The Homeless Man

[smallhobbit]

Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters: Greg Lestrade, John Watson
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,850
Notes: Written because today is Rupert Graves' 49th birthday.  Beta-ed by my good friend jinxed100
Based on the following prompt:


Sometime after "the fall," John stumbles across Lestrade in an unlikely situation - as a homeless man, perhaps, or in some other guise. WTF? It turns out that Lestrade has accepted an undercover assignment in order to return to the Yard (where he's still held in suspicion) and have access to his files. He wants to clear Sherlock's name, and this is the only way he can do it, the only way his "leave of absence" will be ended.

John protests that whatever role he's taken is suicide: Lestrade's face is too well known (newspapers, press conferences) for his disguise to work. Lestrade knows this, but he feels he has no other choice. In essence, he's taking a suicide mission in hopes he can figure out what happened to Sherlock before the criminals get him.

John helps Lestrade in a protective way, and the two grow closer; both believe in Sherlock, and both are lonely in this belief. Friendship or slash, whatever you like...

Dr John Watson had left the surgery and was heading back to his flat one Monday afternoon when he felt someone tugging at his arm.  He turned to look at the young man and recognised him as someone who had belonged to Sherlock’s homeless network. 

“Can you come with me, Doc?  There’s a geezer what needs a bit of help,” the young man said.

“Why doesn’t he go to the drop-in clinic?”

“He says he can’t.  I’ve not seen him around before.  Please Doc, just come and take a look at him.  He’s not after drugs, it’s nothing like that.”

John sighed.  In the three months since Sherlock’s death he’d been approached for help a few times by members of the homeless network.  Normally all he could do was recommend that they go to A&E, which he was fairly sure they didn’t do; but on a couple of occasions he’d managed to do some minor repairs.  Accordingly he followed the lad down a back street to find a man in a grubby raincoat lying curled up in a corner next to some dustbins.

He bent down and gently pulled the coat collar off the man’s face.  “Oh!”

“You okay, Doc?” the lad asked.

“Yeah, for a minute I thought this was someone I recognised.  Er, someone I knew in Afghanistan.”

“There are a few ex-soldiers around.”

“I was mistaken.  Look, why don’t you go and get yourself something to eat.  I’ll see what I can do here.”  John fumbled in his pocket and gave the lad a handful of change.

“Cheers, you’re a good ‘un,” the lad replied before heading off, rattling the money in his hand.

John watched until the lad had gone round the corner and then knelt down in front of his patient.  “Hell, Greg, what have you done to yourself?”

“’M okay, just leave me.”

“I’m not leaving until I’ve cleaned you up a bit and checked you over.”

“I’m under cover,” Greg groaned as he sat up.  “You shouldn’t be seen with me.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t blow your cover.  It’s not the first time I’ve tended a dosser round here in the last few months; no-one will suspect anything.  So what’s going on?”

“I’m trying to find out exactly what happened in those last few days.  I know Sherlock wasn’t a fake, whatever anyone may think.  There’s some talk that there are people who know more than they’re saying, but the only way to find them is by taking to the streets.  I said I’d do it.”

“But surely you’ll be recognised; you were in the papers.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“If these people are as desperate as I think they may be that’s an awfully big risk.”

“I’m expendable.”

“Well, look, if there’s anything I can do, you know my new address, come and find me.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Greg pulled his coat collar up again and lay down behind the dustbin.  John stood up and as he started to leave, Greg added, “Thank you.  You’re a good bloke, John Watson.”

#####

The following evening John was in his flat, reading a magazine and listening to the rain hammering on the window when he heard someone banging on his front door.  He wasn’t expecting anyone; the regular canvassers tended to ignore his basement flat, preferring instead to call at the main door, and as far as he was aware few people knew where he had moved to.  Cautiously he opened the door and saw Greg standing, dripping on the doorstep.

“Can I come in for a few minutes, just to warm up a bit?” Greg asked.

“Yes, of course.  I’ll put the kettle on.” 

John led the way into the kitchen and took a proper look at the other man.  “Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll do you something to eat?  I’ve got a baggy t-shirt and joggers you can borrow whilst we get your stuff dry.”

Greg looked as if he was going to object, but John assumed his best I-was-a-Captain-in-the-army expression and he nodded in agreement.

Once Greg had showered and was sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating baked beans on toast, John continued his offensive.  “This rain’s going to continue for hours yet.  You might as well grab some kip in my bed and I’ll sleep on the settee.”

“I’ll be okay.  I can’t afford to blow my cover.”

“If you leave early tomorrow no-one will know where you’ve been.  And if you go back out tonight and give yourself pneumonia, or worse, you won’t be in any position to get the information you need.”

