Redefining Redemption (Joan H Watson and GJLestrade)

"An affair?" Joan pursed her lips at this, "Your wife doesnt' know what she's missing, really." She tried to reassure the man, nodding in confirmation as he told her about the divorce. "I'm glad you told me." Joan glanced out the window and suddenly realized how late it was. She knew it'd be a few days before she saw Greg again unless she asked him something.

"C-can you stay here, tonight?" She asked him softly, finishing her tea.

Greg paused in drinking his tea as if poleaxed. Stay? Christ, what now? "Stay? Here? With you?" Greg couldn't keep the suprise out of his voice. What does she mean, after everything she's said? He was none the wiser as to her motivations. However, if she needed him, he wasn't going to abandon her. He missed being needed. He missed being close to someone. Missed the physical contact... Oh, God. How can I stay if she doesn't want...that? Being in the same place, knowing she was a few feet away... "Is that a good idea?"

"Yes...."Joan said slowly, a little confused, "Not like I'll make you stay with Mrs. Hudson." She chuckled dryly before looking at Greg with a confused expression, "Why? do you have to go into work especially early tomorrow?" She wrinkled her nose, "I think it's a good idea, if you do." She just needed someone here, to know they were a few feet away, to know that it was Greg especially.

"Actually, I don't have work tomorrow. Strictly speaking. I've been staying at work to finish paperwork and such. Not much to go home for, these days. The boss is on to me though, told me to take my days off. Doesn't mind if I stay late after work, but he doesn't want me near the place on my days off." Greg sighed. "Apparently, I don't live in the division. His words, not mine. Only trouble is, when I'm at home...bugger it, it might be a roof over my head but it isn't home, and I'm staring at four walls, nothing to occupy me. Last weekend, I spent the whole two days asleep. That can't be good, can it?"

"Oh, that's good, I guess?" Joan told Greg while raising an eyebrow. Did he want to work late? How did he feel about that? "Hmm, I get that. Really, I do. It's not home to you anymore, it feels empty." she paused, "I mean, if you want....you can stay here for the night." She smiled, "I'll make sure you won't sleep two whole days in a row."

"Let's be clear about this. I...really, really don't want to embarrass you but I need to be clear. You mean on the sofa, right? It's just...I don't think I can. God, this is going to sound stupid but I don't think I could. There's nowhere I can sleep. I can't sleep in a chair, I'll feel like hell in the morning. I can't sleep with you...well, I could, but you don't want that, not right now. I...can't sleep in his room...and I can't sleep on...there." He indicated the sofa. "I just..." Greg swallowed a lump in his throat. "I remember him...lying on it...Sorry, the memory is too vivid in my head. I'm being a stupid tosser for this, but I don't know what to do."

Joan arched an eyebrow at Greg. What was he trying to get at? As he began to speak, her eyes widened and she shook her head, "Of course I mean on the sofa, you thought I meant?" Her eyes shown realization and she almost blushed. Oh shit, he had thought? Jesus h. christ. Joan felt embarrassed, whether or not Greg wanted her to not feel that way, she did. "N-no, I understand." She paused, looking at her empty tea mug and wishing there was more so she could have a few seconds of solace."You don't want to sleep with me anyways, toss and turn all night." She paused and looked up at him "I..understand. Too soon." She murmured. "I just, I miss him and the feeling of someone in the house and it's too much to ask, forget I mentioned it."

"Joan," Greg wanted desperately not to feel the way he was feeling, which was stupid and embarrassed. "It's okay. I want to stay, really. I guess...I can try the sofa. I'm being stupid about it. Just so you know, though, if you asked...if you wanted...more...I'd be there in a blink." He smiled a little sadly. "I just think that it would be way too soon for either of us, that's all."

"No, it's alright." Joan said a little more firmly, "We still want to retain his memory, I get it." She glanced at the sofa, swearing to herself that she still saw the outline of her friend resting upon it, "I want to to stay, but that' selfish of me." She realized this as she said it. Even if Greg didn't have a family per say to go home to, he still had a home, he still had work; but she could also see the sadness in him. He was grieving too. She wanted to comfort him but she didn't want to overstep his boundaries and her own personal boundaries, even if she wanted to. She knew immediately jumping into bed with Greg would just make complicated situations arise and their feelings get all confused as to whether they actually want a relationship at all or if it's just pity sex, not even pity, just sadness.

