A/N: so here's another little bonus chapter. This one is strictly Salstrade (Sally/Lestrade), set well before the beginning of "Torn", for anyone who's interested in how those two became romantically involved. Hard T on this one for Bad Language and sexual situations.

"So, the wife finally kicked you out, yeah?"

Lestrade leaned back against the corner of the building, took a deep drag off his cigarette and let it out in a stream of smoke before answering. "Yeah."

He watched Donovan out of the corner of his eye, noting the disapproving glance she gave his cigarette. He knew she hated them, called them cancer sticks and told him they'd kill him someday, but he was too addicted to give them up. Besides, stress was more likely to kill him, or a robbery gone wrong…or Sherlock fucking-crime-lord Holmes. Cigarettes were a balm to his troubled soul, along with a few pints at the end of the day. Sex had once been part of his relaxation routine, but since his soon-to-be ex-wife had started fucking their son's football coach, well, his own right hand had starting getting a regular workout. It wasn't nearly as good as actual sex – he'd never been one to prefer a wank to the real thing – but since he wasn't the type to fool around even on an unfaithful wife, it had been his only option.

Now, however, with the missus telling him she needed a man who would be home at night, working a regular job and available on weekends and holidays, all bets were off. Yeah, he and Marian had been dancing this dance for the last five years of their marriage, but this time was different.

This time, he was tired of the lies and the half-arsed promises and the affairs.

This time, he was ready for a change.

"Wanna grab a pint?" he asked, fully expecting to be turned down. Donovan was fifteen years younger than he was, a damn beautiful woman, and he was her boss. If any other man at NSY asked a subordinate out and she turned him down, make sure to get back at her. But Donovan knew he wasn't like that; he prided himself on managing to hold onto some form of integrity in spite of the fucked up world they lived in. If she wanted to say no, she'd say no and there would be no repercussions. Except him drinking alone, of course, but he was used to that. The only other DI he got along with outside of work was Dimmock and the two of them rarely got off shift at the same time these days. Lestrade would suspect it was deliberate if it wasn't for the fact that he knew what their respective caseloads were like.

And if, on the wildly unlikely chance she said yes, he'd know it wasn't because she was looking to sleep herself into a promotion or a favored position; it would be because she actually wanted…

"Yeah."

Lestrade sucked in a startled breath, which unfortunately included the cloud of smoke he'd just exhaled; coughed, coughed again, and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth as he heard Donovan snickering. He dropped the butt to the pavement and ground it out beneath his heel as she came closer, stopping in front of him, arms crossed over her chest and those gorgeous brown eyes gazing steadily at his. "Say that again," he rasped, wiping a hand across his mouth and wishing desperately that he had a mint or a stick of gum, anything to cover his cigarette-and-coffee breath.

Donovan – Sally – uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, turning her head at the last second and putting her lips next to his left ear. "I said, 'yeah'," she breathed, and he felt those lovely lips close around his earlobe and knew he was going to kiss her, right there in the parking garage below NSY, where anyone could walk in on them, and that he didn't give a fuck how it would look.

She turned her head, her hands landing on his shoulders as he pulled her close, their mouths meeting with a passionate desperation that he hadn't felt in years. Kissing Marian had become mechanical, something he just did, but kissing Sally was like being back at the Academy, when he'd been in his twenties and still had some real optimism about the future.

Kissing Sally was like suddenly finding hope again.

oOo

She hadn't planned this, kissing Greg, no matter how long she'd been thinking about doing just that. He was a good guy, sure, and she was attracted to him for that as much as for his wry smile and craggy features, his prematurely grey hair and warm brown eyes. Oh, that fit body he kept up wasn't difficult to notice, either, but it was his kindness that had first caught her attention, made her see him as something other than yet another male obstacle to the future she'd mapped out for herself.

Taking things further was dangerous for both of them, for very different reasons, but she found herself with a completely reckless 'fuck everyone else' attitude at the moment. Yes, she could damage her own prospects by appearing to take the same route so many other women in her position were forced into – screwing the boss to get ahead – and yes, Greg might get a lot of shit for sleeping with her since she was black and too many people in the force resented her because of the color of her skin. And there were a few hypocrites who would hassle him because he was married, even as they went off to shag their own mistresses. But if Greg was worried about it then he'd put on the brakes, she knew she could trust him to do that much.

And if it turned out to fuck up her own chances of being more than just a glorified coffee-fetcher for the other officers she worked with? Screw them. Greg Lestrade was worth any ten of the other assholes the two of them worked with, and she'd already hitched her wagon to his star as far as her career was concerned.

Besides, the two of them worked really well together, well enough that she was willing to risk taking this sort of chance with him, even if only for one night. With those thoughts running at lightning speed through her mind, Sally deepened the kiss, letting Greg know without words exactly how far she was willing to take this, and silently hoping he would be willing to go just as far.

An hour later they were back at hers, the only thing between them a rapidly decreasing layer of clothes. Half an hour after that they were lying next to one another, glowing with sweat, sated and more than a bit pleased with how loudly they'd made one another moan.

Greg made as if to grab a cigarette, then hesitated, glancing over at Sally. She sighed and waved permission, making sure to scoot as far to the opposite side of the bed as she could while he sucked on his stupid fucking cancer stick. They should make the cigarette companies put warning labels on the damn things, but the advertisers blocked any kind of movement in that direction and probably always would.

After he finished she took it from him, reaching over to drop it in the half-empty glass of water she'd left on her nightstand. smiled up at her and pulled her down for a lingering kiss. "That," he said when the kiss ended, "was fucking amazing. How did I get so lucky, hmm? A woman with looks, brains and ambition?"

"Don't forget my killer blowjob," Sally teased.

Greg's eyes rolled upward and he collapsed his head on the pillow in exaggerated exhaustion. "Yeah, about that…next time warn a bloke, eh? This was almost over before I was half-started!"

"Well, you did a nice job of returning the favor," Sally reminded him, humming in remembered pleasure. "God, the things you can do with your tongue!"

They might have gone on for a bit longer in post-coital bliss, just savoring the moment, but both her and Greg's mobiles abruptly went off. "Fuck," he said succinctly after he fished it out of his trouser pocket. "That bastard Holmes' has done it again. Fished a body out of the Thames – one of ours," he added grimly.

Sally's phone had said pretty much the same thing, an unhappy reminder for the two of them that all happiness was fleeting at best. "So much for being off duty," she grumbled as she stood up and started redressing herself. Greg quickly joined her, pulling her close for another kiss first.

"Yeah, well, maybe we can…do this again, sometime? Maybe with dinner first, or, I dunno, a walk in the park? The one with the barbed wire on the top of the stone wall by St. Bart's isn't too bad, they keep the derelicts and drug dealers rousted most days."

Sally met his gaze unflinchingly. "Yeah, that sounds good," she said, pecking him on the lips and then bending down to grab her bra. She heard him stifle a groan and grinned to herself; it might be a dangerous thing they were doing, trying to grab happiness in a miserable, broken excuse for a world, but if danger scared them, they wouldn't be coppers.

And maybe, just maybe, this time that wanker Holmes had made a mistake, the kind that they could use to send his sorry, psychopathic ass to jail, even get him the death penalty.

After all, a girl could dream. And with Greg as her partner and lover? Well, her dreams just got a little closer to coming true.