Chapter six
After a quiet lunch, and approximately three hours after John had presented Sherlock with his cup of tea, the door of the flat swung open and Lestrade walked in unannounced. To be fair, this was in his usual manner, much in the same way that Sherlock would walk into Lestrade's office uninvited and at will. But John, reading his book on the sofa, was unaccustomed to this ritual and started violently at the sudden appearance and scent of a strange Alpha; a small sound of panic issued from his throat and he sought for escape, his eyes darting frantically to the staircase behind Lestrade.
Sherlock who had been engrossed in his laptop, leapt up as if electrified, a vicious snarl erupting from his throat and confronted Lestrade who quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture and backed up toward the door, stunned surprise written on his face.
"What the hell Sherlock!? Jesus, mate! "
Sherlock had drawn himself up, his shoulders squared, his fists clenched and his feet planted in an aggressive stance.
"Caught you at a bad time?" Lestrade quipped, trying to diffuse the tension in the room. It didn't work.
"Knock next time. You scared John." Simple enough words but they were delivered in a threatening growl that gave them a whole different meaning, one that Lestrade did not miss. He glanced with interest from Sherlock to John, still frightened, in the far corner of the room.
"And John would be who, exactly, Sherlock? If he is who I think he is, then we need to chat. Care to introduce me?"
Sherlock, still glaring, faced him for a moment longer but then turned and went to John, his demeanour altering as he went so that by the time he reached the smaller man he was moving slowly and calmly. Shielding John from Lestrade's direct view, he bent and murmured something near John's ear. John visibly relaxed, closing his eyes and inclining his head to one side in what was perhaps an unconscious plea for more reassurance. Sherlock stilled close to him before straightening and putting a light hand on his arm.
Turning, he said, "John Watson, DI Lestrade."
Greg advanced in a friendly manner, but cautiously. Sherlock was right, the man looked frail and haunted and he had no wish to frighten him any more than he already was, although he obviously had an enthusiastic protector in Sherlock. Lestrade shot an assessing glance in Sherlock's direction.
"Greg, please. A pleasure to meet you. I'm an old friend of your bad-tempered body guard here." He lifted a thumb in Sherlock's direction.
Sherlock huffed in an irritated manner, still on-edge.
John managed a small smile and held out a hand in a conscientious attempt at courtesy.
Lestrade grasped his hand and quickly assessed him…hmmmm, a courageous man but gentle, not a murderer even if his ex-husband by most accounts might have merited it.
Lestrade and his team had spent the last three hours searching for information on Harvey Smith in all the databases at their disposal, of which there were many.1 A great deal of unpleasant information about the man had emerged. Although Harvey had never been arrested or charged with an offence, he was the subject of a number of criminal incident reports (including several for partner assault and battery) in Birmingham, Coventry, Bristol and Leeds; his last four cities of residence. In addition, MI6 was very interested in his role as manager of several of his father's lucrative security contracts with some very unsavoury foreign dictators. It seemed that both his and his father's arrests for violations of international law and security sanctions had been imminent.
Mulling over the thoughts in his head, Lestrade turned to Sherlock, who arched a challenging eyebrow back at him. Now Sherlock on the other hand, Lestrade speculated…murdering Harvey certainly wasn't beyond the realm of possibility for him…but then again it wasn't likely that Harvey would have been dispatched as neatly and bloodlessly as he had been if Sherlock had been involved…
John interrupted the silent communication between Sherlock and Lestrade. "I'll make tea for you both, if you like…" He glanced nervously at Sherlock.
Sherlock's response was soft, as was his hand on John's shoulder. "No, thank you John. I'll make the tea, please sit."
Lestrade took this, correctly, to be his cue to try to make John comfortable with him and since he was a kind and easy-going man this was not a chore. He began to engage John in conversation and soon they were discussing cooking, more specifically the amount of gluten in heritage wheat varieties and its impact on the texture of bread dough; Lestrade it turned out was an enthusiastic weekend bread-baker. He was encouraging John to share his secrets of success with Chelsea buns, and where one might find half-way decent currents these days, when Sherlock returned with a tea-tray.
"What's this Sherlock, you're saving the biscuits for the important guests?" Lestrade complained.
"Oh! I'll get−" John's anxious offer was impulsive.
Lestrade looked up in surprise, regretting his good-natured chaffing. "It's no problem John; really, Sherlock knows I'm trying to cut back..."
He felt concern at John's obvious over-anxiousness to please, knowing that it almost certainly sprang from a profound fear of conflict. He was well aware of the psychological impact that years of abuse had on victims and wondered if Sherlock was up to dealing with John's complicated emotional needs. The Sherlock he knew rarely questioned himself and was not tolerant of hesitancy and insecurity in others. Watching the two of them together now though − seeing Sherlock's light touch to John's hand, intended to reassure but unnoticeable unless one was looking for it − Lestrade realized to his surprise that Sherlock was very attuned to John's feelings and what's more, comfortable with providing the emotional support John needed.
Lestrade sipped his mug of unsweetened tea and wondered absently at his discovery, speculating that perhaps it arose from Sherlock's own social awkwardness, which, although Sherlock never let-on, Greg knew he was sensitive about. It was a new insight into the perplexing man who was Sherlock Holmes; a man Lestrade was very fond of, despite Sherlock's abrasive manner. Perhaps John would be the one to bring out Sherlock's warm human potential, thus far hidden from almost everyone. Lestrade hoped so.
Bringing himself back to the present, Lestrade, with the niceties attended to and sensing that his two hosts would rather be alone together−even if they weren't quite fully aware of it themselves yet−got down to business.
"Sherlock, about this morning−" Before he could finish his sentence he was interrupted.
"John had nothing to do with−"
"Sherlock had nothing to do with−"
"−Harvey's death!"
Sherlock and John both spoke at the same time and then turned to look at each other in surprise.
Lestrade glanced from one to the other with amused interest. "Alright," he nodded and leaned back in his chair, "Gimme then."