Helping Greg

[smallhobbit]

Fandom: Sherlock bbc
Rating: PG
Characters:  Inspector Lestrade, John Watson
Word Count: 675
Note: Inspired by Rupert Graves role in "Mrs Dalloway"
Warning: Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall; Mrs Dalloway; mention of suicide
Greg Lestrade fails to turn up at the graveyard, so Mrs Hudson insists that John Watson checks up on him.

“I thought the Inspector was going to join us today,” Mrs Hudson remarked when John caught up with her as they left the graveyard.

“Yes, so did I.  I told him we were coming when I spoke to him last week and he said to let him know the time.  Mind you he didn’t reply to my text yesterday.”

“I think you should pop round and see him.”

“He might not want to see me.”

“He was always very conscientious.  If there had been a reason why he couldn’t make it, he would have let you know.  I think you should go round.”

*****

Lestrade left the second floor flat he was currently renting with the intention of going to the graveyard in response to John’s text.  He’d entered the tube station and taken the escalator down to the platform.  Doing his best to ignore the growing tension he waited, willing himself to stay calm, but when the packed train arrived and the other passengers surged forward to press their way on, he could not move with them and instead bolted for the exit.  He practically ran up the escalator and half fell through the exit barrier breathing heavily. 

Emerging from the tube station he took a couple of deep gulps of air and looked around.  Not wishing to go straight back to the flat he started to walk aimlessly, for once not fighting the thoughts as they tumbled over in his mind.  The episode in the tube station had been the last straw.  He’d always been slightly claustrophobic, hating being in a lift when it juddered between floors, but the stress of the last few months had clearly accentuated the fear: the divorce, the limited contact with his children; Sherlock’s death and the accompanying thoughts of what he could have done to prevent it; the investigation at work with the need for a fall guy regardless of how well the convictions were holding up.  He had nothing left to live for.

He slowly walked up the stairs and into the flat.  He pulled the door closed, half registering that the latch hadn’t caught again; not that it mattered, there was nothing of any value in the flat.  He wandered over to the window, opened it and looked down at the railings below.  How easy it would be to throw himself out of the window and onto the railings.  He climbed onto the window ledge.

*****

John reached Lestrade’s flat and knocked on the door.  It swung open; clearly the catch wasn’t working properly.  He entered and looked across at the window.

“No, Greg, not you too!”

*****

Lestrade turned at the sound of someone calling his name, to see John on his knees in the middle of the room.  Awkwardly he climbed down from the window sill and went over to him.  He tried to find something to say, but nothing even vaguely appropriate came to mind.  In the end he settled for putting his hands on the other man’s shoulders and was relieved when he stood up.

“Please, Greg, don’t ever even think of doing that again.”

“I’m sorry.  It just seemed as if there was nothing to go on for.”

“There’s always something.  Believe me I know, I’ve been there.”

Lestrade nodded.  He was aware that there were tears forming in his eyes and he was desperately hoping he wouldn’t break down in front of what was probably his last remaining friend.

“We’re invited to tea at Mrs Hudson’s and I’m here to make sure you come,” John continued.

“Please thank her, but I can’t.”

John looked at him as if he was waiting for an explanation.

“I – I tried to take the tube this morning to join you, but I bottled it.”

He looked at John, expecting to see the look of contempt he’d seen in so many people lately.  Instead of which he saw understanding and a half smile.

“In which case we will take the bus.  One way or another, Greg Lestrade, you and I are going to get through this.”