Fic: Life in the Ruins (4/9)
art by evian_fork
Life In The Ruins
A BBC Sherlock fanfic by arwen_kenobi
Chapter 4 of 9
Master Post can be found here
When Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade returns to work it is treated as if nothing had gone wrong. Mostly, anyway. It's all the usual run of things when he gets in but when he actually sets foot into the office proper he's either treated as if nothing has happened or else the people that know him well - in this case it's Paul Dimmock and few of the others (Stacy Hopkins, Peter Jones, Lloyd Bradstreet, and Donna Lander to name names) - greet him with coffee and muffins and a lot of back slapping.
Then he gets to his desk and finds there is actually sixty days of worth of paperwork sitting on it but most of it is sorted. He's barely sat down when a light knock on his door draws attention to the fact that Dave Anderson is standing in his doorway. So is Sally Donovan.
"Welcome back," Dave says. It's sincere and awkward. Sally nods her agreement and eventually echoes verbatim.
Lestrade has had fantasies about this moment. Most involve him yelling and tossing them out of his office and off his team, some involve throwing them out a window, and others involve him marching both of them to 221b Baker Street and having them actually face John. Mrs. Hudson hasn't told him if either Donovan or Anderson have gone to see John. Neither of them were at the funeral but Lestrade wants them to see what their lack of trust has resulted in.
Then again he is just as much to blame. And, as John says, they could play the blame game all day and really the end fact was that they had done their job. At great personal expense since, really, Sally especially, they could have been suspended or fired or had any manner of hellfire rained down on them as a result of their complacency.
"Come in," he eventually says. "Shut the door behind you."
Donovan does so. Neither of them take the seats in front of the desk. They stand there, privates ready to take orders.
"I understand why you did what you did," he begins. "I understand why you thought what you thought. I don't believe you treated Sherlock fairly, either of you, from day one and I think you can admit that now. Yes he was abrasive and rude and all that but he did good work for us and you threw him overboard at the first hint of doubt. He was one of us and you betrayed him."
It's a testament to both of them that no one says anything. Lestrade goes on. "You did right, you know. As much as I hate it you did right." He's speaking directly at Donovan at this point. "I am not going to hold it against you. We all know Sherlock wouldn't - he'd probably commend you both for using your heads for once. The truth is out there for all to see now and there is far too much blame to be passed around here for one person to own it all." He stands. "We have work to do and it's going to be all that much harder without him to help us out. We need to put this behind us and get on with the good fight, okay?"
They both nod but no relief colours their faces. "How is John?"
Lestrade may have just given a speech about moving on and putting the betrayal behind them but this was different. He shows no mercy. "Terrible. Next stupid question, please?"
"Will he help us from time to time?" Donovan's question is more tentative and resigned. Lestrade sighs.
"Would you?"
Neither of them have any answers. Lestrade changes the topic by thanking them for sorting his paper work. "Now what have you got on now and what needs to be looked at again? I made a point to not look too much at anything during my forced vacation."
Donovan produces a folder, Anderson another, and they finally take the seats.
The meeting with Superintendant Gregson goes better than expected. It's as awkward as all hell but it's fine. He assures Lestrade that his record will not suffer and that he's more than welcome to take on consultants as long as proper channels are followed. John Watson's name is not mentioned but it hangs between them like a death sentence. "We'll see how things go," is all he commits to and Gregson lets him leave after that.
An email from Mycroft assures him that things will go very smoothly for him from now on. Lestrade has an email half composed demanding as to what the hell Mycroft is playing at but decides he doesn't want to know.
Then he gets a call about a murder at Mornington Crescent Station. He can't make head or tail of it and neither can the rest of his team. Anderson is shocked speechless and Sally keeps shooting down her own theories as she spouts them. Lestrade realises halfway through the act that he has selected Sherlock's number in his contact list and was just about to hit call. He looks at the screen, dejected for a moment, and scrolls up to select 'John Watson.'
"Might as well try," one of the newer recruits says.
Fair enough. He pushes call. After the second ring it occurs to him that John is on days today at the A&E. Just like the old days, however, he answers anyway. "Yeah?"
"Hi John, it's Greg."
"I know. First day back going well?"
"Enough, yeah. Look...we've got a real mess here. Double homicide at Mornington Crescent. Could go with an extra set of eyes and another brain."
