Fic: Life in the Ruins (8/9)
art evian_fork
Life In The Ruins
A BBC Sherlock fanfic by arwen_kenobi
Chapter 8 of 9
Master Post can be found here
Sherlock at least had the decency to wait until John got home. Lestrade spent most of his workday in fear that Sherlock would burst into the A&E or his consulting room at the clinic - he'd been rehired there after the book was no longer there to occupy his time. He is shocked when he hears nothing until the he gets a call from John demanding to know if he'd had known about this all along. Lestrade assures him that he did not and it seems that Sherlock has given John no inkling that he knew first. "Are you alright?" is probably the most ridiculous thing he can say right now but he says it anyway.
"I'm not sure," he tells him after actually pausing for a moment. "I think I need to be on my own for a bit. I'm sending him to yours so try not to have a heart attack when you see him." Lestrade thinks that that's John prepping him for his first sight of Sherlock alive in a year but really it's to warn him about the state of Sherlock's face.
"Jesus Christ..."
Sherlock's nose has been set but the black eye is going to take at least a week to fade away and his jaw barely escaped being broken as well. "Are your daughters at home?" he asks.
Tess is not but Louise and Karen are. He goes upstairs first to warn them before they come downstairs. Louise shoves her hands in her pockets to keep from hugging him or fetching new bandages while Karen proclaims him an idiot. "Not as good a plan as you thought, was it?"
Sherlock grumbles something that's lost in him collapsing onto the couch. Louise offers food, which Sherlock of course declines. Karen threatens calling the media unless he eats something so he accepts a bit of their left over dinner eventually. The girls respectfully vanish upstairs to leave the two of them to talk - Lestrade fully expects that Karen is poised at the top of the stairs listening but he really isn't bothered enough to chase her back to her room.
"You waited for him at Baker Street?" Lestrade prompts.
"In disguise," Sherlock begins. "He had stopped on the way home to pick up some groceries. I don't know why I didn't just take off the disguise right when he saw me but I followed him up, in character, and tried to talk to him that way."
Lestrade groans. "When will you ever learn that dramatics don't make things easier?"
"I know now. He fainted when I pulled off the beard."
"Seriously?" He forgets that John has PTSD quite often but he really hadn't thought John to be that sort of a man when it came to a shock like this.
"For thirty seconds on the landing and once he came to he punched me. Several times." He holds up a hand when Lestrade moves. "Don't tell me I deserve it; I deserve worse and I know it."
"Actually I was going to find you some clean bandages. You can keep talking - I'll hear you from down the hall."
He talks but does not say anything of substance. He tells him that John had hauled him into the flat, instantly guilty and had done what work he had seen. Sherlock had tried to tell his story as best as he could, how he'd faked his death and how it had all been to protect him. "I didn't mean for it to take so long. I thought I could accomplish everything within a month or so - I did not plan for this. I did not want this." Lestrade busies himself with re bandaging and Sherlock presses on before any comment can be made on what he's said. He finishes with John saying that he needs to be alone for now and that he'll text him when he's ready to see him again. Lestrade doesn't pry, whatever has been said is between Sherlock and John, but whatever has been said has cut Sherlock deeply. The deepest that Lestrade has seen anybody cut since getting the call from John that Sherlock was dead.
"I didn't expect to be forgiven," Sherlock is saying now. "I was hoping for him to understand the logic of what had to be done - "
"Completely wrong approach there, mate," Lestrade near laughs. "Dramatics aren't good for making difficult things easy but expecting logic from someone who has been that emotionally effected is quite another thing entirely." He really hopes that Sherlock had phrased it better to John that he is to him right now.
Sherlock makes a noise that is a perfect combination of a growl and a groan. "I know that now, thank you Lestrade." He bats Lestrade's hands away and buries his face in his own. "He understood nothing and I do not blame him for it. I expected this. I deserve this. Why am I so...so hurt?" He has the decently to sound confused and guilty when he says it. It takes a beat for Lestrade to realise that he actually means it.
He looks at the man again and sees the old Sherlock that is once again angered and confused by normal, emotional, human behavior and a new Sherlock that did everything he knew how to keep the person that meant the most to him safe only to have that man spurn him for it. Sherlock hasn't told him how he did it and Lestrade pushes the itching desire to know that right here and right now away. The how doesn't matter, and it won't matter to John once he's cooled off a bit.
"He'll come around," Lestrade assures him. "Eventually." John may be hurt but Lestrade has to believe that he'll want Sherlock back in his life regardless of whatever he had to do.