John could see Greg’s resolve waning, so made himself a bed on the settee and wished the other man good night.  When he woke early the following morning he was not surprised to see that Greg had already left.  He read the note on the kitchen table ‘You’re more than just a good bloke, you’re a good friend.’

#####

By the time Friday evening arrived John was very glad the week had come to an end.  The surgery had been busy; it seemed as if most of his patients had come in with one problem only to reveal a second more serious condition, the reception was short-staffed and therefore those that were there were bad tempered and the locum had left early which meant her appointments had to be shared amongst the other doctors so everyone was running late.  John was relieved that he wasn’t working on the Saturday morning.  He stopped at the chippie at the end of the road and bought himself a large cod and chips for tea, knowing that what he didn’t eat that evening he would microwave for lunch the next day.

He walked slowly down the steps to his flat and started when he noticed someone standing in the shadows by his front door.

“Sh*t Greg, what are you doing there?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.  I was recognised this afternoon and had to find somewhere close to hide.”

John unlocked his front door and they went inside.  “Do you think you were followed?”

“No, the bloke who saw me was in a car and I slipped down an alley way before he could do anything.  But I’m sure he’ll be looking for me now.  If I could just wait here until it gets dark it should be safe for me to move on then.”

“It seems to me that if no-one knows you’re here then it would be much safer for you to remain in my flat.  And if you pass me those plates I can share out the fish and chips.  Would you like a beer or shall I put the kettle on?”

“I can’t put you to all that trouble.  But a beer would be nice.”

“It’s no trouble.  I shall be glad of your company.”

When they’d finished eating John took another couple of beers out of the fridge and they moved into the living room.  He switched the television on and they sat companionably side by side on the settee.  Gradually they moved closer together until Greg fell asleep with his head on John’s shoulder. 

After a while John nudged him awake.  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to move you, my shoulder’s getting very stiff.”

“I’ll be off now.”

“I thought we’d agreed that it would be best if you stayed.”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind.  But on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I sleep on the settee this time.”

“Accepted.”

#####

In the early hours of the morning John awoke to find a cup of tea by his bed and an anxious looking Greg hovering near by.

He rubbed his eyes.  “I’ve been having nightmares again, haven’t I?”

“Yeah.  I wasn’t sure what to do; you were very distressed.”

“I started having them after Afghanistan.  They had become much less frequent, until, well,  you know ..”

“I understand.  Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really.”

John began to shake; it was almost like the aftershock following an earthquake.  Greg did the only thing he could think of, put his arms around his friend and encouraged him to lie down.  Slowly John stopped shaking and the two of them fell asleep together.

They spent the Saturday morning mooching around the flat with Greg helping John with his household chores.  There were occasions when their hands touched and neither made any hurried attempt to move away.  At lunchtime Greg hunted through the cupboards and cooked them both a pasta dish.  In the afternoon John left Greg in the flat whilst he went out to do some food shopping.  He also nipped into a couple of charity shops to buy Greg some more clothes.  In one the elderly female assistant queried the size he had selected, but his response that they were gardening clothes for his brother was readily accepted.

In the evening they once again sat on the settee to watch the television.  Tentatively John put his arm around Greg, who took the opportunity to move closer into his chest.  Neither spoke, but they sat cuddled together enjoying a closeness that they hadn’t enjoyed for a long time.

Eventually John yawned and said “I’m going to have to go to bed.”

“I could come with you, if that was okay.  I don’t have to.  I just thought ..”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m not suggesting ..”

“I understand.  Just sleep.”

#####

On Sunday afternoon Greg said “I have to go and meet my contact to report in.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“We’re meeting in the Red Lion.  I’ll be fine.”

“In which case I’m definitely coming with you.  Those guys could still be looking for you and from what you’ve told me they could well be checking out the pubs.  You’ll stand out as a single bloke.  If we go as two mates out for a drink together they’re much less likely to notice you.”

“If you’re sure.  But it could be dangerous.”

“Since when has that ever stopped me?”

They reached the pub about ten minutes before Greg’s check-in time.  John went to buy two pints whilst Greg found a table in the corner. 

John carried the beers over.  “Do you know who your contact is?”

“No, I was just told when and where to be.  Whoever comes will recognise me.”

John glanced across at the bar and saw Dimmock buying a pint.  He watched as the inspector walked over to join them.

“Good news, Lestrade.  We picked up the two men you described to us this morning and followed up that other lead, and have received some extremely useful information.  So much so, that the powers-that-be have decided that you may return to work tomorrow.  So, when you’ve finished your pint, I’ll give you a lift back to your flat.”

“That’s excellent news.  And thank you for your offer of a lift, but I’ve already made plans for this evening.”

John felt Greg squeeze his knee under the table and smiled back at him.  He was looking forward to the evening.