Greg got up at 5am. He folded the bedding, put it at the end of the couch, used the loo, and then left as quietly as he could. It was still dark out, but it had stopped raining overnight. He decided he'd drive to Baker Street. Sherlock was up often enough, and he could spend a bit of time there before going to work.

The roads were thankfully quiet. Traffic usually started to pick up at six, but before then was still considered the 'wee hours'… at least it always had been to Greg. It gave him the space to reflect over his conversation with John the night before, and his 'conversation' with Mycroft.

He went to knock on the door, but then thought he'd better not - he didn't want to wake Mrs Hudson.
She's probably still sleeping, after what was likely a rather difficult night. I guess a tough night for all. I wonder how Mycroft —No, no thinking of him right now.

Greg pulled out his phone to call Sherlock. It was only after he'd pressed dial that he considered that Sherlock wouldn't have the number anymore, but he continued dialling anyway.
"Lestrade?"
"Sherlock? Hey, could you let me in?"
"Give me a moment."

Sherlock hung up the phone, and Greg stood outside waiting. He could hear the movement from inside amongst the still of the early morning, and heard the soft footsteps of the detective coming down the stairs. Sherlock unlocked the door and stood aside to let him in.
"Thanks." Greg mumbled as he walked in, past Sherlock, and up the stairs.

The detective followed quietly, noting the emotional distress Lestrade displayed. He had a nagging feeling in his gut that it was also his fault, and that his friend was here to tear into him like John had.

When he entered the sitting room, he found Greg lying on the couch, his arm over his eyes. So, not here to shout at him, Sherlock thought to himself. It was obvious that Greg had spent the night on someone's - likely John's - couch, but he wasn't sure if he should mention it.

Sherlock silently stepped past Greg and took his seat. There was a moment of silence between them, one that Sherlock found strangely uncomfortable.

"Instead of that sofa, stay up in the spare bedroom… since it obviously isn't John's anymore." Sherlock stated out of nowhere to get the conversation going.
"I… er… alright, thanks. I'll think about it and let you know."

There wasn't any continuation to the conversation, and so they stayed where they were in silence for some moments.

"You should go see Anderson." Greg mumbled, the crook of his elbow still over his face.
"Why?"
"You don't know?" Greg asked, sitting himself more upright, with his arm back on his side.
"Know what?"
"He… He had a breakdown, believing that you'd faked it. Obsessed with finding things you'd been doing over the world, plotting those events out on a map, and constantly coming up with theories as to how you did it. He even started a little club about it all."
"…Oh. Was not expecting that. Maybe I'll surprise him. Or just let the cat out of the bag and see if he notices."
"Yeah, well, people can surprise you."
"Obviously." Sherlock stated, unimpressed.

Greg got the hint that he was referring to John. He didn't like that Sherlock was always thinking of John - but knew the man couldn't help it. While Sherlock had been Greg's best friend before and after the detective meeting and living with John, the doctor had quickly become Sherlock's best friend. Greg sneered inwardly at himself, chiding that it was all so immature to think like that.

"You know John has quite the temper. You didn't factor that in at all?"
"No. I would have thought he'd be glad to see me… like you."
"Yeah well, I think he secretly is. But the hurt of betrayal is difficult to overcome."

Sherlock eyed Greg for a moment, aware that he was suddenly referring to Mycroft.

"And do you think such a betrayal is possible to forgive?"
"I… I don't know, Sherlock. I guess that's up to you now."

Greg wasn't really in much of a mood to talk about Mycroft to Sherlock. It was no secret that the brothers preferred to behave hostile towards each other to avoid 'complicated emotions'. He did want Sherlock to try make amends with John though, and their situation was inherently different to his and Mycroft's.

The silence dragged on for almost half and hour following Greg's statement. He knew Sherlock was thinking it all over, and was used to the man taking long pauses so it didn't bother him. If anything, he found himself drifting off to sleep. He was roused by Sherlock suddenly standing and grabbing his phone from the desk. Greg was silent as Sherlock made the phone call.

"John…" Sherlock began hesitantly. Greg could tell the minute wince he made upon hearing John's reaction.
"Please… I'm sorry… No… I, I just… No, John, I need you."

