AN: I am an American so please excuse/gently point out any mistakes I've made with the British police force or slang/wording. Greg doing what he does probably isn't how things would work and if this had been an actual case any testimony he got would be thrown out. Mentions of rape, nothing too graphic.


Greg looks inside the interrogation room, taking in the kid that they have brought in for a murder. And while he may not be Sherlock level smart he isn't stupid. The only reason the kid was brought in is because he has the unfortunate luck of being an Alpha and knowing the victim. His fellow Beta officers are taking turns 'talking' to the young man who is claiming innocence. Greg looks down at the folder holding all the information they have on him. In his humble opinion, the kid didn't do it. There is no way.

When the current officer trying to trick the kid into saying something incriminating steps out he approaches her. She's about his height and smells mostly of gun oil, whether that is part of her actual scent or she's trying to overcompensate for something he doesn't know.

"Detective Clarke. Can I take a crack at him?"

Detective Clarke looks him up and down before shrugging.

"Sure. Why not? What can it hurt?"

Greg gives her a smile. They've worked together before. Or more like she noticed that one of her cases could be interesting to Sherlock and shoved it at him. Very few of his fellow detectives liked dealing with Sherlock. The look in her blue eyes was one of apprehension. She clearly doesn't want this to be something that will get the Alpha Consulting Detective sniffing at her case.

"Thanks," he tells her truthfully, flashing her an even bigger smile. The sweet fruity scent of arousal flashes through the gun oil scent that coats her. It shocks him, he knows he isn't much to look at. Not after carrying three children. The weight never really left him and he's in his forties now, a good twenty years older than she is. How gray hair and his little pooch could be arousing he doesn't know. Pushing that aside he walks into the interrogation room. The kid looks up, a defiant look on his face.

"I didn't do it," the kid declares, "And I ain't gonna admit to something I didn't do."

Greg hums, pretending to look through a folder. Just by the set of the kid's jaw, he knows that trying to be nice right away won't be taken well.

"And yous already tried the whole 'bad constable', 'good constable' so I doubt you'll play a new role."

"How about one that is very close to believing you?" he asks sitting down across from him. The kid blinks at him.

"Your name is Jasper, right? Do you prefer that or Mister Shaw?"

"You can call me Jasper."

Greg nods his head.

"Okay, Jasper. Now, I can't blame the others for not believing you."

The kid splutters.

"Your alibi is weak at best and completely bollocks at worst. I want to believe you, your records paint you as a rather good kid 'despite the obvious time bomb' and you have great grades," he says, his nose crinkling and putting emphasis on a phrase he hates. Alphas are no more ticking time bombs than Betas are evolutionary leftovers. The kid seems to agree with him, grumbling under his breath about sexist bastards. Greg looks at him sadly.

"The world has moved on from old thoughts but not too far. Which is why your alibi is more of a noose than a safety net. 'I was hanging out with my mates' that's your alibi right? Your mates are fellow Alphas, which normally would be fine but you're looking at being charged with rape of a kid not even old enough to have a secondary gender."

"I wouldn't do that to her. She's like a little sister to me. The thought of having sex with her even if she is older makes me gag," Jasper whispers almost brokenly.

"Then help me, help you, Jasper. I believe you. You don't seem to be the kind to learn how to keep your scent flat when you lie."

Jasper looks down at his hands.

"Why should I tell you when I didn't tell the others?"

The defiance is back in his voice. It reminds Greg of Anderson when the man first came into the office, stinking of the bland base scent of Beta that covers his actual scent uncomfortably outing him as something other than a Beta rather than convincing them that he is. Both are putting on a mask for the world. Jasper that he's tougher than he is, more ready to fight to the death. Anderson that he's a Beta rather than an Omega.

"Because I won't judge you. I won't condemn you."

Jasper looks up, the age melts away and god does he remind Greg of his twins. So young and vulnerable.

"All right. So I wasn't with my mates… I was with… Fuck. I was with my lovers. Not like that is going to be much better."

Lovers. Well, that is unexpected.

"We ain't Mated yet. They're waiting. For what I don't know. I'm eighteen for fucks sakes, and they ain't much older than me."

What?

"How old are they?"

The door behind him opens and he can smell Clarke.

"Benny is nineteen and Amelie is twenty-two. Now don't go giving them trouble we was just hanging. Amelie's mother and Benny's stepdad was with us."

"Why didn't you just say that!?" Clarke cries.

"Like you'd fucking believe me! Or you wouldn't look down on me!? Or you wouldn't try to hurt them?" he demands, "Hell Amelie could barely convince me and Benny that she wasn't like yous. Always so quick to blame Alphas or Omegas for shit. Ain't a single fucking Alpha in the joint and your Omegas are in the shit jobs."

Greg chuckles scooting back as Clarke's mother instinct comes in and she begins questioning him thoroughly. He can tell that the female Beta has come to the same conclusion he has. Jasper didn't do it. He sobers a bit when he realizes that there is still a rapist out there somewhere.

"Cerys' neighbor is a prick. He doesn't like the fact that her parents are both Omegas. Is always leering at her. Have you talked to him?"

It's a start. And even Clarke can see that.


AN: As this is now a collection of drabbles/one-shots feel free to leave a prompt or two. If they are shippy they may not be filled. I'm not sure who I'm going to ship Greg with, or if I'm going to ship him with anyone.