CHAPTER 42. gray
"Detective Inspector Lestrade." Greg answered his phone sharply; the source of his irritation was in the middle of berating another constable for tracking footprints all over the crime scene so he turned his back to better hear the caller.
"Where? What happened? Is he alright?" The tone in his voice must have alerted his companion in the dark coat because suddenly he waved the constable off, crouching silently eyes on the dead drug dealer and prostitute, but his head tilted slightly to the side, in Greg's direction. "Stabbed? How the hell-he's a A&E doctor for Christ sake! How the hell-wait hang on-" Lestrade caught how Sherlock was suddenly springing to his feet, and in two strides at the door. "Sherlock! Dammit!"
Lestrade hung up without a goodbye, officer Wright would understand. "Donovan! This is your crime scene! Call me I'll be at the hospital."
"Finally gonna check the Freak in to the mental ward?" she couldn't help but ask, Lestrade didn't have time to reprimand but he shot her a sobering warning glare.
"Yes sir. I'll take over." And she was back to ordering people around.
"Sherlock I'll drive! Get in! It'll be faster." Sherlock didn't argue as much as he hated sitting in cop cars his worry for John was greater. This startled Lestrade partly because he'd never seen this side of the younger man, this added more unpredictability to the already reckless genius. Now add one John Watson, only friend, flatmate and assistant-
"Believe me Lestrade you want to stop thinking right now." Sherlock growled.
"I hate it when you do that." Lestrade muttered. "That was officer Wright if you would like to know. He was taking in a drunk disorderly when he heard the hospital security needed back up. Seems our good Doctor was making his rounds came across a young boy with a broken wrist-" Lestrade caught how Sherlock's jaw tightened, from the corner of his eye, he only kept going. "Long story short the father pulled a knife on John when he told the father that the boy would need to go to x-ray. He managed to disarm the man and then officer Kelly who as it seems was there, took the man down and cuffed him. Wright showed up to help secure the man, looks like it was a pretty good fight, the assailant has a broken wrist. John however didn't make it out untouched. Officer Wright said he was in with a Doctor. That's all I got before you rushed out. I have a feeling that between you and your new flatmate, I am going to go completely gray"
"So did you burn it after reading or just hand it back to my fat brother?" Sherlock's voice was cool and even.
"Come again." Greg glanced over from the road to the detective and back.
"Don't play innocent with me Lestrade. I know you read it."
"Did John tell you?"
"No. Quite the opposite, I deduced something was wrong when he returned from shopping hours later, smelling of bleach, disinfectant and chicken soup. I know from experience John makes chicken soup when one is sick. I also know that if he were to go to your home he would undoubtedly 'tidy up', it's a habit he's always had since I've known him, most likely due to growing up with a father in the military. And if he were to clean, he would most defiantly use disinfectant and bleach to minimize the spread of germs. Seeing how he left the flat in a somewhat annoyingly cheerful mood, and returned-"
Sherlock recalled that day, the way John mechanically put the groceries away. A slight limp had returned and while John shut the fridge he hadnt complained about any of the body parts, he only closed the door and stared off into space for a moment as if he was a million miles away.
That night Sherlock had played his violin several times this wasn't the usual dreams, John didn't wake up screaming, he only just tossed and turned and muttered incoherently.
"Returned what?" Lestrade frowned, Sherlock rarely paused mid sentence like that and Greg couldn't read the consulting detective's face.
"Doesn't matter. Just answer my question Detective inspector."
"I didn't read it. He must have found it when he was straightening up, I mean after my wife left the house was a little cluttered." Sherlock snorted as if a little cluttered wasn't the right word.
"Fine, it was a fucking pigsty. But I was sick and I didn't have the energy or will to clean up. And I would never expected anyone to stop by but there he was, Doctor Watson." Greg was glad to have the road to concentrate on, this made it easier to avoid Sherlock's glare. "Sherlock I had every intention on giving that file back to your brother Mr. British Government, I just got busy with work and then my wife leaving and finally getting sick did me in. He didn't give me a chance to explain. I've been wanting to talk to him but-"
"He can be stubborn Detective at times. He also has one very great flaw." Sherlock made a face as if this was one thing he found disgusting and absolutely loathsome,
"Whats that?"
"He forgives almost immediately." Sherlock shook his head. "I have been trying to break him of this habit for years."
"Sherlock you do understand this isn't a character flaw?"
"Isn't it?"
"No. It's actually a good thing." Sherlock frowned glancing out the window.
"This Detective Inspector is a naïve outlook on the reality we live. The world is big, cruel, cold and dull. And there are some people who should never be forgiven even in death." Lestrade thought back to the pictures he gathered together to put back into that wretched file. All John's secrets scattered over Lestrade's hardwood floor.
"Like his father?"
"You saw the pictures then? I would have thought Mycroft would at least hold something back. But then again it's Mycroft always lets you know exactly what he wants you to know. He wants you to feel sorry for John, he's manipulating your strong sense of justice, right and wrong all that sentimental rubbish. He thinks if he can get you to think of John as fragile you will refrain from allowing him to close to violent crime scenes, and by extension me. Oh, Mycroft will stoop so low, coward. I should have known there was a reason behind him "just missing" John whenever he came for his impromptu visits. He thinks he's so clever."
"Well I hope John gives him at least half the ear full I received."
"So Detective Inspector did my brothers ill conceived plan work?"
"No-if anything I feel like a prat for thinking your flatmate was unstable or even a threat to you in anyway. Did you know he's been decorated more than once! A GC no less. " Sherlock didn't know this, he refused to pry into John's life more than necessary. Sure he hacked the medical records but that was only to be sure the good doctor was receiving his necessary care, that and Sherlock found it hard to concentrate on anything else until he knew what John's condition was upon release. Seeing how that horrid excuse of sister had kept him from seeing his friend. John could have recovered physically at a faster pace had that harpy not interfered.
"You didn't did you?"
"No. I did not feel the need to pry into my friend's life. I trust he will tell me what I need to know in his own time." This was a true statement, John Watson had always been a private person. He didn't like to talk about himself and his family. Sherlock could always relate, well at least on the last part.
"How the hell did someone like that get mixed up with you lot?" Sherlock gave a small laugh, turning to glance out at the fast moving city buildings.
"The only way someone like that knows how. By accepting what can't be changed." Was all Sherlock could reply his thoughts were pushing away from the blurring scenery and he was remembering a cold winters day.