Seeing and Observing
Genre: Friendship
Pairings: Greg and Molly, background
Main characters: Greg, Sherlock, John mentioned
"You're wrong, you know," Greg said casually, as he walked Rosie and the twins with Sherlock.
The older man and New Scotland Yard veteran had decided that this was the right time for "that little chat" with Sherlock that he and everyone else at 221 Baker Street had seen coming for a while now. But Greg wasn't going to make it easy on Sherlock.
"About what?" Sherlock asked curiously as his eyes scanned around his surroundings, silently taking in small details – laundry on lines, the behaviours of insects scampering across the sidewalk, the smells of the vendor stands a few dozen metres awak... and countless other small things constantly surrounding them.
"I do observe, just like you do," Greg said, glancing around himself. He paused, taking note of the way the couple across the park lawn sat next to each other, their expressions, the gestures of two men in business suits and carrying satchels, the way a young child was reacting to his mother speaking to him, and countless other small details of humanity that bombarded him all the time.
"You're always telling me that I see, but I don't observe… but that's just it, Sherlock. I do observe, I just don't observe things as well as you do. It's people I pay attention to," Greg said lightly, but with a tone that Sherlock had come to recognize as the one that usually preceded "wise words of wisdom" or useful advice and insight – usually about Sherlock.
Sherlock smiled. John was like a brother – closer in age and always the playmate, a bit older, but not by much. Always ready to stir the shit pot, but far more prepared to lick the spoon and accept the consequences of his actions with grace and humility, something that Sherlock had learned from over the years from him.
Greg was more like the much older brother, or even, he thought, something of a second father figure, one more in touch with who and what he really was than his own father even was. Greg had been his protector, his advocate, and at times the only person who seemed to really give a damn about him, in those muddled years before John Watson had come into his life.
Sherlock had learned over the years in theory, but only recently in practice, after Sherrinford and Musgrave and Eurus and all of those messy little emotions that had been dredged up, that Greg Lestrade knew him far better than anyone else save for John, and when he spoke of such things, it bore listening to.
"You know, over the years Sherlock, I have seen the best and the worst that mankind has to offer to its fellow mankind. You see two people in love and you observe it by the presence or absence of objects. I observe it by the way they look at each other. Subtle gestures that give away a person's feelings and intentions. Body language."
"So what have you observed about me, then," Sherlock asked, genuinely curious now.
"Well," Greg said thoughtfully, "take you and John for example. I have never seen two so solidly straight men who were as close as you and John are. It's as if you were two halves of the same whole. But humans by their nature are quite… multi-faceted. That particular whole is simply one side of you."
Sherlock smiled, nodding. "Which particular whole is that?"
"Your sense of humanity that takes in a moral compass, a filter. The one that makes you stop a moment to consider consequences to your actions, mostly how your actions and your words will affect others," Greg answered, pausing to re-tie Rosie's shoe lace.
"I can't argue with that, there. John does complete me in many ways. I suppose it's no wonder Mrs. Hudson assumed for the longest time that John and I were a gay couple," he said, laughing. "If she ever noticed the string of girlfriends John had parading through the flat for the first few years he lived there she may have reconsidered her assessment."
"Indeed," Greg chuckled. "And then there's you and Eurus. I couldn't go by the first time I met her at Musgrave, she was too broken and too lost. But the second time, when you invited me to accompany you to Sherrinford, I could see that you completed her, as well. This sad, broken little girl who grew into a broken young woman, completed by the only family she ever really cared about. And that, in turn, completed another side of you."
Sherlock was genuinely intrigued by now. "And what side does my baby sister complete?"
"The side that exercises true compassion." Greg said no more on that, knowing that Sherlock understood quite clearly.
"Very… observant, Greg," Sherlock said. "You've seen many horrors over the years, and yet in spite of everything you know Eurus did to myself, and John and Mycroft, you still see her as broken. Not a criminal who deserves to be locked up and the key thrown away."
"Eurus has many sides as well, she just needs someone willing to care enough to look at them and help her to complete them," Greg answered. "To the casual observer, your sister is beyond help and probably doesn't even deserve to be given the time of day. To you, she's your sister, and you feel a sense of real responsibility and love towards her."
Sherlock nodded, smiling sadly. "Indeed, I do, very much so. Now I suppose you have an assessment of who completes me on other levels?"
Greg smiled. "Rosie, and to a lesser extent, Scott and Johnnie. Your need to nurture and to protect. You and John, really, are co-parenting Rosie. And in a way, Molly does the same for you as well, or you wouldn't have given her up and urged her towards me."
Sherlock nodded in agreement. "Anything else?"
Greg stopped, looking at Sherlock with a crooked grin. "Yup.
Sherlock gazed back at him expectantly. "Well?"
"Uh uh uh," Greg sing-songed, wagging a finger at him. "No learning the lesson if I give you the all the answers, now is there?"
"Oh, come on, Greg," Sherlock declared, cocking his head at the older man in mild annoyance and frustration.
"Sorry, Sherlock. That's one you're going to have to see for yourself. Yes, there is another way you can be completed, if you recognize it and acknowledge it, and who will accomplish it. But you must see it for yourself, and no other way."
"Oh, you old git," Sherlock muttered.
"Something like that," Greg simply replied, with a soft voice and a subtle, crooked smile.