Let The Shadows Win

Mother Is Checking In

"Greg!" John exclaimed with something of a gasp, for despite their friendly relations Greg was still a cop. Obviously he wasn't here on official business, but he was always going to be the one to meddle in affairs that really shouldn't be meant for him. If he caught wind of anything odd in the Watson house he would be the first to point in Sherlock's direction, yet this time he had a badge. Sherlock's downfall would go a lot quicker now that Greg was qualified to take him down.
"Hey John!" Greg said with a grin, that big old boyish thing he wore when they hung out just the two of them. They were still best friends; in fact Greg was the only person aside from Sherlock that John still talked to from high school. He was a loyal person, always trying his best to make people happy, yet he often got confused as to which form their happiness materialized best. He wanted John to be safe, and therefore he would try to get rid of Sherlock as much as he possibly could. Something of a traitor in John's mind, yet a friend all the same.
"What are you doing here?" John asked, a perfectly valid question considering Greg had never been extended an invitation. Greg sighed heavily, rolling on his heels as if he was slightly ashamed of something, his smile sort of fading as he thought of what he was going to say.
"I heard through the grapevine that Mary's gone." Greg admitted, looking quite serious now. John nodded stiffly, putting on that saddened face as he dropped his gaze quickly to the ground. He tightened his grip on the door frame, clearing his throat as if this subject really was difficult for him to discuss.
"Ya she um...she left the other day. Didn't say to where." John admitted with some falsified difficulty.
"John I'm so sorry." Greg managed, looking as if he wanted to step up and pat John on the shoulder, however he hesitated for he probably didn't know if he was allowed.
"It's...well I say it's alright. But it's not." John muttered, trying to keep his emotions running high yet all the same time trying to make it look as if he was trying to contain them.
"I know, man I couldn't imagine. If you need anything John, honestly anything at all, just ask. Molly and I will be only too happy to help out." Greg offered, to which John nodded his head with a quick smile.
"Thanks Greg. But I mean, well I think we've got it under control. I need to keep up the house cleaning, and of course I need to cook dinner and stuff, but other than that I think it won't be much different." John admitted with a shrug.
"Well those are some tasks that you can easily pick up, ya?" Greg assumed with an attempt at a cheerful grin.
"Ya, ya I'll manage." John agreed a bit forcefully. "I'm just worried about Rosie, you know? I thought that Mary would at least have said goodbye, but she's taking it hard."
"Why did she leave you?" Greg asked suddenly, as if that was the pure reason he had come. As if he was already doing his own detective work, as if to try to diagnose Sherlock's involvement in it all.
"I...I don't know. She never talked to me about anything; she never even alluded to the fact that something was wrong! She just left." John admitted quietly. Greg nodded, clearing his throat now to deliver the final blow.
"And you think...well you think she really did leave, do you?" he clarified, looking up at John with that annoyingly inquisitive look in his eyes. John paused for a moment, looking at Greg as if trying to think of what the other alternatives were. But of course! Oh he was playing this all wrong, wasn't he? If John claimed to have no knowledge of where Mary had gone, well that only excluded himself from the equation. And it was never John that Greg was after, no he was trying to send someone else to prison. All John had been doing now was pointing in Sherlock's direction...
"It wasn't Sherlock, if that's what you mean." John growled, this time bringing his eyes to meet John's with that stubborn fire burning brightly. Greg held his hands up in surrender; however the look on his face led John to believe that he very much considered it a possibility.
"You never know, John. He's sneaky, and it's no secret that he would rather have Mary dead." Greg pointed out, talking now a little bit roughly, as if he was forgetting all his falsified sympathies.
"She's not dead Greg, she left! How dare you even suggest that he would...how dare you suggest that he would do such a thing!" John exclaimed.
"I'm just looking out for you, I'm just looking from all the angles so as...."
"You're trying to get him locked up again! But I won't let you, I won't have it!" John exclaimed.
"Oh come on! Don't do this again; don't play like there's no way this could be happening! The last time I was right, spot on! You can't now go defending his character when he killed all those people." Greg defended, this time completely abandoning all of his supposed sorrows. Now, as predicted, he was out for blood, Sherlock's blood, to be exact.
"He's changed, he went to therapy! And there's no way he would've killed her...she packed a suitcase! You can look for yourself if you like, but I highly doubt that she would have packed just for fun before getting murdered." John growled.
"He may have done that himself, who knows? Sherlock's smart, John, and this time he knows he's at high risk for getting caught. He'll cover his tracks." Greg insisted.
"I won't let you pin every little happening on him! He's changed, he wouldn't kill her, he just wouldn't." John said flatly, gritting his teeth just a little bit and knowing now that they had descended back into the madness of their teenaged years. They squabbled about Sherlock in just the same manner all while John was with him, with Greg waving all the red flags while it was all John could do but ignore them. At that point to, John had known of Sherlock's destructive past. He hadn't yet counted on his destructive future, yet even now John stood in the exact same position. He was defending Sherlock from a murder that he had in fact committed, standing here with no more than childish arguments rather than facts. For there were no facts, were there? No alibies could prove Sherlock's whereabouts on the day Mary died; if anyone had been following him or even been witness to his walk to the Watson's house they could use that to Greg's advantage!