At this moment, she wished Sherlock were here. She wished with all her heart that she could excuse herself from the chair and go into Sherlock's room and ask his advice, even though he would pretend like he wasn't listening and go on about Joan having much better important things to do than the detective inspector. More? In a blink? He's suggesting....
Joan felt her cheeks flush a bit despite herself. He was willing to do that? he felt that way? But he was right, oh he was right. " I agree." She replied with a wan and sad smile, "Too...Too much going on right now or not going on for that matter." She amended her statement, "but, if you ever feel like you're too caught up in your work or bored, you can come over here or we can try to get some coffee and not talk about work?" Because work would only remind them of their lack of friend and partner. It would only open up the cracks. "I...I want to help you." She whispered, "you're helping me with all of....this." She gestured around the room. "I want to help you in return." She knew he was hurting, she knew that he knew but was denying it somewhat, she wanted them both to realize what was happening to them and deal with it, even if it was difficult.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Look, at the end of the day, it's just good to have a friend. I'll stay for tonight, then maybe tomorrow, we could go out somewhere, you know, just a walk...Look," he chuckled. "I hope you really won't now get the wrong idea but I have an overnight bag in the car, I don't need to go home or anything. It's only in case I have to stay over anywhere, or get stuck at work, means I have a clean shirt and underwear and a toothbrush handy. So please don't think I had anything planned. Oh, God, that would just be too mortifying." He laughed, couldn't help it. The whole situation was fucked up in so many ways. "Why don't we call out for a take-away? See what's on the tele?"

"We could go to Regent's park if you want." Joan suggested with a small smile, she liked the idea of Greg staying here for a few days. "I won't get the wrong idea because it might be the right idea." She teased calmly, "Prepared. That's how I see it." She raised an eyebrow at him, "Hmm, not sure if you did or didn't have anything planned." She teased him more before shaking her head, "Don't worry about it, not embarrassed by your embarrassment." She paused, glanced at the TV that she kept on during the night and nodded in agreement, "Probably just the late news and crap to be honest..."But maybe that's what they needed. She put the tele on and looked at him, "You want take away now? I can always make something too." She hadn't really made anything for anyone in awhile.

[ I am having so many feels now. There are a lot of things Joan wants to say right now but won't. Le sigh. ]

"That would be nice, actually. I can sit here and watch somebody else work for once." He cracked a teasing smile again and then looked wistfully at his cup. "Another cuppa wouldn't come amiss right now, either." A sudden thought hit him. "Hey, how about a trip to the zoo tomorrow?"

"The zoo, really?" Joan wrinkled her nose but nodded as she got up to retrieve Greg's glass as well as her own, "That'd be fine with me." She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment until she turned with two mugs of hot tea. She handed Greg his own and smiled, "There you go, um, I have fresh towels and linens in the closet if you need them."

"Thanks. So...you going to cook then? I can help. At least, tell me what to do and I'll play Johnny to your Fanny...Craddock? You remember? No? Bit before your time maybe." Greg accepted the tea and sipped appreciatively. "I might grab a shower later, if you don't mind? I came straight from work." For a brief--very gratifying--moment, the vision of Joan in the shower with him flashed across his brain and was shoved away almost as fast.

Had Sherlock still been around to see, he would sure as hell have deduced just what Greg was thinking. Joan had her face turned away, thank God. He schooled his features into a smile and sipped his tea again, confused and wondering exactly if saying yes to staying had been a good idea.

"mm-hmm, it won't be anything special, mind you, haven't really had the chance to go out grocery shopping." She informed the detective sheepishly as she tidied up the kitchen table a bit and got rid of the garbage. The name sounded familiar and Joan had a mind to know it was related to something to do with cooking, "Bit before my time." She admitted, "But. I understand what you're saying, critique my cooking all you want."

"No, that's perfectly fine. Just don't use all the hot water." She informed him not teasingly just in a matter of fact tone. She tried not to think of the other things, his overnight bag, his lack of a home, her lack of someone here. She began to boil some water for the pasta she was making before she turned to Greg, "Towels in that closet down there. "she pointed to it, "And I can make up the sofa as a bed if you want." That way, it'd look less like Sherlock had been there.

The trouble is, Greg thought, watching Joan go through the motions of setting water to boil and locating the pasta, Joan is kind and even now, when she's hurting, she's still kind. It was that inate compassion as well as her unerring ability to see someone's potential that he admired, her willingness to recognise the outward mask and see the real person beneath it, her boundless patience while that potential surfaced.

He sipped his tea and stared out the kitchen window. Yes, this is a bad idea, but I am going to do it anyway. She needs me right now, as a friend, and God help me, but I really need to feel needed right now. Anything else would be an unmitigated disaster though, he felt sure. They were both too raw. Greg's head knew that he was right. His heart was a different--and more stubborn--matter.

Joan set about boiling the tea and inwardly worrying. He's staying a couple of nights. It'll be fine, just take some sleeping pills. But what if something happens in the middle of the night? What could happen? What if he has a nightmare. What if I have one? I wouldn't want him to think it was a ploy to get him in my bed. Joan thought as the steam emitted from the kettle. She poured the hot water into a teapot with the loose tea leaves in the strainer.

