John sat back in the kitchen chair he was sat on. His hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea. He is trying hard not to reminiscence too much as he knows it will hurt. Mrs Hudson is searching for some biscuits in the cupboard. She briefly looks out the window and looks at the weather before turning back to hunt for the biscuits.
'It's hard to tell if the rain is going to ease up you know.' John nodded taking a sip from his tea. Not too milky and no sugar. Perfect.
'Thanks for letting me stay last night.'
'Like I said John, no problem at all.' John smiled and took another sip of his drink.
'You didn't happen to hear some banging last night did you? Or was it you? I mean I don't mind if it was.' Mrs Hudson then began to trail off.
'No, it wasn't me. Was it about 3?' John asked.
'I presume so. Then again afterwards. I thought I heard you moving around for a while.' John shook his head. 'Oh well, I must finally be cracking up.' She smiled. John laughed.
'No yet Mrs Hudson, not yet.' They both laughed.
There was a knock at the door. Mrs Hudson found the biscuits and placed them next to John and made her way to answer the door.
'Oh Detective Inspector!' John heard Mrs Hudson say. John placed his cup down and finished the biscuit he was eating. He walked out the flat to the hallway. Lestrade was standing there dripping wet about to speak.
'Sorry to bother you Mrs Hudson, but I was wondering if you have seen John. I was suppose to take him to the pub for lunch today and he wasn't home. So I guessed he might have want to come back here, it being around a year and all.' Lestrade explained.
John emerged into sight. Both Mrs Hudson and Lestrade glanced towards John. Lestrade looked awkward so John tried to make him feel more comfortable.
'Sorry, I forgot we were meeting. My phone is upstairs if you tried to ring me.' John explained.
'No worries, just wanted to make sure you were all right.' Lestrade said still standing in the pouring rain. Thunder sounded again above his head, then a strike of lightning flashed in the sky.
'Come inside dear, that weather will be the death of you if your not more careful.' Mrs Hudson exclaimed, ushering him in. He nodded in a sign of thanks.
They all sat down around Mrs Hudson's small table. She finished making Lestrade a cup of tea. Mrs Hudson looked towards the window.
'It's clearing up out there. Maybe you boys may still be able to have that lunch down the pub.' Lestrade smiled, John nodded.
'It's your turn to pay remember.' John pointed out to Lestrade.
'I'm pretty sure its yours.' Lestrade retorts jokingly back.
'Typical you, Lestrade!' John says shaking his head.
'Seriously John, call me Greg.'
'Okay.' John said smiling holding his hands up, surrendering.
They all politely chatted until they had all finished their drinks. Mrs Hudson cleared the cups and put them in the sink. She offered them one last biscuit before putting them away. Of course both men accepted happily. The sun was now beaming through the window. The radio in the corner of Mrs Hudson's kitchen worktop was forecasting the weather for the next few days.
'Oh dear. Seems this sun won't be lasting long. More rain and thunderstorms expected for the rest of the week.' Mrs Hudson commented.
'Better get that meal at the pub, and supplies for the week then.' Greg said to John. John rose from his chair. Greg mirrored his action.
'Well, I shall just get my phone and we will be off! Thanks Mrs Hudson for letting me stay.'
'No problem John. I told you any time.' She walked over and gave John a hug.
'Oh and thanks for the tea.' Greg said smiling towards the small woman.
'You are also welcome any time Detective Inspector.'
Both men walk out of her flat and Mrs Hudson closes the door behind them. They walk up the stairs in to John and Sherlock's old flat.
'Its strange being in here again.' Greg said standing in the living room of 221B.
John shouted back, making his way upstairs to grab his phone. 'Yeah, I thought that but it's not as bad as I thought it'd be.'
Greg noticed a letter up bolt right on the mantelpiece. He read the front and it said 'John Watson' on the front. Greg picked it up and John came down the stairs. Greg was just about to give him the letter before John interrupted. He slid his phone in his pocket and put his jacket on whilst speaking.
'We better be on our way its about to piss it down!' John turned and headed for the door. Greg could leave the letter there but he knew it may be a while before John comes back. It could be important. Greg slipped it into his inside pocket and headed towards the front door downstairs.
Both men walked a quickened pace to the pub. The rain was about to start but just as it was, they walked into the pub. Greg ordered them both a pint and sat down at a table. John glanced over the menu and made his decision before Greg could even look.
Before they knew it their food was in front of them. Both men chatted quietly about how each other were, football and the weather. Just the usual.
'I feel I can really speak to you Greg, more than most people.' John said after their banter on football.
'You know, you can talk to complete strangers about football when down at the pub watching a game and I'm sure they'd be more than happy.' Greg said raising an eyebrow. John shook his head, smiling.
Greg looked out a nearby window.
'It seems to have calmed down for the moment, we can grab a couple of beers and head to mine and watch a film or something?' Greg offered while eating the last of his chips.
'Sounds good.' John had never been to Greg's before. They were just colleagues. Never had they been actual proper friends.
Outside it was really mild. Proper weather for a thunderstorm. They entered a nearby Asda and did a quick shop for food and drinks etc.
'Who knows how long this storm will last.' Greg said. They made their way over to the DVD's. Both of them looked through them. Greg picked up 'The Transporter' and looked at John.
'Seen it?' John shook his head.
'Have you?'
'Long time ago, not exactly sober enough to remember it either.' Greg answered. John laughed and nodded when Greg went to put it in the trolley.
At the checkout John tried to give Greg some money for the beers seeing as he'd be drinking them too. Anyway he did pay for the lunch in the end anyway. Greg refused it and handed money over to the cashier. John packed some bags and picked them up.
'Taxi?' Greg looked at John, both men with shopping bags in there hand.
'As long as I can pay, yeah.' John replied.
'Can't count on it.' Greg winked and hailed a taxi.
Greg's flat was fairly modern and basic. It was a lot tidier than expected for a man who lives by himself and works much too often. John helped him put the shopping away in the cupboards and then they resorted to the sofa.
'Forgot to get the beers out the fridge.' Greg said setting up the DVD.
'I'll get them.' John said standing up and walking back over to the fridge to grab them.
Eventually, they both settled down to watch the DVD. John was still sitting in his coat but then so was Greg. Greg shifted and took his coat off.
'You staying?' Greg questioned with a hint of sarcasm intended. John looked at him confused for a moment then realised.
'Oh yeah.' He said shaking his head. Greg placed his feet on the coffee table in front of them.
'Seriously, make yourself at home. I'm sure the flat would appreciate it as much as I would. Show it's been lived in.' John laughed at him.
'You work too much.' John said. Greg couldn't deny it. He always ended up doing overtime. He grabbed his and John's coat and went to put them on the chair. The letter fell out of his pocket.
'John...' Greg said going to pick it up. John stopped him.
'What's going on? Does he just deliver stuff?' Greg lost his trail of thought of what he was going to do. The letter just stay on the floor. It can wait for the moment.
'John, you really think I'd get a film if it was that boring?' Greg looked at him and sat back down.
'Silly question.' John said. They both carried on watching the film in silence apart from the odd comment here and there. It was a comfortable silence. Much appreciated in some ways.
The letter still lay there upright on the floor. The only source of light was a dim lamp in the corner of the room and the glare of the telly. The words 'John Watson' however, were still easily visible.