When You Need a Helping Hand
Day 4 -Just One Of The Blokes (Fanworks focusing on Molly's relationships with male characters in Sherlock)
"Detective Lestrade!" Molly exclaimed as he pushed through the morgue door. She took a brief second to note that he was alone, and quickly fought down the tiny blip of disappointment that accompanied that observation.
"I told you, it's Greg." He flashed a wide smile at her.
"Right, right. Old habits and all that." She sheepishly returned his smile. "What can I do for you today, Greg?"
He pulled a small notebook out of his coat pocket and flipped it open. "We sent a suspicious death in last night, hit and run. Sarah Walen."
Her brows furrowed as she ran a mental inventory of the cooler residents. "She was on Sanders' list, I believe. Do you need to see the file?"
"Yeah. Sherlock sent a list of stuff I'm supposed to ask about." Greg leaned back against the closest wall, then jerked forward when he caught a cooler handle in the small of the back. He glared at it, then scooted a step over and tried again. "Do you mind giving it a look over for me? Make sure Sanders did his proper due diligence to his Majesty's specifications."
Molly half-laughed half-snorted, and nodded. "Consider it done."
She headed toward the small office off the morgue where the file cabinets were kept. Molly called over her shoulder, "How is Gretchen?"
Greg followed. She saw him grimace from the corner of her eye. "Fine. She's agreed to try couple's therapy again, so that's good."
"That is good," Molly agreed. The file cabinet drawer stuck a bit, so she had to pull especially hard to get it open. Greg caught her arm as she overbalanced. "Sorry. Don't know what's wrong with the darned thing, but it's been doing that for the last three days."
"Let me give it a look." Greg blindly stuck his hand into the drawer and felt around. Thirty seconds later, he triumphantly pulled out several sheets of crumpled and torn paper that had been caught in the drawer track. "Ta-da! Mr Fix-It to the rescue."
"Nice work. That thing is such a menace, I might have to put you on speed dial." Molly laughed and settled behind her desk to compare the Walen's file to Sherlock's list.
"It's good to have a back-up plan if this whole detective thing falls through," Greg joked. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels while he waited for Molly to finish.
Several minutes later, he had a list of numbers to pass along and Molly was giving him a comically wide-eyed look of appreciation as the drawer slid open smoothly when she went to return the file. "You know the minute you leave, it's going to eat something else."
"Of course." He hesitated for a moment, then launched into the other reason for his visit. "I was wondering, you're a lady and-"
"Well spotted, Detective." Molly flushed and shook her head. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm in a silly mood today. Go on."
Greg took her teasing with a roll of his eyes and a small smile on his lips. "Right, anyway . . . It's just that since we decided—Gretchen and I—to give it another go, she's distanced herself from most of her old friends. Bad influences, apparently."
Molly nodded to show she was listening. She didn't want to interrupt him, he looked so out of his depth as it was.
"Anyway, she hasn't really been out of the house, other than work and the like, in nearly a month. I don't want her to feel as if she needs to isolate herself just to prove she's serious about us, you know?"
"Do you . . . want me to talk to her?" It wasn't an offer she particularly wanted to make, but the relieved expression on Greg's face made it easier to overlook her discomfort.
"God, you have no idea how tempted I am to say 'yes, please'; but I don't imagine that would go over to well, would it?"
"Probably not." She bit her lower lip for a second. "So, what did you want me to do?"
He propped his hip against the desktop and took a deep breath. "Tell me I'm doing the right thing. Tell me I'm not ruining her life, wanting her to stay with me."
"You're doing the right thing," Molly immediately replied.
Greg narrowed his eyes and studied her face. "Do you really believe that?"
She knew she must have looked a little guilty, so she quickly glanced away. "I . . . don't know. I'm not the right person to ask. You need to talk to Gretchen, explain that you're worried and you just want to do the best for both of you. Even if that means things don't work out the way you'd hoped, I think."
They sat in silence for a moment before Molly suggested, "Maybe you could bring it up in therapy?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's . . . Yeah." Greg hung his head for a moment, then pushed away from the desk and stood up. "Thanks, Molls. You're the best." He held up his notebook and waved it in the air. "And I've got to get all this to Sherlock before he finds something 'less boring' to do with his time."
Molly followed him back into the morgue, trying not to worry too much about the man she was fast beginning to consider a friend in his own right (and not just because he was a friend of Sherlock's). "Hey, uh, maybe in a few weeks, you and Gretchen could come over for dinner one night. I make an adequate spaghetti and meatballs."
Greg paused just inside the door to the hall and nodded his head. "That would be great. Thank you. I'll let her know." His mobile dinged and he grimaced. "And there's the impatient sod already. Right then, I'm off. Later."
"Bye," she called after him, but Greg was already gone.