Fic: Life in the Ruins (7/9)

[arwen_kenobi]

art by evian_fork

Life In The Ruins
A BBC Sherlock fanfic by arwen_kenobi
Chapter 7 of 9
Master Post can be found here



March comes in like a lamb this year. Bright sunny skies and a temperature so mild that Lestrade is sweltering in his coat on his latest crime scene. Burglary - it's easy enough to solve even if John was not here to help him but his book is out tomorrow and Lestrade doesn't want to leave him to the wolves. Mycroft has apparently been handling precisely which media outlets are allowed to interview John and is doing whatever he can to keep everyone else off his back but Lestrade would rather have him here. The personal time on John's end has been booked and Lestrade is doing his best to keep an open schedule. John does his best to keep busy nowadays so this is quite the change of pace for him.

Between the New Year's Eve Rooftop Visitation and mid last week John has run so fast and worked so hard that it is a wonder that he hasn't collapsed from exhaustion. He tries his best to stay busy between writing, working, helping at any crime scene that Lestrade summons him to, and his newly developed gym habit. Louise goes to the same gym and sometimes sees him. She says he's a fantastic motivational tool.

After New Year's John had managed to avoid going to the roof again. Lestrade never drew attention to it. He imagined if asked why John would say that he didn't want to worry anyone when really he was probably trying his best to not scare himself. Lestrade kept up his monthly visitations to Sherlock's grave but had a distinct feeling, judging by some of the tokens on the grave, that John was visiting far more often than he ever had before. On the occasions that his visitations have coincided with John's he's caught him reading excerpts to the head stone or even just sitting there reading a book or taking more notes.

Lestrade knows what he is bound to find in one of those notebooks that John keeps if he looks but decides it is better if he doesn’t. Lestrade should be telling him to stop but he already has in his own way. Part of him is demanding that he beat the idea out of John’s head but the rest of him tells him it’s all up to John and that it's been up to John since the very beginning.

John is bored right now and a bored John is almost as dangerous as a bored Sherlock. He decides to just stop dragging this out more than he has to and orders out the cavalry to get the small time game that were responsible. "I want them in front of my desk by nightfall." He has no doubt that that will be precisely the case. This really is shockingly open and shut. Sherlock would have never come down for this. Actually, Lestrade never ever would have even considered calling him in for this one. It wouldn't be worth the abuse.

John appears next to him. "Bored now." It's just a simple phrase but Lestrade hears it as a warning. John keeps busy for a very good reason and any hiccoughs now when he's been doing so well can only be a bad thing. He apologizes for the inconvenience as much as he can without it being too over the top.

"Can't control what I get in on any given day," he shrugs. "I was hoping for a little bit more to develop here but..." he throws up his hands. John snickers.

"Silly of me to demand a homicide every other the day. I'm getting far too specific nowadays." John snickers and Lestrade thinks that if he smiles much harder he's going to explode. He hasn't heard a remark like that from John in a good long while. He's so pleased and chuffed and all that that he doesn't even think about what he's agreeing to when John asks him to come to the gym with him. He's at home and getting his stuff when it hits him. He texts Louise to ask her exactly how much of a mistake he's made.

Prepare to have your arse handed to you. Just remember you have a life you enjoy while John has a life he tolerates. You have to get that anger out somehow.

If it takes John six months to move through each stage of grief it would take two and a half years before anything sort of normal or acceptable would ever be applied to what John thinks of his life. Lestrade shoves a pair of trainers into a duffle bag with more force than necessary. He is the last remaining friend of John's that he acknowledges. If John has decided that he wants to fight for something approaching normal, if he has decided that fading quietly into the night is not an option for him after all, then Lestrade will do whatever he has to.

Louise, he discovers, was not exaggerating in her report. John spends less than five minutes orientating Lestrade to the gym and then he throws himself into it. He leaves Lestrade in his dust very early on but he doesn't concern himself too much with that. He leisurely works his way through the machines, weights, and then transfers himself to Louise's favourite - the stationary bike - to watch John some more.

It really is deucedly impressive with John's capabilities even considering that he's a military man. Anyone, even Sherlock on speed, would have dropped by now. When Lestrade decides to vacate the premises for the pool, he'd come across a pair of swim trunks in his bag that he really hoped still fit, it takes John about fifteen minutes to join him. "Though you didn't do pools?" he asks as he leisurely kicks to the side.