She waited for Greg to finish his tea before she poured him some more. She smiled shyly before she added the pasta noodles to the boiling pot. She sighed, not sure of what to say as her blue gray eyes met his. Was there anything to say? Would saying something ruin the quiet moments? Maybe they didn't need to talk.

Thoughts wizzed through Greg's head as he leaned against the counter top, sipping tea and watching Joan work, too many thoughts to adequately process. He fleetingly wondered if this was how Sherlock had felt at his worst, too much data to process...or not enough.

Enjoying the comfortable silence that developed between them, Greg tried to sort out what he was feeling. Had she known, he wondered, how he felt, how he could potentially feel about her? As long as that lanky git had been alive there had been a barrier; a tacit understanding that nothing else would happen, that Sherlock came first in Joan's eyes and she would dash off after him at a moments notice because that's what they did. They were a team, albeit an odd one, and Greg was on the periphery of it, a catalyst but not part of it.

He had wished he was closer, many times. They were all damaged in some way, and they understood, they didn't judge, they never commented, well, apart from to put Greg straight when he tried to ignjore the truth of a situation, but Sherlock always seemed to figure he was doing the right thing. He never commented maliciously, if you discounted his comments toward his brother. He had never been anything but truthful toward Greg, and even when he wasn't, it was by ommission rather than a direct lie.

Joan had always been decent, honest and caring, wrapped in a compact sturdy frame that was stronger than it looked but still very feminine, and more determined and stubborn than Greg would have imagined. She weathered life, she was a survivor, like him. Stubborn enough to send life packing if it got in the way. To see her on the edge of that, on the brink of not surviving, sent an unwelcome flash of fear through him.

Greg's mind served him up a conclusion then, one he was determined to see through. He had lost his wife, then Sherlock and almost his career. There was no way in Hell he was going to lose Joan too. If she wanted friendship, she would have it. If she wanted more, well, she could have that too.

"So, what kind of music floats your boat then?" Greg asked, as casually as he could manage.

The past five weeks had brought many odd situations and feelings into Joan's life; this was one of those odd situations. Her stomach constantly felt like it was in knots now, out of nervousness Joan supposed. But, she knew she really shouldn't feel nervous around Greg. It was just Greg. Sherlock's boss in a way, the one who always set Sherlock on track when Joan couldn't, the one who gave them the cases, the one who believe in both of them from a distance. Joan admired that about him, the being there from a distance but still caring, it showed dedication and respect.

The pasta was breaking down and boiling into actually soft noddles and Joan set about heating up the sauce. She was lost in her own thoughts until Greg snapped her out of it, "Hmm? Oh, music." She paused, thinking of her favorite bands, "Well, I happen to like 1960's to 1980's a lot, my guilty pleasure is 90's pop and I absolutely adore the Beatles, George is my favorite but John's a close second"She turned around to look at him, "How bout you?"

"Loved 80s punk..." Greg tried not to look embarrassed. "Still got a soft spot for it even now. I was the original rebel." He laughed. "Never went as far as a safety pin through my nose but..." He fingered the shell of his ear in remembrance. "I had five studs decorating my ear though. There were loads of crap bands out there, little groups that played in the pubs and clubs. There was always someone to go listen to screaming about anarchy and the police state and sticking two fingers up at the State. It was wicked, really amazing, gritty and alive and visceral..." He stopped, aware he was making her stare. "Yeah, well, we all grow up eventually. I do also like Chopin and Gershwin and Copland if it helps..."

"really? Didn't peg you for a punk." Joan grinned a Greg described his p punk lifestyle. " I like classical music too." She smiled. ( sorry it's short, in Class)

"really? Didn't peg you for a punk." Joan grinned a Greg described his p punk lifestyle. " I like classical music too." She smiled. ( sorry it's short, in Class)

(don't apologise. You're studying. That takes priority. I'ts my day off work this week, it changes every week. I work in a shop, so sue me. Which is why I get to post when I want to today.)

"There's a lot you don't know about me, my girl," Greg replied with a grin. "I left all that behind years ago. You don't get away with living like that when you're in the Police unless you're in the drugs squad." He chuckled. "So how about we go to a concert sometime?"

Joan gave Lestrade a wiggle of her eyebrows, "Oh, a man of mystery." She chuckled, moving a little closer to have her fingers run along his ear, "can't imagine you having a bunch of holes in your ear though Mr. rebel." She chuckled lightly before realizing how close she was, "Yeah, a concert would be awesome."

[ I'm done with classes so I'll be around from now on! ]

Greg chuckled, amazed that she allowed herself to get so close, but tried to keep it light. "Well, a man has to have some secrets," he replied, then shied away. "That tickles!" He rubbed his ear. "I let them all close up ages ago. I can't see me sporting studs as a DI, can you?"