The Christmas Gala comes floating back to him and what he'd said about Mycroft. "Did John tell you that he suspected you were alive all along?"
Judging by the look on Sherlock's face it looks like he hadn't. Lestrade prays that the man stays alive during this speech but he tells Sherlock about the past year, about how bad John was, about the book (which Sherlock has read, actually), and about his ideas. "You should see those notebooks if he ever lets you see them. They are insane."
"That explains it," Sherlock sighs. "It's one thing for a friend to return from the grave. It's quite another to have a friend return to you in confirmation of a deception you hoped you had imagined."
"I wouldn't say that John hoped he was wrong."
"Perhaps not," Sherlock sighs. "But I have disappointed him. Again."
"You did it to save him."
Sherlock nods. "I did" is all he says for a long moment as he picks at his food. He eats about two thirds of it before setting it aside. Lestrade puts on the telly for some background noise and they're fifteen minutes into some awful game show when his mobile beeps. Send him back.
He turns the screen to face Sherlock. "Told you," he grins. He can't help doing so and he can't help having already mostly forgiven him. He still wants to hear how Sherlock did it and he wants to tear apart any notion Sherlock had of this being the only way but, really, he's back. He's back and that's a miracle and Lestrade can't find it in himself to be angry at that.
Sherlock does not feel as convinced. It's written all over his face and Lestrade's joking promise that John won't hit him again does not help. "He's letting me back in to his home," he corrects. "Not anywhere else."
Lestrade thinks long and hard before he speaks. He reaches his hand out to clasp Sherlock's shoulder and he doesn't feel any resistance when hand meets coat. "You knew this was going to happen," he reminds him. "You got his trust instantly when you first met him. Now you're going to have to earn it properly."
Sherlock shakes his head. "I'm not sure I can."
"If he means as much to you as I know he does you will bloody well try. He's willing to at least let you do that much if he's inviting you back." He doesn't want to watch this friendship splinter. He doesn't want to see what both men become if this falls apart after all. "You owe him that. You owe him whatever he decides you owe him and you knew that going in."
Sherlock offers no argument. He thanks Lestrade and heads back out into the night. He rings John instead of texting him to tell him that he's on his way.
"How is he?"
"Destroyed," Lestrade reports. "He knows he deserves whatever you decide to throw at him but I don't think he expected it to hurt this much."
"Brain without a heart remember?" He is far too snide for Lestrade's liking.
"Now you know that's not true. His motivations are the same whether he actually died or didn't. Remember that much if you choose to remember nothing else as he grovels at your feet for the next while."
It's quiet on John's end. Far too quiet. "I'm not sure I can forgive him. I...I don't know how we come back from this."
Lestrade tells him exactly what he told Sherlock. That they are who they are and that if they value their friendship they'll at least try. "I'm not going to tell you to take him back, I'm not you and he didn't hurt me quite the same way. You care about him still, let him try to earn you back."
"You sound like you're giving me relationship advice."
"Close enough, I reckon."
"I'll try," John finally agrees. "I'll try to try at any rate."
"That's all anyone can ask of you."
Lestrade calls a staff meeting after he gets off the phone with John. Something quiet at the Yard's local and well out of earshot of anyone who might want to overhear. He briefly wonders if it is prudent to be telling everyone now but decides that the news will be out soon enough, Sherlock hadn't come to him or left him in disguise after all. If he's doing that, he also has to admit, then John is safe. Everyone is safe.
His staff meeting consists of Donovan, Anderson, and Dimmock. The three of them think him mad for a few moments until Donovan decides that she believes him. "You wouldn't have called us here otherwise," she offers as explanation to the group. "If you were going mad you'd be doing it quietly at home and not drawing us all into it. In any case, we'll know for sure soon enough."
Famous last words. The papers explode with the story and for fortnight they are crawling to know the truth. Camp Baker Street remains mum and the one time that a reporter manages to accost John on the street results in an assault charge that both Lestrade and Mycroft work to make disappear. "Idiot deserved it," he informs his daughters. "That does not mean that violence is the answer to anything, and if I hear or any of you punching reporters I will have you spend the night in jail."
All three daughters roll their eyes simultaneously. Especially Karen. When she'd fought those girls for Lila Jones Lestrade had bought her ice cream.
The truth does eventually come out and everyone worships and grovels at the feet of the Reichenbach Hero and his Devoted Friend. Neither speak to the press, naturally, and it eventually simmers down to something where Sherlock feels comfortable coming onto a case without being followed. It's nothing that would have bothered Sherlock in the old days but Lestrade thinks that he's tired of worrying about who is following him and why.
