Greg Lestrade had been having a hard time. His wife had left him for his daughters PE teacher, running off to France, abandoning them both. Greg understood why she abandoned him, or at least that she seemed to have her reasons, but he could not fathom why or how she could abandon their amazing and beautiful eight year old daughter. Elizabeth was extremely smart for her age, as well as perceptive, so unfortunately she understood her mother had abandoned her, and that killed Greg; to see the pain on his baby girls face was almost too much to handle, even though she tried to hide how much it hurt her, but Greg new his daughter, and he knew when she was in pain, physically or emotionally. He was sad his marriage was over, but he didn't regret that it was, he just regretted that his daughter was stuck in the middle.
The Inspector was also having a hard time at work. Donavon and Anderson had started being especially cruel toward Sherlock, plus their little affair was starting to affect their work. He did not look forward to the conversation he would soon have to have with them. The higher ups were also on his case, giving him trouble for no good reason. Then there was the fact that the Inspector had no life outside of work and raising his daughter, which he had no problem with, he just wished that he had a friend he could talk to sometimes; a sympathetic ear. He was dealing with a lot and he was not sure how much longer he could deal with it by himself.
That's why he could not hold back a sigh as he looked down at another body. He could usually separate himself from his work but he just didn't have the energy anymore. He was worn thin and so close to breaking. He felt like he was on the verge of shattering. He couldn't take another hit to his opinion of humanity, he couldn't handle telling another person someone they loved was dead and he definitely couldn't handle the idea of letting his little girl down if he did break, if he did shatter, and there was no one around to put him back together for his daughter.
He turned away from the body of the twenty two year old girl lying in front of him, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn't been able to handle cases like this since his daughter was born. He sighed again as he rubbed a hand through his hair and over his face. All of a sudden he could feel himself falling, spiraling down, and he flinched in anticipation of the inevitable crash and shatter, but it never happened because out of nowhere there was a hand rubbing his back as he found himself crouched on the spot.
He had not even noticed that he had crouched down until he opened his eyes and was staring at John's feet. He was breathing hard but not actually taking in any air as he looked up at the doctor's concerned face.
Crouching down beside Greg without taking his hand off his back, John asked, "Are you okay, Greg?" John would have said more, pointed out how haggard and haunted the Inspector looked, but he doubted that would make him feel any better so he left it at that.
Greg tried to brush off the question and say he was fine, like he always did, but could not bring himself to utter the lie, yet again. He opened his mouth to try and say something, anything, but all he managed was a strangled squeak. He buried his face in his hands. He missed the worried look on John's face as he looked at the Inspector.
What happened next surprised everybody. John stood up and cleared his throat, but not in that way when there is a tickle that needs to be dealt with, but in the way that says, "Listen to me right now, or else…" The room full of a dozen or so people went silent, even Lestrade quieted his breathing and looked up at John. He had taken up a military stance, a stance that spoke of power, and demanded obedience from every person in the room. In a clear voice John calmly ordered, "Everybody out of the room. Detective Inspector Lestrade and I need a moment to talk, alone." There was an immediate flow of people out of the room. No one questioned the authority in John's tone, if Anderson or Donavon had been there they may have, but they weren't, so soon it was only Lestrade, John, and an awkward seeming Sherlock in the room.
Both Lestrade and Sherlock were staring at John in amazement as Lestrade half whispered, "I can't even get them to listen to me like that." John just gave him a small smile and looked at Sherlock.
"Are you going to be supportive or do I need to kick you out as well Sherlock? After all this is sentiment and caring." John gave Sherlock a knowing look.
Sherlock gave an awkward cough before speaking, "Just because I don't care in general doesn't mean I don't care at all." He blushed a little as he looked down and continued, "I do care about you and Lestrade." He was shuffling his feet awkwardly.
John just gave him a slight nod and turned back to the Inspector, once again kneeling down beside him, Sherlock and his surprise confession forgotten behind him. John spoke in such a soft voice it was almost unsettling to hear him switch so quickly to it from his military 'captain' voice. "Greg, there is obviously something wrong, and I want you to know that you can talk to me. I'm here for you if you need me." He had a hand on Lestrade's shoulder and squeezed it lightly.
Greg looked at John for a moment, wanting to talk to him, but unsure how to do it. He had never had someone he could talk to about his problems before, at least not since he was a little boy and used to talk to his teddy bear. He made the same squeaky noise before burying his face in his hands again out of frustration. He wanted to talk to John, but not here, not with his team on the other side of the door, and he couldn't just leave, not with the dead girl still in front of him. This time it was Sherlock who saved him, as if Greg had been speaking out loud he said in an oddly timid voice, "I know who did it, so there is no reason you can't leave Lestrade. It was the boyfriend. We can all head back to 221B if you'd like."
Both John and Lestrade sent Sherlock a grateful smile as John helped the Inspector back to his feet. John went to the door and called everybody back in, and soon enough they had been directed to the evidence needed to convict the boyfriend and the three men were in a taxi headed back to Backer Street in complete silence.
The second John closed the door Lestrade collapsed onto the couch face first with an aggravated sigh which made Sherlock immediately excuse himself under the pretense of making tea, hoping John would have talked to him by the time he got back. John took no time in walking over to the Inspector and sitting on the coffee table, leveling him with a "tell me what's bothering you" stare.
Lestrade closed his eyes as he spoke quietly, "I've just been a bit overwhelmed lately, what with my wife…soon to be ex-wife… running off, abandoning my daughter and I, and the higher ups breathing down my neck. Plus I am having serious issues with some of my team members, and… well… it's just that, everything is piling on, and it's too much to handle by myself all at once." He sighed for what felt like the millionth time that week.
John let out a small laugh, and seeing hurt cross Lestrade's face he quickly explained, "You do know you don't have to do it by yourself, don't you? Sherlock and I both want to help. We can watch Elizabeth if you need some time, you know she loves us, and we are always here to listen, if that is what you need. I've been told I make an amazing shoulder." John sent Lestrade a heart-warming smile. That smile that no matter how bad you are feeling, or alone and cold, it always made you feel comforted and loved; it makes you feel safe. Lestrade could not help the faint smile that crept across his face. Then as Sherlock was walking into the room with a tray that had three cups of tea John added, putting his hand on Lestrade's shoulder, "You are not alone, Greg." Both Sherlock and John sent him a smile, John's less awkward than Sherlock's.
That's when Lestrade realized he did have friends. One of them may be a self-proclaimed sociopath, but both were still amazing friends. John was always keeping an eye on him, making sure he was hanging in there, and Sherlock would take cases that bored him, simply because Lestrade asked him too, which was a big thing for Sherlock. He knew both would be more than willing to put him back together if he ever broke. Suddenly, with that thought, things didn't feel so overwhelming. Lestrade could breathe again for the first time since his ex-wife left.
Lestrade and John talked about all of Lestrade's problems for the next two hours, Sherlock simply sitting in his chair listening while John knew exactly when to offer advice, or just agree, or simply nod his head in understanding. He knew when to pat Lestrade's shoulder in a comforting gesture, or when to simply stay quiet. Lestrade left the flat with a smile on his face as he headed to pick his daughter up from school. He knew as long as he had friends like Sherlock and John he would be able to make it through this dark time so that he could make it back to the good times. With his daughter and friends he knew he would be better than okay. He smiled wider, and as his daughter ran up to him in front of the school, seeing her father looking happy for the first time in a long time, she could not help but return that smile full force. Nothing made her heart glow more than to see her father happy again.