Author's note: Time for protective John and apologetic Greg.
I don't own anything.
John all but ran out of St. Bart's, fuming. How could Greg... Why would he even... He couldn't...
He stopped and took a deep breath to calm himself. Greg was under a lot of stress right now. And yet –
Most people were convinced that Sherlock Holmes didn't pay attention to the insults people hurled at him – even now that he was famous and rehabilitated. But most people didn't know Sherlock Holmes like John did, like Mrs. Hudson did, like Mycroft did, like Molly did...
Like the doctor had been sure Greg did.
Sherlock Holmes was not a sociopath; Sherlock Holmes had a heart. Sherlock Holmes had faked his own suicide and spent three lonely years dismantling Moriarty's web because of that simple fact. He was human.
And John would lie if he said that he hadn't always suspected that Sherlock hated the word "freak". He might have built up a wall – and yet, whenever the word was hurled at him, there would be certain look in the consulting detective's eyes, just for a second, that would tell John that he didn't really just shrug it off and go on with his life.
Every time the word was uttered Sherlock felt a tiny stab – he might never have admitted it to John, but the doctor knew it, knew him – and now someone he had trusted, someone he had called a friend, someone he had faked his suicide for had called him a freak.
John realized that he was getting angrier instead of calmer, and he wouldn't be able to do anything against it, until he had spoken to Greg.
Although there was a small part of him that would have preferred to punch Greg in the face.
So he simply walked (he forced himself not to run) to Scotland Yard, noticing the looks people gave him on the way but not caring. Once he'd entered the building, even the detectives ignored him, which told him that Sherlock had left in a state of considerable agitation – otherwise they wouldn't have noticed, and some would have asked him what he was doing here.
He half expected Donavan to block his way – he could see her sitting at her desk on Greg's floor – but she, apparently deliberately, didn't look in his direction and concentrated on whatever file she was reading.
He didn't knock. He simply threw the door open and strolled in. Greg didn't look surprised; in fact, he seemed to have suspected something like this to happen, and John would probably have been sorry for him – he looked sad, and lost, and tired – if the DI hadn't hurt Sherlock. No one was allowed to hurt his best friend.
The DI looked up and knew immediately that John was furious, as he should be. His whole posture, even his face told Greg that he was not dealing with the doctor he had come to know over the past few years, but with Captain Watson.
Greg tried to smile, but only succeeded to make a grimace. He looked at his desk and said, "I know why you are here".
"You better do". John didn't bother to hide the venom in his voice. Greg knew what he had done – he had known Sherlock for a long time, after all – and he would also be aware that John wouldn't be in the best mood right now.
Greg stood up and walked over to the window, his back to John. Looking out, he finally said, "I didn't mean to".
"That's the problem, isn't it? They never do" John replied, perhaps more bitterly than he intended.
Greg flinched and turned around. "I just didn't expect him to think me capable of putting an innocent man in jail simply to become a DI".
"He doesn't think like that. He doesn't feel like that, either, Greg, and you know it".
Greg couldn't hold John's gaze; he kept looking at the floor, his desk, anywhere but at the doctor. "Yes. I do. But – "
"There is no "but" Greg, not when you are friends with Sherlock Holmes. You trust him, you believe in him, he becomes a part of your life, and there is never a "but". He is simply there, and you accept it, because it's the only thing you can do. Because he is something you never expected, but you need nonetheless". John stopped his rant and rubbed his face with his right hand. To be honest, he didn't even know what he wanted to accomplish; on the one hand, Greg had been a friend to Sherlock – maybe the first friend Sherlock had ever had – he had looked after the consulting detective on danger nights, he had been responsible for making Sherlock quit the drugs. On the other hand –
He had just called Sherlock a freak, after everything the consulting detective had done for him, had not even stopped to consider Sherlock's feelings –
"If it helps, I hate myself right now" Greg finally answered, "And I know that everything you said is true – God knows, my life would have been utterly unremarkable if not for him".
"And yet – " John couldn't help but reply, "You – "
"I know what I did" Greg interrupted him, "And I know he will probably never look at me the same way again, but – I am sorry. I got carried away, I didn't think, I know it's not enough, I know it will never be enough, but – "
He stopped, realized he had used the word "but" yet again, sighed, and ran his hands through his hair, and John while still wanting t punch him, was at least ready to admit that he looked sorry for what he'd done.
Greg apparently read his thoughts, because he asked, "Will you punch me now?"
"Thinking about it" John answered honestly.
Greg almost smiled, then thought better of it and replied, "If it makes you feel better..."