John slips in, hisses at the cold, and plops a kickboard in front of him. "I didn't," he agrees. The first meeting of Moriarty had been lucky for all involved but one case following involving a public pool had John so antsy that Sherlock had actually dragged him off the scene to pull him back to reality. Then he'd informed Lestrade that they were leaving with the comment that he wasn't going to set foot near one again until further notice. "We don't work around pools." That had been that.

The slow lane is surprisingly quiet, or at least Lestrade finds it so. He hasn't set foot in a pool since the girls were smaller. He and John are able to swim side by side without any retribution from the other swimmers in the lane or the lifeguards. It's comfortable just swimming side by side, if you can call just kicking swimming, with nothing to bother them. He doesn't talk until John starts to apologize for leaving him in his wake. "It's alright," Lestrade assures him. "You've got far more stress to burn out of your system than I do."

John huffs. "Thanks for reminding me. It's going to be a circus tomorrow."

"Sounds like Mycroft has you covered though."

"That he does," John sighs. "I'm very likely going to be very grateful for that tomorrow."

"You say that like it annoys you."

"It does. Very much so."

Lestrade sighs. He pauses at the deep end wall. "Maybe it's time to forgive Mycroft? He did lose his brother after all."

John glares at him. "Okay," Lestrade allows. "Too soon for that." John doesn't say anything to that, not even a generalizing statement about how he's never going to forgive Mycroft. Improvement is being shown on all accounts it seems. It's almost disconcerting. Lestrade keeps the conversation about the book rolling. John's got interviews more or less all day tomorrow, they will be the only ones he will give on the subject at all and he has refused to take the book on tour. His publisher must be crying at all the money they're going to lose from the loss of a tour but the sensation will probably prompt sales enough to compensate. Perhaps more. John is honestly hoping to make as little money from his as possible.

"I don't know what to do with anything I do get. I don't plan on keeping it."

"You could always give it to Mrs. Holmes." Lestrade had relayed the message from Christmas to John and he's supposed to be seeing the Holmes matriarch on the weekend.

"I don't think she'll take it."

"Then donate it to charity like I said."

John shrugs. He hops out of the pool and tells Lestrade that he's getting cold. He follows, they change, and just before they go their separate ways - John to who knows where and Lestrade back to the Yard - John hands him a parcel. "I didn't get all that many advance copies but there's one for you. I can probably get some more for the girls if they're interested."

Lestrade thanks him. John promises to call him as soon as he's off promotion detail tomorrow. Lestrade wishes him luck as he walks away.

Later that night Lestrade flips to the last story in the book. He's read the other cases from the drafts that John had given them months before and he has never asked John about how The Reichenbach Fall was going and John had never asked him for any input on it. The title stares at him like the etching on a tombstone but Lestrade steels himself and sets about the reading of it.

He knows most of this story. Part of it was from being there and the other parts resulted from the investigation after the fact and what little John would speak of it. Most of what tugs at his heart and what is new to him is the little moments between John and Sherlock before the end. Sherlock's bafflement that John was upset by what people thought of him, Sherlock's barely restrained fear that John believed the lies as well (Lestrade could see that lurking behind the can't you see what's going on? as well as he would have heard it). John, he thinks, hadn't got that at the time but had responded correctly in spite of it.

He chuckles at John punching Gregson, he smiles fondly at the scene of John and Sherlock running handcuffed together and then leaping in front of a bus. He would have paid money to see Kitty Riley's face when she'd walked into her flat to find the pair of them sitting there and he really wishes he'd seen the confrontation with Moriarty for many other reasons.

He knows that John's last words to Sherlock face to face were not friendly ones. He'd called him a machine and had stormed off. That had been planned, naturally, and Lestrade wonders how he could not have seen that. Hindsight is twenty/twenty though; Lestrade probably would have done the same thing if he'd been in John's shoes. What finally breaks Lestrade is the final bit, the ending to the book as well as the story:

"By the time I returned to the hospital, he was on the roof. Sherlock standing on the edge. He called me. Tried to convince ,e that he was a fake. That everything they said about him was true. I wouldn't believe it. I still won't. He was being forced to say it. Had to say it.

Then he jumped.

I owe him so much. I needed him. I still do.

