of course Sherlock, anything for you my friend." Angelo bustled off to the kitchen to oversee preparation of their food.

John looked at his friend, "It seems he forgot the candle this time." Sherlock just grinned and pointed at Angelo who was hurrying back with a thick white candle.

"I almost forgot, here you boys go." With one last smile Angelo left to go make sure everything went smoothly in the kitchen.

John shook his head, "And here I thought he had forgotten, oh well."

"What, you don't want a nice romantic dinner?" Sherlock narrrowly dodged the balled up napkin that flew his way and retaliated with a napkin ball of his own which bopped John on the nose.

"Let's call this a celebratory dinner, for the fact that we both finally got out of that stupid closet." John raised his glass in a mock toast and smiled as Sherlock followed suit.

"To getting out of the closet."


A/N: And there you go folks, Conversation Under a Stairwell is officially over. Thanks for reading, reviewing and favoriting this story all those things make my day.

^_^ KB