John couldn't help but snort. "Don't expect me to hit you in front of half the detectives at Scotland Yard". After a moment, he added, "And that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you".
"I wouldn't have expected anything different. I'm still mad at myself. But – " Greg looked at John hesitantly "do you think he would let me apologize?"
John shrugged. "He's in the morgue with Molly. Since you work on the case you should hear about the autopsies anyway".
It wasn't a yes, but it was the best the DI was going to hear, so he said nothing and simply left the Yard with John, ignoring Sally's concerned glance.
They were silent while they walked to the hospital, and Greg was sure that anyone would notice the wall between them; in fact, he was surprised that Mycroft hadn't kidnapped him yet. This was, however, most likely due to the fact that Sherlock had been at St. Bart's and safe – John certainly hadn't left him alone.
As if he could read Greg's thoughts, John said "Molly's with him. He's fine".
"Really?" Greg asked, unconvinced, and at least the bitterness in his voice (he still couldn't believe what he'd said) seemed to calm John a bit. The doctor looked at him for the first time since they had left the Yard.
"He has the bodies to occupy his mind – for now" he replied. He seemed to think about something before announcing, "I am going to take Molly for a coffee" – and Greg wondered if he had deliberately said it in a way that was sure to displease him, not that he didn't deserve it – "And in the meantime you can apologize. Sherlock will feel more comfortable if there are no witnesses."
He shot Greg another glare. "That doesn't mean I won't be nearby, though".
Greg swallowed, finally understanding why Mycroft had trusted the doctor to take care of his brother as soon as he had seen him.
He nodded and replied, "I wouldn't have expected anything else".
They didn't say anything else until they arrived in front of the morgue. John opened the door and looked in. Sherlock was busy measuring the wounds for himself – it wasn't that he didn't trust Molly, he simply liked to see all the evidence for himself – and John was relieved. At least the consulting detective could still concentrate, and he didn't look as lost as he had when he'd entered the morgue. John gave Greg a sign to stay exactly where he was and entered.
Sherlock looked up and asked, "And, did you speak to Lestrade?"
"Yes".
"Did anything turn up?"
If John hadn't known the consulting detective so well, he would probably have wondered how Sherlock could already have forgotten; but he lived with him and he knew he hadn't.
"No. But, as a matter of fact, Greg is standing outside the morgue as we speak..." He noticed Sherlock's shoulders tense slightly.
"I will be having coffee with Molly. I won't be far. But, please Sherlock, at least let him apologize. I know what he did – I am angry at him myself, believe me – but he is your friend."
Sherlock shrugged and said, "Let him in, then. I just hope it won't take too long".
John nodded, knowing this would be the best reaction he was going to get, before walking to the door, Molly already behind him. He did, however, give Greg another parting glare, just to be on the safe side.
Greg entered and looked down at the floor. How could he apologize? What could he say?
Sherlock, still busy with the body, broke the silence. "Have you found something out, Lestrade?"
Greg flinched. Sherlock hadn't called him by his last name ever since he returned. He knew he deserved it, but still, it felt wrong.
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to apologize".
"No need to apologize for speaking your mind" Sherlock answered briefly.
"Sherlock – I don't think you a freak. It just slipped out".
The consulting detective looked up. His eyes narrowed, then his face was once again devoid of emotion. "If you say so..." And he started measuring the wounds again.
"Sherlock..." Greg walked towards him and came to stand at the other side of the body. "Please. You know I consider you one of my best friends. You know I need you".
"To solve the case, yes, I am aware of it".
"Sherlock!" Greg grabbed the consulting detective's wrist. If Sherlock wanted to hear his apology over a corpse, so be it. Sherlock's eyes flashed dangerously as he looked up.
"Sherlock..." the DI repeated, letting go of his wrist. "I need you because you are crazy and turned my life upside down nine years ago. I need you because I was incredibly bored in the three years you were gone. I need you because – I need you because I trust you, and I care about you. I will always be sorry for what I said, but – please..." He broke off, unsure what to do. Then he noticed Sherlock's gaze.
Sherlock was deducing him once again, at least, and he would take what he could get.
"You are not lying" he finally announced, sounding surprised.
"No, no I am not" Greg replied.
Sherlock nodded and gave him a small smile. "Greg, call John. I need to show him the wounds."
"Of course". And Greg turned around and took his phone out, incredibly relieved. Things weren't all fine between them, not yet, but it was a start.
Author's note: Because don't we all love big scenes over bodies?
I hope you liked it, please review.