So I don't know about the rest of you...
But at work today I signed the fourth sympathy card in as many months. (Or less, actually.) The actress who portrayed Romana in the original Doctor Who died. I believe another famous actor died last night. The last year has been kind of depressing.
So I'm calling for some cheering up!
The Cheering Up MemeThat's right. Whether it's the grieving ( Read more... )
So I'm calling for some cheering up!
The Cheering Up MemeThat's right. Whether it's the grieving ( Read more... )
*****
It wasn’t a very big card, or a very intricate one. It was in all honesty a little bit silly, with a cartoon bee and ‘Bee My Valentine’ written above it. But it felt ridiculously heavy in his pocket. He’d brought it last week when Greg’s divorce had been finalised, which was awful timing, no one likes to get dumped the week before Valentine’s Day let alone divorced. Greg had looked so defeated, he’d pretty much avoided everyone as much as he could. For once Greg was as relieved as Sherlock for the strange and inexplicable murder that turned up a few days later.
John thought sad Greg was just wrong. Grumpy Greg or harassed Greg was fine, happy Greg was better. John didn’t realise how much he missed swapping fond but exasperated looks behind Sherlock’s back until Greg wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore (or anyone’s eyes). Even Sherlock was worried, although he didn’t show it, but he hadn’t insulted Greg’s intelligence even once during the case so far, even when Greg had missed the bicycle tracks completely.
John had been too busy feeling bad about the downturn to the corners of Greg’s mouth and not paying attention to the conversation between Sherlock and Greg, so it was a surprise when they both walked past him towards the door.
“Are you coming, John?” asked Sherlock with his eyebrow raised.
“Um, yeah,” replied John. “Just need to tie my shoelace.”
John knelt down, Sherlock’s eyes flicked to John’s very much tied shoelaces and then to the pocket with the card in. John felt himself blush but met Sherlock’s eye as the other man smirked at him and swept out after Greg. John quickly took the card out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. His own handwriting sprawled ‘Greg’ across the front of the envelope, but he’d got one of the receptionists at work to write ‘To Greg, love ?’ inside. She’d giggled when he’d asked her, leaving John feeling like he was back at school. He followed Sherlock quickly, before he had time to change his mind and take it back.
Of course John spent most of the evening chasing Sherlock over London looking for a blue bicycle with Dunlop tyres and a distinctive ‘nick’ that belonged to a dental hygienist with a ginger long haired cat. So he didn’t have much time to wonder if Greg got the card. Although when Sherlock texted him the next morning to come and arrest the hygienist’s brother Greg was smiling again. John didn’t much care if that was down to the card or not, it was just nice to see.
John and Sherlock had to give statements, which John hated. Although probably not as much as the poor bugger who had to take Sherlock’s statement. Greg found him while he was waiting for Sherlock to finish.
“John,” said Greg with a grin. “Thanks for the card.”
John glanced down at his feet to hide the second blush in as many days. “Oh, erm, you just seemed… sad, with the divorce. And I… hang on. How did you know it was me?” he asked looking up suddenly.
“Well,” said Greg taking a step closer. “I’m not ‘Sherlock Holmes’ or anything but I am a Detective. It was your handwriting on the card, and,” he winked at John. “There’s a security camera in my office.”
John sighed. “Of course there is. I just thought you could use some cheering up.”
Greg ducked his head to very quickly and chastely kiss John on the lips, it was over almost as quickly as it happened and now Greg was flushed too. “Thanks, John,” he said with a real smile that made John feel that the whole exercise had been more than worth it.
Greg turned to leave and John blurted out. “Want to come to the pub later, when you’re done here?”
Greg turned back and beamed. “Sure. It’s a date.”
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