"He's got motive, and who knows what's going on in his head." Greg growled, as if that should be enough for John to just nod his head and throw the handcuffs on his lover now. Yet there was another angle, there was another lie to spin which would fight better for his own side. And so John took a deep breath, shaking his head regretfully as if such a confession was hard for him to handle.
"No he doesn't." John said plainly. Greg blinked, obviously unsure of what that meant.
"I'm sorry?" Greg clarified.
"He doesn't! He doesn't have a motive." John corrected with a heavy sigh. "He wouldn't kill Mary because I had told him already that I was leaving her for him. That's...that's the big secret. That's why she left."
"You're not serious?" Greg blinked, however John hung his head low in fabricated shame.
"Ya, I'm serious. But I didn't want to tell anyone because it's embarrassing. I didn't want this all to be a big scandal, but...well you know me! You know how much I loved him before, why should it be any different now? We both decided that it was time to make it official, and I told Mary that I wanted a divorce. So she packed her bags and left." John managed quietly. At first Greg looked as if he didn't know what to do, he blinked for a while before taking a deep breath. He shouldn't be surprised of course, for as soon as it was announced that Sherlock was getting out of prison it would only take minimal knowledge of John's past with him to know where he would be going first. They were star struck lovers before; however could they act any differently now that they were old enough to understand what it was they were doing? How could they resist?
"You're saying you had an affair with him, too?" Greg clarified.
"Yes." John agreed quietly. "But it's not...well considering where we were when he was taken away; it was more as if it was cheating on him with Mary. When he came back it felt almost loyal."
"That's not the right attitude, God John! That's exactly what I was afraid would happen!" Greg exclaimed.
"What, that I'd be reunited with my true love? Well I'm so sorry to have bothered you with that, Greg. I'm so sorry that I'm actually happy!" John growled.
"No, NO! John you idiot, can't you see that he's not where your happiness lies? Can't you see that you're getting caught in his web again? You're ignoring the obvious and just..." Greg shook his head, cutting off his sentence as if he couldn't stand to speak any longer. "You're making a mistake."
"Well there's nothing I can do about it now, can I?" John growled. Greg sighed heavily, shaking his head before he could say anything he might later regret. Because he was right on all points, that clever Greg Lestrade. He knew full well that Sherlock had killed Mary, or at least had something to do with her disappearance. He also knew that John had been reincarnated back into that idiotic teenager who couldn't see past his own heartbeat; sacrificing everything he had ever owned so as to be closer to the one person who would ultimately be the death of him. But it was like an addiction, wasn't it? Being with Sherlock was an addiction, for he couldn't go without him, and when they were together it was just miraculous! Yet there was always a chance that when they did meet it would be the last time, just as you never knew how much was too much, there might come a day when John just absorbs too much of Sherlock into himself, that or Sherlock decides that day would be the correct day to die. The man was a monster, the man was a drug, and most of all the man was the love of John's life. So what difference did it make, really? Greg was about ready to turn away, there was finality in the way he held himself, however just as he was beginning to say his final goodbyes there was a sort of deafening sound that came up the road. There was the sound of a car, yet an ancient one, struggling down the paved roads just to stop in front of the Watson household. And that usually wasn't a problem, for guests often frequented this house, yet the car itself was enough to stay Greg Lestrade. It was enough for him to turn and clench his fists in unprecedented anger, and of course it was enough for him to hold his ground one last time. For the car, of course, was that big black hearse looking thing that so often frequented John's nightmares. The transportation of Mycroft Holmes, the very thing that would snake up and down the roads, ancient and falling apart, driving the two pale brothers in their younger days. And now it was back, driven not by Mycroft but evidently by Sherlock, and somehow it still worked.
"Speak of the Devil." Greg spat, however he could do nothing but turn and wait for Sherlock's appearance. John's heart skipped a beat, for not only that car but its driver was enough to get him excited, yet he needed to keep his enthusiasm in check now that Greg was here. Then again, he was no longer hiding anything except the fact that he was, apparently, a very morally incorrect human being. In Greg's eyes now the crime of the matter was John and Sherlock's affair, something of course that he could not formally charge for. In Greg's mind at least, he was hopeless to do anything but wag a disapproving finger. That is of course until he found more evidence to support his first theory. And so how could John resist taunting him a little bit? For it was obvious that Greg had done his fair share of humiliation. Now with the arrival of the man in question, well it was almost a stroke of good luck. Sherlock got out of the car in that very elegant, suspicious way he liked to compose himself in. his head appeared first, yet he didn't quite step around from the car, so the top of his head really was the only thing visible. Those two eyes peered from overtop of the black hood, evidently a little bit unnerved as to find Greg trespassing in what he must consider his territory. Even in school these two had never gotten along very well, for Greg was always suspicious and had been the one to call the cops on Sherlock in the end. There had been periods when they tolerated each other, yet John knew now that with the official diagnosis of Sherlock basically being poison, well there would be no cooperation today.