The first crime scene Sherlock comes to is a double homicide involving two flatmates. He does not draw attention to the fact that John is not with him and he solves the crime in ten minutes: they'd been fighting over the television remote. In those ten minutes, Sherlock looks to his right twelve times, he waits for responses that only John would give four times, and he actually calls for him twice. It's the last bit of data that is especially telling to Lestrade: Sherlock would make the mistake once and then never repeat it normally - twice in a ten minute period is usually an unforgivable lapse.
John, to the best of Lestrade's knowledge, is proceeding on willpower alone. He works, he's rejoined the gym, and he's long disabled comments on the blog. Can't say that anybody blames him for that one. He hasn't written anything on it since the thank you for the support with regards to the book.
"Have you read the book yet?" Lestrade asks Sherlock on the one month anniversary since his return and on the second night he climbs over Lestrade's garden wall for a smoke and a chat with something that will talk back to him properly. This time Sherlock slowly nods out a yes.
"All things considering it is well done," he admits. "Dramatic, sentimental, and romantic at points but well done."
That was dramatic, sentimental, and romantic praise coming from Sherlock. Of course, Lestrade has to ruin it. "I think writing out the last case nearly killed him."
"The past year nearly killed him. Thank you for assuring that it didn't."
"I didn't do anything."
"Yes, you did." Sherlock scoffs. "You did far more good than I did."
To anyone else, to Lestrade a year ago, this would have just been Sherlock harshly correcting yet another thing he'd got wrong or some opinion he had dared speak aloud. This time, and it's either because he's gotten better at hearing it or Sherlock is letting him hear it, he hears the honest gratitude and the self loathing.
"You did what you knew how to," Lestrade tries to soothe. Again. "It was an extreme - both heartless and selfless. John knows that."
"He won't talk to me," Sherlock starts again. "He talks to me about the boring things. About the milk and the rent and the weather and all the things that he doesn't care about. That don't matter. He doesn't talk to me about anything else."
"If it helps he isn't too much better with me." It's true. John and him have apparently silently and mutually decided to not talk about it when they go for lunch. This is also the only time he ever sees John anymore. "He needs time and he'll come 'round."
Sherlock angrily finishes the cigarette and lights up another one. This time he doesn't explode about how John is being idiotic. He's not quite sure whether or not to call that improvement.
One month and one week after the return he gets a call from John. "I'm on the roof." It's the first time he's set foot up there in weeks as far as Lestrade or Mycroft knows. When he arrives John is sitting on the ledge facing the city below with his knees tucked under his chin.
"Alright?" He is running out of ways to stop asking after John's welfare from sounding stupid.
"Just sit."
"Wh-"
"With me. Please."
"You're not...."
"Don't be stupid, I wouldn't do that to him. Now now. Just sit."
Lestrade does so. Bunching his legs up like that is less comfortable for him than it is for John and he feels too awkward sitting so he's starting at him. He gulps and slowly lets his legs out to dangle over the edge. When he does not immediately plummet to his death he begins to relax.
"You were afraid of heights all this time?" John is looking at him now and is genuinely shocked and confused. Understandable considering he's never shown a care for it before.
"Not really," he clarifies. "I'm not too comfortable with being high up with so much of myself exposed." He waggles his feet a little and, while his stomach does lurch, he already feels much better. "Not usually anyway. Seems I'm getting used to it."
John smiles to himself. "It's amazing what you can get used to isn't it?"
Almost there, Lestrade thinks. He's almost there...
"And it's amazing what you can't get used to either"
He's almost there and it's not Lestrade's job to push him either way.
"I didn't have much left in me," John admits. "I don't think I would have done it myself in the end but I would have let it happen, or actively sought it. I'm as terrified of being bored as he is." He sighs. "I just don't think he understands exactly what happened and exactly what he did."
Lestrade shakes his head. "He knows and he hates himself for it."
"He told me it was better to have me alive and hating him then dead and liking him."
"I don't think he planned for exactly what that would mean. To you or to him." He doesn't mean for it to sound like a laugh but it is what it is.
John sighs, which also sounds like a laugh, and shakes his head. "Of course not."
Lestrade wants to plead Sherlock's case but he bites his tongue. He wants to tell John that he needs to talk to Sherlock. To listen and watch and hear and observe what is screaming out of him. The man is going to explode in a whirlwind of fury if something doesn't give soon. Sherlock is trying but the man's patience can only hold so long. He needs an answer. If John wants him out he needs to make the decision soon.