It's a long, pregnant pause before John gives a cautious yes. The entire team breathes a sigh of relief along with Lestrade. Everyone knows this doesn't solve everything - for the murder or for the Yard - but it's a step in the right direction.
When John gets on scene it's even more awkward than Lestrade's meeting with Gregson had been. He's waiting for the earth to split when John shakes hands with both Donovan and Anderson without causing serious injury to either of them. Lestrade's not sure whether he's to mark that up to John's doctor side or his soldier side. Maybe both. Maybe it's just that he just doesn't want to bugger up Lestrade's first day back. Either way he decides that he owes John dinner after this.
John does see a few things that they missed. He notices that the first victim's fingers have been broken on purpose - Anderson had initially said that it had been done by accident. He also finds the mobiles of both victims. One was in their left sock and another in the inside pocket of a money belt. It turns out that victim is a tourist. There's a whole sea of information that just pops up as John gets on a roll before suddenly realising where he is and who he is not with before stepping back and letting 'the professionals' as he calls them do their work.
Lestrade isn't sure if the others noticed the little flicks of John's eyes to his left. Not straight left. Slightly up a bit as if he was looking to meet someone's eyes. Lestrade doesn't think it's possible for his heart to break any more than it already has but he can bloody hear it shatter in him.
Sherlock's ghost dogs them the rest of the day. It's not a threatening presence. Just a lingering absence that Lestrade knows he is going to feel forever and a day. Somewhere in this quiet he hopes Sherlock is saying 'well done, John'.
John eventually does excuse himself from the scene. "I've got to get back," he lies. "Things to do. People to stitch up. All that." His hand shakes but Lestrade pretends not to notice. He thanks him for what track he set them on and the rest of the team goes about their business.
Sherlock's ghost continues to haunt them and now it's threatening. He knows he's not the only one who can feel the spectre breathing down his neck, urging them on toward whatever the answer is. It's all beyond them, at least for now, but Lestrade has confidence that they'll get there soon. "We'd be going faster if you hadn't jumped, you mad bastard."
It's quiet after that and Lestrade almost apologizes to thin air. All of his girls are on nights tonight so he sends out his offer of dinner to John. He extends the offer to the girls on the off chance that they get off early as a courtesy. He knows no one will take him up on it. He's pleasantly surprised, and also a touch worried, when John accepts the invitation. That sense of worry does not disappear when John eventually walks into the Yard's local and settles into a seat. "All right?" he asks.
John shrugs. "Long day," he sighs.
"Thank you for coming out again. I know you really didn't want to."
"I had to," John deflects. "I'm writing a book aren't I?" He sighs and takes a sip of his beer, cautiously.
"And usually one is meant to withdraw from society at large when they're writing, yeah?"
"Usually," John agrees. "I think we both know how much of a bad idea that is."
"Quite a thing to hear you admit it, John." He doesn't mean to say that aloud but John nods agreement and pulls out a notepad. "Been trying to think of some things. Finer details and that. I need a little bit more than what's in the blog."
John has written up a handful of cases, nine or ten Lestrade thinks, but it would probably nice to have it an bigger number. There is one very obvious case to write up but Lestrade isn't going to say it. He'd like to read some other ones, or see John's interpretation of some other ones. "I can give you some early ones," he offers. "The ones before you, I mean, if you want to. The first one that Sherlock and I ever did together was quite...well, quite..."
"What?"
"It's a story of cocaine, murder, sacrilege, and international espionage and I was damned sure I could do it on my own. He proved me very, very wrong."
"Care to share?"
"Not in public. I feel like if someone from the Yard overhears I'll be arrested on the spot." He believes nothing of the kind, emails from Mycroft Holmes notwithstanding, but wants to see if John will take the bait and forget his sorrows for awhile. Just think back and remember his friend before things went mad.
Well, maybe not before things went mad. Things were always mad.
John asks if they can get takeaway instead. Lestrade offers his house. Despite what he's trying to accomplish here the thought of setting foot in Baker Street makes him far from comfortable. He also feels like he needs to wait until John actually invites him. He doesn't want to know what John would say so he's quick to offer his house and John does not counter offer.
"Sacrilege?" John asks. "Honestly?"
"Are you really that surprised?"
John's laugh almost sounds full. "No, I suppose not," he chuckles. His smile, that loving lost smile is real enough and Lestrade returns it even as his shattered heart shatters some more.