But he's gone.

He told me once that I shouldn't make people into heroes. He said that heroes didn't exist and even if they did he wouldn't be one of them.

Which goes to show. He wasn't always right about everything.

There's so much more there. So much that has been glossed over and so much that is beyond words and it kills Lestrade that most of the morons that will pick this up and read it won't see it. They'll see a bit of overwrought writing and not understand exactly how hard John had to pull and how deep he had to go to get that onto paper. He can't go more detailed than he just did and even this feels too personal.

If anyone even mentions this in an interview Lestrade is going to kill them. Damn the law and damn security and damn Mycroft. If anyone even mentions this story, this conclusion, on camera he is going to end them. The rational part of him reminds him that he probably won't need to worry about that - Mycroft probably has approved all the questions beforehand and will deliver his own brand of swift justice should anyone stray.

John may not be able to thank Mycroft, forgive him, or feel comfortable with being grateful to him but Lestrade is alright with the first and the last. Forgiveness on his end is not what's needed or what's required. The only people who can forgive Mycroft are John and Sherlock and Lestrade thinks that he will wait a long time to hear those words. Mycroft is a patient man though.

Lestrade sets the book on the nightstand. It's a black cover with a simple outline of two figures standing in an open doorway. "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" is emblazoned above the scene with John's name in very small writing on the bottom. As always, John is giving himself little credit. Or else someone else is.

He shuts off the light and tries to sleep. It takes some doing but he accomplishes it. His dreams are filled with Sherlock and John running and dying and being pulled apart and put back together. He waits and begs to wake up - he knows he's dreaming and he needs it all to just stop - but his pleas go unheeded.




If he thinks about it long and hard he knows that there was buzz before the actual release date. He remembers articles in the paper, a few little snippets on the news, but nothing as astronomical as when the book is actually out in the open. On the 6th of March it's like an atom bomb hits London. The book is everywhere. It's in shop windows, people's hands, people's bags, everywhere. It's always the book too. Little mention of John or Sherlock, or photographs of either, but just "The Book." Something tells Lestrade that this was all on purpose but whether it's by John's or Mycroft's design he remains unsure.

He doesn't watch all the interviews but the one that he does see on after work looks as awkward as anything but goes off without a hitch. The only thing that makes alarms go off in Lestrade's head is something John says in response to what he plans to do now that the book is out. The response is matter of fact and almost sounds like an expert's testimony at a trial.

"I've cleared his name and now I've set out the facts of what he did for a living. The truth is out there for all who want to find it and now it's time I went back to my old life."

That has multiple meanings (the life before the book? the life before Sherlock? ) and none of which inspire confidence. Any hope of confidence being inspired is erased with an immediate call from Mycroft asking if John has said anything to him. Of course he hasn't and he finds himself watching John very closely over the next few weeks. Mycroft and him talk more and more often during this time and it feels just like the old days. Both sets of them.

John acts very much the same, still busy as anything but mostly in work now. He still comes to crime scenes if he can but Louise reports that she hasn't seen him at the gym in some time. "He could be going at night though," she offers as a bit of hope. Louise doesn't really like working out at night - especially on her own. Lestrade has his girls trained well on that front.

He thinks back to that first conversation on the roof. John is showing no signs of officially calling it a day but Lestrade has to believe him when he'd said that he wouldn't never do anything where Mrs. Hudson would find him. He also has to believe that John doesn't want to worry anyone needlessly. Well, he's got two people for certain worried about him and Lestrade is going to add a third whether or not Mycroft agrees with him or not. Mrs. Hudson deserves to armed with the truth and prepared for anything.

It's not a pleasant conversation by any stretch. There's a lot of tutting and "oh dears" and one very, very quiet "oh, my boys" that Lestrade pretends not to hear. "You can't let on," he warns her. "Just keep an eye out."

"I've always got an eye out, love." The sigh that carries from Baker Street to Lestrade's ear sounds every single second of its seventy six years. "Nothing you're saying is any news to me."

Lestrade's sigh sounds just as old to his own ears. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson."

"Nothing for it. Try not to let it drag you down too."

Lestrade promises that he'll do his best.

