What Greg Missed
Genre: Family, with minor humour
Pairings: Greg and Molly
Main characters: Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson
Greg Lestrade stood in the middle of his living room, looking around at the shrinking space.
These days, he found himself feeling a bit… claustrophobic.
Greg really, really missed having room to move in his own home.
He'd never tell Molly that, of course. The problem had nothing to do with her or the twins anyway. Ironically, although they were the reason his flat was suddenly far too small, they were also the only reason that living there was still bearable.
When he had first been divorced and had decided to downsize things, he had moved into a smaller flat. It was simplified, like his life seemed to suddenly be. For a man who had recently restored his state of bachelorhood, it was more than roomy enough.
Then, several months after his divorce had been finalized, he and Molly had gotten together, and it was still comfortable. Even a small space could feel empty at times, but on the nights she had spent there with him, Molly had managed to banish that lonely feeling it sometimes had.
They got engaged after a minor row, Molly having said in exasperation, "Well we might as well be married if we're going to bicker like this!"
Greg had thrown up his hands in frustration and retorted, "Well as usual, you're probably right!"
A strange and sudden calm had settled over them at that moment, the glares of exasperation morphing into gazes of stunned curiosity.
"Did I just propose to you?" Molly had said, a tiny smile beginning to break through her irritation. Well this had certainly taken an unusual turn.
Greg had paused a moment, wanting to be mad, but rapidly having trouble remembering WHY exactly they'd even been arguing. He was also having a bit of difficulty controlling the twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I think so," he finally said. "Did I just say yes?"
"Oh, my darling Gregory. I think we're engaged," Molly had giggled. Whatever the row had been about, it was quickly forgotten as the unconventional proposal and resulting engagement was celebrated in a way that left little doubt that they had definitely 'kissed and made up', and Greg and Molly had definitely decided to get married. Molly had moved in within the month, and suddenly the small flat seemed perfectly filled out.
The gradual shrinking of Greg's – and now Molly's - living space had begun with Sherlock's correct deduction that Molly was, indeed, pregnant. No sooner had they found out they were having twins, and said twins had arrived, when the living space began rapidly filling up with the associated accoutrements required for two babies.
It was suddenly something akin to, as Greg had wryly described to Mrs. Hudson one day, "ten pounds of onions in a five pound sack."
"It's getting to be claustrophobic," he said to her. Greg had stopped by 221B to talk to Sherlock about some developments in a case he had called him in to consult on. Finding Sherlock had stepped out briefly to run an errand, Mrs. Hudson had offered him a cup of tea while they waited.
"It's gotten to be so crowded in there, I have to step into the hallway to change my mind." Mrs. Hudson smiled inwardly. She had grown to love Greg for his dry sarcasm and dark sense of humour, and she hadn't seen nearly enough of either him or Molly since the boys had been born. She suspected that Sherlock, John, and Rosie missed seeing him too. Certainly Rosie was missing Molly.
"I really miss my space, Mrs. Hudson. I mean don't get me wrong, it's not Molly and the boys, it's the flat itself," he said. "It's just too small now. I really think it's time to start looking for a larger place… but Molly is so tired these days I hate to bring it up. Moving is an exhausting endeavour on a good day, and besides, I had a hard enough time finding that one."
Mrs. Hudson sat across from him, sipping on her tea and watching him play with Rosie on his lap, something else she had missed seeing lately.
And then, the idea started to form.
"Oh, don't you worry dear," she had said, mentally shaking her head to the outskirts of the whimsical idea. "I'm sure something will come up just when the time is right. Don't you worry that handsome head." Mrs. Hudson smiled at him just as the door opened, Sherlock returning from his errand. By this time, the gears were fully turning in her head.
And that was how, 5 weeks after that fateful afternoon having tea with Mrs. Hudson, Greg Lestrade came to be standing next to his wife, after having stubbed his toe for the third time that day on the change table in the boys' room, and stating that he thought it was time they upgraded their living space. And, he said with confidence, he knew just the place for them too.
When Molly had heard him out fully, she had glanced over at the stack of nappies that her husband had knocked over in his attempt to avoid cursing out the pain in his increasingly tender and abused toe in front of his sleeping sons, and stated that she absolutely, without a doubt, could not agree more.