Lestrade has finished his tale and is making mental notes to himself to go looking things up in the archives when Tess stumbles home. A young beat cop would mistake her as drunk but Lestrade knows she's just beat tired. This latest production has been highly technical and features an absolutely mental direction and a loose cannon for an assistant director. She's got one week left with this one, he thinks, until a nice Shakespeare play starts up next. "All right?" he asks as she stumbles past them into the kitchen.
"Just fine," she slurs as she sticks her head back in. They focus more when she sees that Lestrade has company. "Oh hello, John!"
John takes advantage of the fact that he only has to deal with Tess at under twenty-five percent functionality. "Hello, Tess," he smiles back. "How have you been?"
She waves one hand back and forth. "All right, I guess. You?"
"Well enough."
Tess isn't one to pick up subtleties all that well and her current state certainly does not make her better at it. "That's fab," she decides. "Just fab." The last 'fab' vanishes in a yawn but the point is there. "Get back on the horse and all that."
John hums, non committal. Tess continues her plod into the kitchen. On her way back up the stairs with a mug of tea she pops her head back in again. "You'll be fine, John," she assures him. "It'll all work out in the end." Lestrade raises an eyebrow and John manages to keep a straight face, and keep on the couch. Tess somehow makes it upstairs without spilling tea all over herself and Lestrade waits to hear her door click closed before speaking.
"Sorry about her."
John shakes his head. "Not at all." He finishes his own cup of tea and stands up. "Probably should head off myself. I'm on night rotation the next two weeks."
"Quit the locum work then?"
John nods. "Need something to hold my attention. A&E at the very least manages to do that more than the locum work does. Less than...before but...well, that was then and this is now." He sounds like a man informing his friends he's been diagnosed with terminal cancer (again that thought about John's grief being a cancer) or else that he's about to go to prison for the next twenty years.
"How did it feel today?" Lestrade had meant to save this question for another day but it's too late to take it back now. John is taken aback by the question, it seems he'd expected Lestrade to keep it to himself as well. He ponders deeply for a moment and then shrugs.
"I don't know," he decides. "I didn't like it but I didn't not like it either."
"Will you come again tomorrow if I need you?"
John nods. "Most likely." He fails at putting on a brave face. "Thanks for tonight, Greg."
"Anytime, John. I mean it."
As John opens the front door he almost bowls into Karen, or Karen almost bowls into him. The two of them face each other in silence for a moment and John is about to finally say hello when Karen pulls him into a hug. She whispers something fiercely in his ear, kisses his cheek, and rushes upstairs. John follows her up with his eyes and her door closes with much more intent than Tess' had. John keeps looking up for a few more moments as if he's waiting for her to come back out and then takes his leave.
As Lestrade is getting ready to go to bed himself he can smell cigarette smoke coming from Karen's room. Karen thinks she's been keeping this a secret since Sherlock died and Lestrade has been content to let it go on. Mostly because of what he's about to do now.
He knocks on the door while he's opening it and finds her perched on her bed, fan blowing out the open window in an effort to clear the smoke. She's only just lit up and again there are tears on her face.
Lestrade sits down next to her and asks for one. Her eyes widen and she freezes like a deer in headlights. "You either give me one or I give you a talking to about the evils of cigarette smoking."
She gives him the cigarette and even lights it for him. It tastes weird at first but then his body remembers and he relaxes for the first time all day.
"Will it ever stop, Dad?" his youngest asks him.
Lestrade does not have an answer for her. He doubts that he ever will.
They solve the case two days later. It's two days too late since the murderer has managed to hang himself in the meantime. John vanishes before the note is read and Lestrade's mobile starts chirping at him with texts informing him that John is on the roof again.
Lestrade sees no reason to go get him. Not today. Part of him fears for John's life but he knows he won't jump. Not while he's got a book to write. Not while he's doing this one last thing for Sherlock.
When he finishes giving his reports at work he starts collecting every case that isn't under lock and key that he ever worked with Sherlock before John had come into their lives. The more material John has the more work he'll have to do and the longer it will take to complete his mission.
That's Lestrade's mission: keep the man involved, thinking, and moving because when John stops long enough and spends enough time on that blasted roof then...then that might be it for everything.
Sherlock had died to save John and Lestrade was going to do as best he could to make sure that Sherlock's sacrifice bought John as much time as he could. Hell, if Sherlock's ghost couldn't get off its arse and get work done he'd just have to do it himself.
Chapter Five