Voices in the Night

by earinabox

John, a recently returned Afghanistan veteran, can't say no to the demons that haunt him. Greg Lestrade, an alcoholic struggling with a recent divorce, fights against his addiction. Greg struggles to find John before all of London falls. M for violence and self-mutilation. Johnlock. Thank you finnicko-loves-anniec for the cover art.

5. Chapter 5

Hey guys! Sorry its been awhile. Hopefully you enjoy the next chapter!

Greg Lestrade looked at his crime scene. Sherlock had ran around it, looking at this and that, and then had left without telling him anything. Now, his staff were doing their best. Whoever killed the drug dealer hadn't left much for them. Greg looked down at his clipboard, hoping for any insightful thoughts. None were forthcoming.

Greg looked into his glass. "This'll be the one that kills you Greg. It's probably burning a hole in your liver right now." He swallowed the liquor, disappointed with himself. Greg scanned the bar, hoping to avoid any familiar faces. Eric was gone- either he was sober again, or he'd been banned from the bar. Either one was probably good for him, Greg reasoned. His thoughts wandered back to his liver. Ghastly images of scarred and inflamed livers from health pamphlets and autopsies he'd attended wandered into his mind. He drank from his glass again, trying to expel the thoughts. He paid the bartender and wandered home, looking for cheaper alcohol.

A small liquor store gave his relief. A two dollar bottle of wine wouldn't taste good, but it would keep him drunk. He looked at the bottle, considering it. He would regret it later if he drank it. Greg looked around for a place to get rid of it. His eyes settled on homeless man, sleeping on a mat. Greg walked up to the man and slipped the wine bottle under his arm.

"That's rather against the point of going sober, don't you think?" Sherlock said from behind Greg, startling him.

"I'd hate to waste a good drink." Greg replied, concerned that Sherlock had been stalking him. Remembering earlier, Greg grew more angry. "You ran off on me! You just walked away!" he exclaimed, hoping to get a response.

"I didn't find anything other than a dead end." Sherlock looked unconcernedly at Greg. "Until you find the other body, I can't do anything."

"Wait a second, the other body?" Greg said, slurring his words together. "Is there another body?"

"I'm sure of it." replied Sherlock, with a hint of a smile playing at his lips.