Usual disclaimers, plus one. This AU, where two of our fav characters are besties, is also not my own but the property of one CopGirl and whose excellent fic, Five Times Gregory Lestrade saved Mycroft Holmes' Life, is referenced several times during this short but heartfelt drabble dedicated to her good and talented self on the occasion of her birthday.
Green lights liked Greg Lestrade so little that they hid from him. So much so that on the occasion of his fiftieth birthday he automatically stopped at a green one without even noticing. It was only when it started turning red again that he realised his mistake and cursed quietly under his breath. And then it started to turn back again - instantaneously - red, to red and amber, to green, just like that, like it didn't want him to be held up.
Must be one of those smart traffic lights, he thought as he put his wife's, soon to be ex-wife's, Micra back into first and pulled away. He smiled in a friendly manner at the second set of traffic lights, alert this time, and amused to see that his usual luck, or lack thereof, was returning. It was changing to red just as he was approaching. Just like normal.
Comforting to know that normality had resumed and sanity reigned once more. But no, again they were changing back to green, this time not making it past the amber stage. He frowned but continued to drive through, checking even more diligently than usual to see traffic in the other directions had actually stopped. The police stats on road traffic collisions was bad enough without his help, frankly he'd already done enough on that score of late. He was strictly speaking off duty, but he was sure that the Daily Moan (Daily Mail newspaper) wouldn't let an opportunity go to slate London's Finest.
He wasn't the only one who had noticed the departure from normality. A women in a smart red Ferrari was shaking her fist at her own traffic light. An elderly lady with a stick was looking bemused and tentatively put her foot into the road and then crossed confidently with a serene smile in the direction of the Ferrari driver. All this Greg noticed simultaneously in the brief moment it took him to crawl tentatively across the junction and drive off.
He grimaced when he saw the third set approaching him and realised that he had subconsciously bestowed sentience, movement and creepy intention on a piece of street furniture. I'm the one approaching them, he muttered to no one in particular. They are static and non-sentient. And yet, they have stayed green for an unfathomable length of time.
The whole time he had been waiting in a slowly moving queue of traffic, the lights had remained stubbornly green in the direction he was headed. Greg could see he wasn't the only one thinking that. A white van driver to Greg's right was impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while edging forwards ineffectually and the pedestrians waiting to cross Greg's own road were actually talking to each other, Blitz Spirit-wise, while taking it in turns to stab at the pelican-crossing button.
Creepy. Really creepy. So much so that when Greg spotted a further set of traffic lights up ahead - since when did Hampstead have so many sets of traffic lights, they are breeding - he turned left off his planned route. And then he had the strongest feeling that they were disappointed and he felt a guilty little feeling in the pit of his stomach. Mean, Greg, real mean. They were giving you a gift and you were ungrateful and mean.
Greg hadn't bothered much with his birthday since Julie had left. Birthdays with her had been wonderful, too wonderful to bother with since she had left him and was staying with her supportive and sarcastic BFF, Susie. Every year since they'd been together, Julie had woken him with a kiss and brought breakfast in bed with whatever thoughtful present she was bestowing on him. If he'd been in the middle of vital investigations, she'd woken him slightly earlier than usual if he'd not been up too late. If he'd pulled a late one, she would pack a small hamper and drive him in, in this very Micra, so he'd have a moment more sleep.
Boy, he'd treated her badly. He'd known from the day they'd met that he didn't deserve her and couldn't believe his luck when she agreed to his suggestion of coffee, er, not with the gang, er, just the two of us, er, if that's ok. And when she had touched his cheek after he'd walked her back to Halls, and brought his face down so she could kiss him, or she'd die of the anticipation waiting for him to make a move, he had never fully recovered. Huge piece of luck for him that his cousin was friends with Julie's Uni set. They not only didn't mind a trainee policeman joining their ranks, they seemed to genuinely like him being around. Even if there were certain activities that they had a mutual agreement that he knew nothing about.
