Short, but finished....

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Lestrade gazed at the man sitting across from her with no slight trepidation. The music, the candlelight, the ritzy restaurant: all had to add up to something--despite the fact that she had vehemently protested when Deidre had come to the very same conclusion after being told about this dinner.

She nervously fiddled with the napkin in her lap and stared at anything and everything except him. She decided it would be better for her shattered nerves not to even think about what Deidre had conjectured. Zed that girl for putting such an idea in her head in the first place. Instead, she tried to occupy her mind with what she needed to get done tomorrow.

However, as the waiter arrived with the first course, she found that she couldn't ignore it any longer. Not with the way he kept sneaking glances and looking as nervous as she felt.

"So, Lestrade..."

She jumped at the sound of his voice and gazed up at him with wide-eyed apprehension, cursing herself for not appearing more collected.

"Something wrong?"

This time his voice was smug, matching the expression on his face. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, which only caused his smirk to grow all the more.

"As I was saying," he continued, "I have invited you here so that I can propose..."

Yep, it was exactly what Deidre had said the master criminal's intentions were when she had heard about the invitation. Never mind the fact that Holmes had also been invited. He had declined, so that he might better judge what Moriarty was up to with this. She should have listened--and she couldn't believe she was admitting this--to Deidre instead of Holmes.

"...a truce."

Lestrade blinked. "Wha?"

Moriarty raised an eyebrow. "I wish to propose a truce. I have grown weary of the constant battling between us. The Yard, Holmes and myself. I've grown bored."

"Oh."

Brilliant, Lestrade, she thought.

Moriarty appeared to be getting impatient. "Well? do we have an agreement or not?"

Lestrade swallowed, feeling lightheaded with relief, and extended her hand across the table. "Truce."

As they shook on it, and as a man with spaghetti all over his front placed his hand over theirs, Lestrade recalled one of Holmes' favorite admontions: "Never jump to conclusions without first garnering all the facts."

The End

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Okay, admit it....how many of you thought it was Holmes at first?

I know, it's another shorty, but it just begged to be written.

Jacob: *snort* You were feeling guilty about not finishing your other fics, and wanted to have something up.

Nobody asked you Jakey-wakey poo. *sighs* Why, when I ask for a muse, do I get one that totally disrespects me? Plot bunnies are much easier to manage.