Written: 10-21-14
Backup
He wasn't quite sure what had set him off. All he knew was that one moment the doctor had been standing there, genial and quiet as always and the next their knife-wielding target was down on the ground, moaning, with his companion backed against the wall and from the looks of him too scared to go anywhere.
Lestrade cleared his throat. "Er, Doctor?"
The doctor looked up, and the look in his eyes made Lestrade automatically take a step back. He'd hardly ever seen eyes so haunted.
A moment later a hand landed on Watson's shoulder from behind. Watson took a deep breath, closing his eyes as tension seemed to seep out of him, then nodded curtly, and Holmes dropped his hand from the doctor's shoulder and began speaking, cheerfully patronizing as always and explaining the case in such terms that most forgot Watson in the confusion.
But one man saw the fleeting look of concern in the detective's usually impassive eyes before it was veiled behind a cheerful jibe at the hapless sergeant. That man noticed as Holmes helped his friend from the premises, not a word between the two.
And as the two men climbed into a cab, Lestrade watched until it was gone. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to his men.
It seemed Holmes wasn't the only one who needed the support of a friend's companionship.