"Greg, funny to see you here." Sherlock commented, finally closing the door and limping over to the sidewalk. The limp appeared to be worse than usual, perhaps because of the trauma Greg's presence announced, that or the cane was just making it look more obvious. Needless to say it was an almost elegant entrance, for with the clicking of the cane against the cement sidewalk Sherlock appeared almost as a menacing yet well respected villain.
"I would say it's funny to see you here too, but according to John, you've been a regular." Greg muttered with an almost threatening smile.
"Where I frequent is my own business, Greg." Sherlock muttered, his face turning sour just as soon as Greg's attitude emerged.
"You got the old car running then?" John commented obviously, trying to change the topic of conversation onto the car instead of on their new company. Sherlock nodded, turning back so as to gaze at the rusted, miserable machine that sat in the road.
"Yes I did. It's in no way glamourous, but it'll do the trick. If I could walk normally my lack of transportation wouldn't be an issue, but well..." Sherlock sighed, finishing his sentence by smacking his walking cane against his leg, so as to draw even more attention to the uselessness of it.
"Do you have a license?" Greg wondered suspiciously.
"No." Sherlock shrugged.
"Insurance?" Greg added.
"Nope." Sherlock admitted.
"And is that car registered under your name?" Greg asked finally.
"Probably not." Sherlock said proudly, seeing now that this was a game of taunting. He was basically flirting with the legal system, yet in the carefree manner he went about it there was obviously nothing Greg could do except frown in a disappointed sort of way.
"That sounds legal." John commented sarcastically, holding out a hand so as to summon Sherlock closer. "I've been telling Greg all about what happened, for he was nice enough to stop over and pay us a visit. He's very concerned for my wellbeing." John added proudly, taking Sherlock's hand now and pulling him closer, knowing full well that Greg was watching all while he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, smiling lovingly at him for just a moment before kissing him maybe a bit too passionately than would be expected in such a public place. However he did so because he knew that it would infuriate Greg, and of course it worked.
"Oh come on John, you don't have to be a baby about it!" Greg whined, ducking his eyes away as if he felt he really shouldn't be looking at such a public display of affection. Sherlock was the one to pull away, looking at John in a rather confused way while John smiled at him, that smile he wore when he was just messing around. Sherlock nodded, as if now he realized what was going on, and kissed John once more for emphasis before untangling himself and leaning against the doorframe. Their hands were still interlocked, yet now the two of them stared very challengingly at Greg, as if demanding he now make a move to oppose them. Yet Greg was obviously helpless to do anything but frown in a disapproving way, for as confident as he was to lecture John alone he knew that he really was no match for Sherlock. Greg was afraid of Sherlock, which when comparing the heights and widths of the two, seemed almost pathetic. Yet there was an obvious discomfort, the type that was very obvious in the man's gray eyes.
"Is there anything else you wanted to talk to us about? Anymore accusations you want to throw around?" John asked in a rather snarky way, to which Greg just sighed in a defeated manner, shaking his head with a frown.
"No I think I've about covered it." he admitted with a groan. "Keep it in mind, John. And always know that I'm here for you, no matter how deep you fall into that pit."
"I know, Greg. But there are times when I really could just do without a ladder." John agreed, clutching Sherlock's hand tighter and waving Greg off with a little sarcastic grin. Greg just nodded to them both in farewell, walking rather stiffly back to his car and climbing inside. A failed trip for him, off to point fingers when in reality he was showed a rather particular finger in return. John stood with Sherlock in the doorway until Greg's car had vanished off towards the direction of his house, finally turning to give him a kiss when finally it was clear that they were alone.
"Well that's that." John decided with a sigh, closing the door and walking into the house with Sherlock following behind.
"What was he doing here?" Sherlock wondered.
"Oh he was here doing what he does best, asking questions and accusing you for everything from Mary's vanishing to global warming." John groaned, sitting down onto the couch and looking over at the abandoned dinner table. Rosie had been sitting there when he last saw her, but now it appeared as though she had left. Oh well.
"Well he's never wrong. I am responsible for her vanishing, and I drive a fuel guzzling car. Without a license too, which he seems to deem a crime." Sherlock admitted with a shameless little grin.
"That's sort of illegal." John warned, to which Sherlock shrugged.
"A lot of what I do is illegal. I'd be lucky if they locked me up for disobeying the rules of the road." Sherlock decided. John nodded, looking up at where Sherlock limped about the living room, seemingly too on edge to take a seat.
"Are you here to stay?" John wondered presumptuously.
"If that's alright." Sherlock agreed, sounding a bit shy as his lips upturned into a guilty little smile.
"That's always alright, Sherlock. My house is your house. Let me go and get a bottle of wine." John agreed with a grin, getting to his feet and going over to the liquor cabinet so as to find the best bottle to fit the occasion. That occasion was success, of course, not only in ridding their lives of Mary but also in ridding themselves temporarily of Greg. Together they seemed to be untouchable, really. Together it seemed as though their problems simply turned to dust before them, and that alone was cause for celebration.