Between the 6 March release date and one year anniversary of Sherlock's jump the "I Believe in Sherlock Holmes" movement escalates. Dimmock tells him that there are more distinct pieces of art and slogans than there were even at the start a year ago. Even Banksy has gotten involved now. It drives the higher ups to distraction. Lestrade cheerfully informs Gregson that vandalism is not his division and he gets a high five from Dimmock later for it. “It’s true, thought. That’s Landers’ division. Not like you know anything about it anyway.”

Lestrade keeps mum on that front. He thinks he has done a very good job ignoring the paint splashed clothing in the house and the aerosol smell in Karen's room. Also a touch in Tess's. Louise seems above it all until her graduation ceremony from IOE and Lestrade observes a bit of purple paint underneath her bare nails. He says nothing. Louise will be starting as an NQT in the autumn and he'd rather not jeopardize that. Not that Karen and Tess will be in any less trouble - Tess will be doing a Master's year back in Belfast and Karen will be starting at the University of Cardiff. They are careful though, they do have a father who is a copper and a friend/odd uncle figure in the late Sherlock Holmes after all.

John, who is again the obvious suspect in the resurgence, tells Lestrade he is doing nothing to encourage it and Lestrade believes him. He hadn't before so why would he start now. What he tells the media on the rare occasion someone manages to accost him on the street or heading into 221b is the same thing he had always said before. Tess texts him a new mashup video with updated footage and audio only of John asserting that he will always believe in his best friend.

Two days before the year anniversary "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" hits one million copies sold and Lestrade is invited over to 221b Baker Street for the first time since arriving to arrest Sherlock. He takes a stiff drink before he heads over. He's never wanted to impose on John and John has never offered an invitation into the flat. He's paid for dinners out and brought over food to Lestrade to keep things even but Baker Street has always been hands off to anyone except John. Even Mycroft stays well away. If John wants to keep the flat as a shrine that is John's business. Not that anything anyone would say to him would change his mind.

He actually almost refuses the invitation when it is made. A part of him feels wrong in coming over, that he hasn't earned the right to come back. He doesn't say any of this out loud but John has one of his possessed-by-Sherlock moments and tells him that he's more than welcome. Also that if he doesn't come he'll take it as a personal insult.

Lestrade is prepared for a shrine, is prepared for anything it seems but for the obvious: that the flat is mostly unchanged. It is certainly cleaner and free of any of Sherlock's equipment or experiments but there is a jar of fingers serving as a centre piece on the kitchen table, the Cluedo board still stabbed in the wall, and a much abused rubix cube is sitting perched on Sherlock's armchair. The skull observes the small party (just him, John, and Mrs. Hudson) and almost looks relieved to see them.

John is sitting in Sherlock's chair nervously holding a glass of champagne. Mrs. Hudson has pulled up a kitchen chair for herself and waves Lestrade to John's chair. John is crawling with the need to switch places with him but if anyone can sit in Sherlock's chair it's John. He supposes it would have been easier if they'd just moved over toward the sofa but it was a little awkward to bring that up now. The more they drink though the slightly more relaxed he gets. He signs their books with a smile that's earnest enough but the discomfort with the whole affair - book, day, death, everything - is being telegraphed loud and clear. Lestrade doesn't make an offer to switch seats. When, finally, they actually raise a glass and Mrs. Hudson gives a proper toast it's better meant for a funeral than a supposed celebration. If they weren't officially at a wake they certainly were now. The conversation turns to reminisces; of cases past, of cases refused, of the cases that John told, and the cases that John did not.

"Are you going to write another one?" Lestrade asks when they’ve moved from champagne something stronger and Mrs. Hudson has retired for the night.

“Doubt it,” John slurs. “The last case is the Fall, remember?”

“There’s more there though. You didn’t write them all.”

“Not sure that I can.” Lestrade knows he’s not referring to the time that would need to pass for some of those stories to be told even with names and dates and places changed. Or to the gag order placed on him and Sherlock both by either the Yard or the clients or any other obstacle of mere formality. John has written his last, one way or the other. Lestrade asks John what he means by that before he’s able to keep his tongue behind his teeth where it belongs but John has passed out. His fingers still stubbornly hold onto his half empty glass; if his fingers had slipped he’d have ruined the upholstery.

