Hi everyone! as you may have notice i'm not very good at this, but this is my first fanfic. hope you like it!

Greg wanted to get drunk. He knew he was probably overreacting but he would regret it later. How could Molly not say anything? When Sherlock jumped off that building he lost his credibility, his respect and almost his job. It was a miracle he hadn't lost his job. And Molly had been by his side through the trail, the looks. She was the thing he looked forward to everyday, the thing that made everything not as bad as it should have been. Sherlock ruined his life and Molly was in on the cowards' way out. He didn't know what or why or how, but right now he just wanted to drink and feel betrayed and sorry for himself.

He shouldn't be here though. He should be with Molly on her birthday. He wanted to have a wonderful breakfast and then take her out for the day and then have dinner in a lovely, small, private restaurant away from other people because Molly didn't like crowds and places that were to fancy. The day had gotten off to a great start then Sherlock bloody Holmes showed up and ruined it all. He didn't know how long he had been here. He had been walking all around London for hours before stopping at the pub for a drink. Which turned into two, which turned into three and then he lost count. All he knew was that it was dark outside and Molly was at home alone on her birthday. Some boyfriend he was.

The thought made him even sadder. Pulling the small blue velvet box out of his pocket he leaned forward onto the bar.

"Rough day?" Lestrade looked up at the bartender who had a sympathetic smile on her face.

"Yeah." He mumbled.

"Troubles with your girl?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Lestrade smile sadly. "Birthday plans went to hell, things got complicated."

"Pretty serious huh?" at Lestrades confused look she explained. "The ring." She said gesturing to his hand.

"Ah, yeah. Right."

"How long's it been?"

"Almost three years." The bartender smiled at the pride in Lestrades voice.

"So, if you've been together for three years, you're proposing to her on her birthday, and if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you with her instead of a pub for the last three and a half hours?"

Lestrade rubbed his forehead. Had it really been three and a half hours? God, he was a selfish S.O.B. He knew Molly. If she kept this a secret she obviously had a good reason. She had helped Sherlock for a good reason, he was sure. A good reason that probably wasn't that she was in love with the freaking sociopath.

God what was he going to do. He could either go home, talk to Molly, let her explain and try to salvage the last few hours of her birthday and try to make it up to her, which was the mature, good boyfriend choice, or he could get drunk, wander down the street, wake up in some random place with a horrible hangover, down two litres of coffee trying to sober up and try to make it up to Molly tomorrow. What if Sherlock was at the apartment when he got there? No, that was stupid. Molly loved him. That, he never got. Sherlock was extremely smart, good looking (even he had to admit the bastard had amazing cheekbones) and had a cool job. Girls found that kind of thing attractive didn't they? The guns and the bad guys. He looked at the clock. 10:24. Making his choice, he downed his drink and ordered another. He was pretty sure there was a hotel down the street. Two hours later he was heading to the hotel down the road, completely wasted. Unfortunately there were no vacancies. Looking around he didn't know what to do. He couldn't go back to the house, not while he was drunk. He didn't want to say something wrong. Walking down the street he recognised the familiar houses of Baker Street. Knocking on Johns door, he waited for him to open the door, almost falling over several times in the two minutes it took John to answer the door.

"What are you doing here? It's one in the morning!"

"The hotel's closed. And Molly's mad at me. Or am I mad at her?"

John rolled his eyes. "Come inside."

John helped Lestrade stumble up the stairs put him on the lounge.

"Okay. Stay here and I'll get some coffee, you need to sober up." Greg shuffled on the lounge to get more comfortable and John went into the kitchen to get Lestrade something to eat and coffee.

As the pot was boiling John walked in and took Greg's shoes off.

"Molly knew." He slurred. "She knew the whole time and didn't say anything." He pulled the ring out of his pocket. "I was going to propose to her tonight." He gave a humourless chuckle. "We see how that worked out didn't we."

John started feeling bad for Greg. He knew why Molly had kept the secret; her boyfriends' life was at stake. If Sherlock had told him that when he dropped by then maybe Molly and Greg would have sorted things out and had a great day, gone to dinner. Then they could be happily engaged right now.

"I'm sure things will work out." Unfortunately Greg had passed out and couldn't hear.

Forty minutes later he was awake and had sobered up considerably and was on his fifth coffee.

"So," John broke the silence. "You want to explain what you were doing at my front door in the middle of the night?"
"Do you know?"

"Do I know Sherlock's alive and he used Molly to help fake his suicide and has been alive the whole time and didn't say anything. Yeah I know."

Lestrade nodded. "Right."

"I also know Sherlock came to your house this morning." He nodded again.

"You and Molly had a fight?"

"I walked out when Sherlock showed up. I almost lost everything because of him and Molly knew the whole time and didn't say anything."

"Look, Sherlock dropped by today and explained a bit. He said Moriarty threatened us."

"Us?"

"You, me, and Mrs Hudson. He had a Sniper for each of us, and apparently the only way to keep us alive was to die."

"Oh God." He got up and walked around the room. What the hell had he done?

"What the hell have I done?"

"What's wrong."

"What's wrong is that I walked out on Molly without letting her explain and I've ruined everything."

"I'm sure you didn't ruin everything. You found out your girlfriend had kept a giant secret from you that involved the loss of your respect and the near loss of your job. I'm sure Molly will understand. Just explain."

"Oh God. What am I going to do?"

"Right now you're going to get some rest and then tomorrow you're going to go home and explain to Molly, make it up to her and try to get her to forgive you. But right now you're going to sleep. Don't want you hung over when you propose."

Lestrade looked up, surprised.

"You mumble when you're drunk. Now go to sleep."

John went to bed and unlike the night before Greg couldn't sleep. When he was sure John was asleep he pulled out his phone and went through his pictures. Finding the pictures of Molly, for the first time all day, he smiled a real smile. She was so beautiful. He ended up staring at his phones wallpaper. It was the same picture he put in the Locket. God, that seemed so long ago.

Deciding it was better to try and not think of the mess the day turned into he turned off his phone and just laid there, and by the time the sun was going down he finally fell asleep.