Sherlock frowned and lowered the phone from his ear, putting it back on the table. Greg eyed him suspiciously, wanting an explanation.
"He, er… he doesn't want to see me."
"What did he say, exactly?"
"Fuck off."

Greg nodded silently. John was still very pissed. He wanted to say something to comfort Sherlock, since it was obviously distressing him, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to say the wrong thing, and knew that attempting to get involved would likely make Sherlock explode with snide defensive remarks of which Greg didn't feel up to dealing with. He sighed deeply.

"I'd better get to work soon."
"You… you don't have to go so soon."

Greg froze his movements to look at Sherlock. It was as close to begging for him to stay as he'd heard. It was true, he really didn't need to go into the office this early. He just wanted something to distract himself with. But hearing that tone in Sherlock's voice made him want to stay.

"There's nothing I can do, Sherlock. I've tried talking to him…it'll just take time. It's the only thing that helped last time."
"Last time?"
"When you jumped. He was so angry at us all, Mycroft and me, that he behaved much the same. Angry, shutting us out, blaming us for what we'd done. Except Mycroft refused to leave him alone and forced him to attend appointments, and I basically took care of everything else. Didn't Mycroft tell you?"
"No. Mycroft didn't explain much to me. There was a file about John with a few notes in it, but that was it. I had expected a run down of all the things he'd been doing, like he normally likes to brag about his power and control or whatever he does it for. But he was distracted by something. It was taking all of his faculties to maintain that persona he keeps."

Greg was surprised that Mycroft hadn't told anything that had happened while Sherlock was away. His stomach dropped when he realised that that meant Sherlock didn't know about his … suicide attempt. It seemed like it was going to come up at some point, and he felt he should be the one to tell him… but he didn't really want to bring it up.

"Thank you, Greg."
"For what?"
"For taking care of him. Considering everything happening in your life before I left, I would imagine it was a particularly difficult period for you."

Greg just nodded. He sat upright and leant forward on his elbows.
"Things are going to be shit for a while, Sherlock."
"Apparently. But unfortunately, we don't have time for it."
"What are you talking about?"
"The terror threat I talked about. It's imminent. I need John's help with it."
"You might have to manage with just me for a while, mate. It'll be alright, just like how it was before John."
"But… I don't want that." Sherlock breathed, almost as if he didn't mean to say it.

Ignoring the painful stab in his gut from thinking he wasn't good enough for Sherlock anymore, Greg stood up and walked over to Sherlock. He hugged him again, possibly more because he wanted a hug than Sherlock needed one, and then looked him squarely in the eyes.

"Things are what they are. We'll just have to make do, ok? But I'm here for you, mate. Always."

Sherlock looked down and nodded, much like an upset child. He took a deep breath and stood up tall.
"You're right. Thank you. I'll just have to focus on this terror plot, and try not think of John."
"Good. And listen, I have a case that you might like to help with later on? Just once you've gotten bored or stuck with this terror plot. Might be good to get out and do something else for a while."
"Thank you, Graham." Sherlock said, a smile pursing his lips. Greg chuckled and punched him in the arm. He feigned pain, rubbing the spot, but then gave a contented sigh.

"I'll see you soon, Sherlock."
"Yeah. Oh and Lestrade?"

Greg stopped in the hallway, and turned around to look at Sherlock.

"What was it that made John forgive you?"

Greg sighed and gripped the frame of the doorway. He looked at the floor, and slowly brought his gaze up to meet Sherlock's inquisitive stare.
"He said he forgave me when he moved out, getting a place and a job… a new life to focus on. But he didn't really, it was just an escape. It wasn't until … the threat of death was involved that he actually truly forgave me for my part in it all, and Mycroft's, and stopped being angry."

Greg felt Sherlock's observing gaze deducing enough about the scenario to forgo the need for him to explain what he meant. He noted the flash of understanding that darted across Sherlock's pale face, the quiet shock in his eyes. Greg said nothing more, and slid his way out of the flat.

Hey, I just wanted to take the opportunity to thank everyone for their reviews. This series has really been a coping mechanism for me for stuff, and now that things are particularly difficult, I've found all the support for the story invaluable. Truly, thank you to everyone that comments, especially my lovely regulars. It matters a lot to me.