Lestrade takes that as a sign that John is not done with life yet. His opinion wavers when he finds the notebooks under Sherlock’s chair. He knows what's in them and knows that he shouldn't look but he does anyway. There are diagrams of the hospital. Thoughts and theories about how Sherlock could have swindled them all. Written in the margins are snatches of that final phone call, certain words and phrases underlined harshly or written in upper case. Another sentence rings through his head in Sir Michael Caine's voice: Am I watching closely?

Lestrade has to ask himself the same question. He puts them back, shakes his head and moves John to the couch. He sends himself home in a cab slightly drunk and very worried.

The next day, the 15th, he needs to call John in on a case. John is hungover but arrives when he says. They don’t discuss Sherlock Holmes or ‘The Adventures.' Lestrade texts him asking if he needs him with him today. John says he's fine. Lestrade doesn't answer the call from Mycroft - he knows where John has gone. He does check his phone when it beeps with a text message.

Are you following him? MH

No hesitation in his reply. No.

Do you think that's wise? MH

Perhaps not, but it's what needs to be done.

I have no surveillance. He's dismantled the cameras again. MH

Lestrade holds his breath and counts to five. John wouldn't jump, he'd want something certain. He also would choose someplace where no one would him. He won't do anything tonight.

Another night? MH. When Lestrade doesn't reply right away Mycroft sends another text saying he's posting surveillance from other buildings. Lestrade does not warn John. Instead he does what he has to do and wanders to Sherlock's grave. A few minutes later Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft join him. Karen, Tess, and Louise appear shortly after that. The headstone is littered with tribute from an influx of strangers. The three of them stand together until, finally, almost an hour later, John arrives.

It's a testament to a lot of things, Lestrade has to say, that the eight of them can be here so long without saying a word and meet here without any plans to do so. Here, as the sun sets on one year without Sherlock Holmes. Will each year be like this? Does he want each year to get easier? No answers to his questions. One by one the vigil shrinks - Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson first, the Lestrade family second. John makes no move to leave.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I'm where I need to be."

He clasps John's shoulder. He talks loudly to his daughters as John starts to speak.




According to Mycroft's email the next morning. John spends the night there. He did report to work this morning and he does seem to be in fair enough health. Tired and achy to be sure but alive and able to function in the A&E. Good thing too, there was an accident this morning and he's certain to be up to his elbows in that mess. Lestrade breathes a little easier and then goes about dealing with the priority item of the past few days. The Adair case is still anyone's guess but he can at least review what is known and documented before heading out to the flat again. He sips his morning coffee and gets down to it.

"Suicide. Carefully constructed, quite brilliant if I do say so myself. I can walk you through it if you'd like."

Every rational bone in his body tells him that he is hallucinating. This is a strange form for an epiphany to take but he'll take what he can get with this one. He hears the words again in his head and notes the weariness, caution, and slight touch of satisfaction there. The thought that John was right flashes through his mind before he looks up to find Sherlock Holmes living and breathing in his doorway.

He doesn't ask how he got by anyone, he's holding a mess of fake hair and a hat in one hand and some books in the other so there's the answer to that. He doesn't scream, start, swear or anything. He looks him up and down and asks him if he's seen John yet. Sherlock shakes his head.

Lestrade swears softly then. "Why the hell are you here then you daft, heartless pillock?"

Sherlock tries to speak but Lestrade silences him with another less than savory word. "You get out of here the same way you came in and go to John. Try not to kill him, or let him kill you, because I would like to get an explanation. In two hours we will agree this meeting never took place. Got it?"

Sherlock nods. He's in disguise and out in less than a second. It's only then that Lestrade shoves his head between his knees and takes deep breaths until he feels less like he's going to pass out.

"Well, fuck me..." he breathes to his empty office. Thank God, Sherlock had shut the door on his way out. One miracle was all they'd asked of him and he'd delivered. Of course he had. He's Sherlock bloody Holmes. Death is just a minor inconvenience rather than a permanent end in his world.

A sea of emotions and issues and questions start their assault but Lestrade forces his mind shut and locks it tight. He's not feeling anything or dealing with anything until Sherlock has talked to John. Then he at least as a context in which he can act or speak. If John forgives him on sight he's going to have to as well. If John shoots him in the face...well, he's going to have to help dispose of a body then.

He wonders if that grave is empty.

Author's Note: The excerpt from John's book post- Reichenbach is a direct quote from "Sherlock: The Casebook" by Guy Adams published by BBC books.

Chapter Eight