Lestrade had just left John’s flat. The man was a mess. It had been four months since Sherlock’s fall and it had impacted them both. Graffiti had begun appearing all over the city displaying the words "I believe in Sherlock Holmes" which was also backed by -from what he understood- a rather larger, and more global, internet effort to regain Sherlock’s credibility. While it touched him and John that people cared that much for the detective he knew deep down Sherlock would have hated it and that made him laugh.
He pulled his long coat tighter around his body. When he had stopped by Jonh’s flat it had been because Mrs. Hudson had called him personally John been absolutely hammered. It was sad to see him like that and even sadder to see Mrs. Hudson attempting to deal with it. He had dragged the ex-army doctor from the living room where he had sat on the sofa with his laptop shouting at something or other that was on the internet. While there were support groups forming for Sherlock there were just as many hate groups that bashed every effort the supporters made.
He bit the inside of his cheek as he turned a corner and saw a cafe. Greg had caught a cab from the office to 221B once his shift was over so he had no where to go but home, but Greg didn’t want to go home. He and his wife were going through a rougher patch than usual and he couldn’t do with the yelling at the moment. So instead he made his way across the street just as the snow began to fall from the darkened sky. He’d just stop for a coffee.
He pulled his long coat tighter around his body. When he had stopped by Jonh’s flat it had been because Mrs. Hudson had called him personally John been absolutely hammered. It was sad to see him like that and even sadder to see Mrs. Hudson attempting to deal with it. He had dragged the ex-army doctor from the living room where he had sat on the sofa with his laptop shouting at something or other that was on the internet. While there were support groups forming for Sherlock there were just as many hate groups that bashed every effort the supporters made.
He bit the inside of his cheek as he turned a corner and saw a cafe. Greg had caught a cab from the office to 221B once his shift was over so he had no where to go but home, but Greg didn’t want to go home. He and his wife were going through a rougher patch than usual and he couldn’t do with the yelling at the moment. So instead he made his way across the street just as the snow began to fall from the darkened sky. He’d just stop for a coffee.