When Lestrade leaves the rooftop Sherlock allows him to glimpse him from the shadows. He mouths 'he's fine' at him and then orders him back home. He appears to follow.
The next time he sees John is at the next case he calls Sherlock in on. It is as awkward as all hell but it's a step in the right direction.
As disturbing as Sherlock's return from the grave was, and still is in some ways, life still goes on. Louise is preparing to start teaching, Tess is steeling herself for what horrors await her when she assigned her undergraduate drama students, and Karen is attacking the idea of moving to Wales with cautious vigour. Not because she's any more nervous than anyone else moving away from home for the first time but because things aren't quite right here. It is natural that Karen be troubled, her understanding with Sherlock also includes John, but she does not look pleased to be leaving things in disarray. She feels better now that John has started coming along on cases but it still worried. He tells her that things are going alright and tries to sound optimistic but, really, it's hard to watch a team that used to work so brilliantly just failing utterly at being what it was. The potential is still there, as are the foundations, but it just is not coming together.
John is torn between whether he should forgive Sherlock or not when, really, John forgave Sherlock the second he saw him walk through that door alive. Lestrade had done the same, would have done the same for John or his girls too. That's what families and friends do.
Lestrade may not know what happened between Karen and Sherlock in those ten minutes nearly seven years ago but there some things that he does know. He does know that they have each other's numbers. He is certain they don't talk often if at all - Karen is a teenage girl after all no matter how interesting Sherlock finds her - but the fact that he has her number in his contacts list at all says everything. He suspects that Karen has never said anything since when the first text was made it was from his phone and Karen was still quite young.
He is not surprised when he checks his phone and finds that he has apparently called John today. He goes up to Karen's room and knocks. "May I come in?"
When she lets him in he almost wishes she didn't. The place is a bomb zone as she tries to sort her possessions into some semblance of order. He'd reminded her that it wasn't like she was moving across the world and they could always come back for more. She shoves a pile of clothes off the bed to make space for her father and shoves some books in the corner so she can sit in her desk chair.
Lestrade doesn't bother beating around the bush. "So what did John tell you?"
Karen's eyes widen at being found out and Lestrade gives her his patented "your father is a copper, remember?" expression. She relaxes when she also sees that she's not in any trouble.
"Alright," she shrugs.
"Nothing new?"
"Don't think so."
"So why call him?"
"I wanted him to understand Sherlock's side - I don't think he's much paid attention to it."
"He's not obligated to," Lestrade reminds her. As much as everyone can understand the hows and the whys of what Sherlock had done it didn't escape the fact that it was not good and he was utterly at John's mercy as to whether or not that was a surmountable obstacle in the friendship.
Karen shrugs again. "Just wanted to remind him," she says. "He's different now. Different from when he left like he was different from who he was before John came. I don't think he understands that quite as well as the rest of us."
He can't help but be suspicious. "Did Sherlock put you up to it?"
"No!" Karen shouts, indignant. "And if he had I wouldn't have done it. I've already told him that he has to fix it himself."
There's something that Karen is skirting around. He gives her a once over and knows it for sure. Sherlock and her have talked and she knows something. Something extra but not something new. It's not like John or Sherlock are being secretive about anything; John because he's too tired and Sherlock because he's trying to show John that he won't keep secrets like he used to.
"He does believe it will get better though," she tells him. "He sounded fairly sure."
"That may have been more for your benefit, love."
Karen shakes her head. "Don't think so. There was something he said."
She tells Lestrade about how the last thing that John had said to Sherlock face to face had been that friends protect people. John had admitted that he'd done that much and that he really should punch Sherlock over how well he'd done it. Either John had forgotten he actually had punched Sherlock or was considering a second one.
Then Karen had said that she thought Sherlock would let John to anything to him if he even had a chance at a hint of forgiveness. John had been silent after that and then had rung off. It was strange, Lestrade had to agree. It was also hopeful. This was nothing that John didn't already know but it might just be the first time that anyone has flat out told him. Sherlock certainly wouldn't, not now and probably not even on their best days, and Lestrade has considered it obvious.
And Karen - oh Karen, who he's pretty sure shouted Sherlock into consciousness after that scare a few years back - is certainly someone to tell things as they are and let facts be facts.
"Could be alright after all."
"It was always going to be alright," Karen near chides. "The question is when."
Chapter Nine