It was dark overhead as the sky began to rain down on him. Seemed fitting, the sky was expressing his current feelings.
(Days earlier)
Greg had walked out of his flat 56 hours ago he was tired and every born and muscle in his body hurt like hell. Didn't expect to see his wife's clothes and some other man's clothes trailing from the door to bedroom.
Their bed.
Susan was there in another man's arms after all they'd shared.
"Don't look at me like that Gregory. You should have known by now." She'd said.
Lestrade could already feel his heart shattering. This was the woman he had planned to be with the rest of his life and he wanted nothing more than to come home and have in his arms. He had such good news to tell her too.
There were three different scenarios that went through his head. He saw himself drawing his gun and before they could move a bullet enters the headboard above the man's head.
The second one was bloodier because he would have shot the man in the privets and the third he could have shot the mattress. Four he could have just killed both of them. He could have just killed the guy.
Greg walked away as he heard Susan yelling stuff at him. Saying how it was his fault and how he never paid attention. He walked out the front door. Being the self-respecting man and cop he was Lestrade wouldn't go to the nearest pub or bar to drink him stupid. He went back to the office and stayed there. No one knew he was in his office thinking, thinking sleeping figuring out his next step.
He checked into a cheap little hotel and did as much work as he could to distract his mind. It lasted a week before a man walked into his office handing him a pack of papers. Susan had him served.
It was quick and easy there was nothing to fight over he let her have it. The flat, furniture, everything.
The ache in his chest only grew worse and he couldn't seem to even be angry about it or cry. So when everyone the team was called into a crime scene and it started to rain he was the only one without an umbrella. Even Sherlock had sense enough to keep one that time.
As if it had been written in stone Greg stood rooted to his spot and cried with the sky. They weren't great shaking sobs but just plain tears. Greg hadn't even paid attention as someone stepped next to him and an umbrella covered his head.
"Wouldn't it make more sense to be inside?" the man asked.
"It might."
"You're welcome to barrow it if your not done." The man said. This time Greg looked at the man. "Clever way to go about it I must say. Crying in the rain to hide what you don't want others to see. Your secret is safe." Mycroft grabbed hold of Greg's wet hand and put it around the handle of the umbrella. Mycroft flashed him brilliant smile and dashed off in the other direction for the car waiting for him.
Greg stood for a few minutes and waited. "He never gives up does he?" a voice asked next to him.
Greg looked at Sherlock. "He was he?"
"My brother Mycroft. Now stop standing out here and let's go." Sherlock told him.
Greg smiled for the first time in days thinking about the smile the Holmes man had flashed behind his eyes. He wanted to see him again.
I swore to myself that this would not turn into another full out Mystrade. I already have one going and it is going very well. "There's two of them?" is the name of it. Till then loves.