How We Unfold (SherlockBBC; Johnlock)

Chapter 10: A Fine Detail Indeed

Lestrade

With a heavy sigh I peel off my coat. I lay it on the dinning room table. My feet carry me down the hall, I flip the lights on as I go. The house is often dark and quiet when I come home.

The bedroom door is left slightly ajar. I place my palm on it and gently push it open, it creaks lightly. I'm left staring at an empty room and an empty bed. I kick my shoes off and leave them by the foot of my bed. Sliding off my wristwatch, I lay it upon the desk by the bed and for a moment my eyes settle on a framed picture. It's an old picture, long since forgotten. Left on the desk as an ornament of a past life. My wife and I forever imprinted on photo paper and captured in a frame. It may seem void, but I just can't bring myself to put the picture away.

The mattress caves under my weight as I sit on the bed. I run my hands down my face in exhaustion. It's been a long day. Too long. I didn't get any feedback from John, like I expected to. Hopefully he'll have something for me tomorrow. Another benefit of calling John for help, although I don't admit this to anyone, is that he can use resources I can't. Or rather, he doesn't have to go through the protocols that I do. What may require paperwork and time for me, only requires a bit of clever manipulation for John.

I pull my phone out of my pant pocket. As I begin to lay it upon the table next to the bed, I hesitate. My thumb slides over the thin glass screen, unlocking it. I shouldn't do this. I need to give it more time, is all. Then things will work out. But the temptation of my heart wins out over the logic of my mind and dial my wife's number. I slowly put the phone to my ear. As it rings loudly at me I suddenly realize I don't know what I should say. I hold my breath as I listen to each ring. The voicemail picks up, I instinctively straighten my posture.

When the recording beeps, I take a breath, "Uh- hey. It's...me."

I frantically search my brain for something to say, "Just calling to see how you're doing." Silence hums at me. I clear my throat. "You're staying at your sisters, then?" I know she's not, "I hope you have a good night." After an awkward pause, I finish, "okay." Then I hang up. I drop my phone on the bed next to me and sit for a moment. That might have been a terrible idea. I think about lying down, but decide I'm not tired enough and instead I go to the living room to watch T.V..

The light from the television flickers against the empty walls of my living room. It paints my body in greys and blues and floods the white carpet. I don't know when exactly it happened, but I fell asleep on the couch. I wake up hours later, cold. It must be early, it's still dark out, but I imagine it will be getting light soon. I pull myself up, my body feels stiff. Sitting up, I fight the sluggishness pulling on my eyelids. After a few restful moments, I pull myself off the couch and click the tv off. Ignoring the cold working it's way up my body, I make it to my room and slide myself into bed. I pull the covers up to my chin, holding in my warmth. I don't want to run my heater and raise my electricity bill, so I have extra blankets on my bed. I run the heater when it gets too cold. But this is endurable. I close my eyes and surrender again to unconsciousness.

My hungry stomach pulls me from my slumber and I open my eyes to a sunlit room. The warm sunlight bathes the walls and warms the air. My stomach growls at me, so I tug the toasty covers from my body and slide my feet into my slippers. With a wide yawn I walk from my bedroom to my kitchen and pull out a bowl and cereal from the cupboards. I eat at the table, but have the T.V. on facing me from the other room. I listen to it's noise but let my mind wander to my work.

An hour from now, when I come into the office, I'll check up on the lab progress on the number sequence from Sam Williams' stomach. I'll have to call John as well, see if he's made any progress himself. I finish my cereal and put my dishes in the sink. Then I quickly shower and dress in my usual suit. I brush my teeth and grab my phone. No texts, no missed calls. I sigh in resignation and tuck my phone into my pocket. I turn the T.V. off on my way out.