And then she'd left. To go to stay with Men-Are-From-Mars Susie. Fat chance of ever getting her from fat Susie's fat clutches. Not that Susie was fat, but she had issues and said she was a fat girl in a thin girl's body, or some such nonsense and that Greg's kindly offers of coffee and cake to stop her wasting away altogether were an assault on her as a woman. Bloody woman was stick thin and Greg believed it to be a bid for attention rather than a feminist issue as Susie claimed. Greg didn't know about all women, they were a delightful mystery, but Susie was definitely from another planet. He wished she'd go back there.
Greg had made his peace with the miraculously changing traffic lights and all manner of street furniture by the time he turned up at Susie's fat front door in a thin front door's body. Julie answered his hesitant knock almost simultaneously and Greg couldn't stop himself from beaming at her. And then she said, Happy Birthday! and kissed him right on the smacker in the doorway, saying after they broke apart, I'd have died of the anticipation waiting for you to make a move, followed by, It's ok, she's not in. Greg was too stunned to speak.
And then he noticed her pretty little luggage bag on wheels sitting in the hallway and found his voice. "Are you coming home?" he managed to choke out. "Just for today and then I'm going to stay with Claire. We'll take it easy. You need to court me again."
"But, I never did that the first time. You did that. I don't know how!" Greg was panicking. The beautiful dream of getting the love of his life back again in his life was rapidly fading.
Julie was at least still smiling. "Then learn. You have all those years of marriage to draw on now and you know how I feel about you. Woo me!"
It was probably just as well that at that moment Susie arrived back to pick up her forgotten purse as Greg was just about to spoil the moment by jeering at his wife's choice of verb. Susie glared. "Where are you going? With him! I thought we agreed that being a wife is being subservient."
"No, you did. You said that men are all evil and we need them like a fish needs a bicycle. I said I needed a little space to get my head together and to have a break from a rocky patch in my marriage and to think things over. Well, I've thought things over and I'm giving my marriage a second chance. If Greg will forgive me for Jeremy Brown that is." She looked at Greg expectantly. Greg simply gawped. He'd forgotten about the bloody PE teacher.
As it happened events took their own turn and Greg was saved by having a bizarre sense of humour and Julie having a sudden and inexplicable need to be saved. Susie barred Julie's way looking menacing. Greg stepped between them. "She's coming with me. I need help finding a bicycle suitable for my goldfish."
Susie opened her mouth and closed it several times, looking to Greg very much a goldfish out of water. He grinned and heard Julie snigger slightly behind her hand as she manoeuvred around the floundering Susie.
Julie warmed to the cooperative traffic lights much quicker than Greg had. That's the trouble with you, honey, any bad luck that comes your way you embrace like an old friend. Anything good and you're mistrustful. What can be bad about cooperative street furniture? Boy he missed her humorous light hearted nature and instant ability to 'get' what he was thinking before he thought it.
A lot of work to be done, but for the first time in a long time, Greg Alexandre Tobias Lestrade was feeling rather hopeful. As they approached their semi, Greg watched the last set of traffic lights gratefully as they turned from red, to red and amber, to green, to red, to red and amber to green rapidly three times before settling on green. And at last he got the message and didn't really need the text that came in as he bounded up the steps of their marital home clutching Julie's overnight bag in his right hand, and his wife's hand in the other.
Happy Birthday, Greg. Lasts one year and one day. I have something else in mind for next year, so enjoy while it lasts. Time speeds up when you get to our grand old age. Oh, and congratulations, and I don't mean on turning 50 either. Mx
Greg grinned. Before he had saved the life of one Mycroft Holmes the only person to sign herself Mx was his mother. And now he had two people known as Mx to feel warmly about.
If you want to know why the Government is giving presents to our favourite DI, then go read Five Times Gregory Lestrade saved Mycroft Holmes' Life by the lovely CopGirl. Please leave her your comments as appreciation and as a further birthday present for her. She deserves them. Oh, and this needs a thoroughly good Betaing. So comments and critique please. Gratefully received.