#greg Lestrade imagine

[specialagentlokitty]

Lestrade x reader - a little confidence

Walking up the stairs, you kicked the door to the flat open and everybody inside turned to look at you as you leant against the doorway, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Took your time getting here.”

You said nothing and you stepped aside so Mrs Hudson could come in.

“(Y/N) how many times do I have to tell you, helmet off inside.” She scolded.

“I’ll be quick, what you want?” You asked.

“You got the text.”

You grumbled pulled one of your gloves off, reaching into your pocket your tossed the packet of cigarettes at Sherlock.

“Don’t give him them!” John scolded.

“Means he stops pestering me.” You shrugged.

You pulled your glove back on and looked around the room, walking over to Mycroft you leant forward and flicked his forehead making him roll his eyes.

Then you walked over and did the same thing to Sherlock.

“Who’s this stiff?” You asked John.

“Greg Lestrade, works for Scotland Yard.”

You nodded your head a little bit and looked him up and down from under the visor of your helmet and turned back to Sherlock.

“Stop texting me.”

“Stop ignoring me.”

You stuck your middle finger up at him and you made your way back to the door.

“Later!”

You jogged back down the stairs and they heard you revving your bike outside before you sped away.

“Who the hell was that?” Lestrade asked.

“That would be their sister, Sherlocks twin in fact.” Mrs Hudson smiled.

“Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know.” Mycroft said.

The moment you left the flat you could feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, letting you know Sherlock was demanding you do something else.

So you chose to ignore it, and you went back to what you were doing.

For the next week you carried on ignoring your brother up until the point he came by your flat just as you were about to leave.

“What Sherlock?” You snapped.

“You know what this is.”

He held out a phone and you took it, turning around on your motorbike, you resting your back against the handles and a foot on the seat.

“Yeah I know what this is why.”

“I know you know, I want you to take me there.”

You handed the photo back to your twin, and you sighed a little bit.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re heading there now, and we can’t get in without you. And whatever this is, it’s linked to our case and we can only find it there.”

“Sherlock is trying to nicely ask if you would please take us to the scrapyard you go to so we can have a look for ourselves.”

You looked at John and you shrugged a little bit, picking your helmet off the floor.

“Yeah okay. But you two owe me one, and I’ll be cashing it in at some point. Plus you can’t get in Sherlock but John can, people just don’t like you.”

You gestured for Sherlock to get on your friends bike and for John to get on yours and you gave him the spare helmet sitting nearby.

Heading to the scrapyard, you noticed Lestrade was waiting for you three, and you gestured for him to follow you around the corner where you stopped your bike.

You gestured to the large wall of junk.

“Have fun, don’t talk to anyone and don’t snoop.” You said.

“Wait, wait, you can’t just leave us here.” John protested.

“Why not?” You asked.

“John you’re looking for empathy in the wrong person. She has a better understanding of human emotions, but anything other than anger and you’re not going to get far.” Sherlock said.

“I swear to god I will break your nose again Sherlock.”

He shrugged a little and went quiet as he inspected the wall with John and Lestrade awkwardly looked around the scrapyard.

You heard some bikes coming closer, and you reached out, grabbing his jacket you pulled him back without looking up from your phone and they went speeding past.

“Blood hell!” He yelled.

You let him go.

“Don’t go standing in the middle of the track then.”

“Is this even legal?” He asked.

“Private land, so yeah.”

“Who owns then?”

You pulled something up on your phone and handed it over to him.

“I do.”

Lestrade inspected the documents and he handed the phone back to you.

“You still have to abide by traffic laws.”

“Not on land owned by me I don’t.”

You went back to scrolling through your phone and Lestrade crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at you.

Clad in jeans, boots, leather jacket, gloves and helmet.

There was absolutely no way he could pick a single identifying point about you, you just hid yourself away from the world behind your helmet.

“Who’s got access to the yard?” Sherlock asked.

“Bunch of people, go to the office at the front if you want anything I’m not your receptionist.”

With that you got on your bike and sped away, and that was the last they saw if you for the day.

Though Lestrade did start seeing more off you either at the flat or out and about.

And today was no different, you were sitting by a curb and he happened to be walking past so he stopped and looked at her.

“Hello (Y/N).” He smiled.

You put your phone away and looked at him, still wearing your helmet.

“Lestrade.” You greeted.

“I haven’t seen you around the flat for a while, did you and Sherlock fall out or?”

“I’m just ignoring him to be honest.” You shrugged.

Lestrade laughed a little and stepped back as you got off your bike and took they keys out and stuffed them into your pocket.

“Why you out this way?” You asked.

He held up a paper bag.

“Best coffee in the area. What about you? Thought you lived at the scrapyard.”

You hummed a little and shook your head.

“I don’t, but I’m only here cause damn bike broke down, waiting for someone to bring some stuff to fix it.”

“Well I can wait with you if you’d like, this isn’t really a great place to be broken down in.”

“Don’t you have places to be?”

He shook his head.

“Day odd actually, so I don’t.”

You shrugged a little and gestured to the coffee shop he just came out off and you both walked inside and you ordered a drink then sat down.

Lestrade sat down opposite you, and you pulled your gloves off, setting them aside then you pulled you helmet off and set that aside too.

Glancing at your bike, you picked up a menu and read through debating on something to eat.

“Keep staring, maybe it’ll make it less creepy.” You said.

He quickly looked away.

“Sorry..”

You smirked a little bit and set the menu down, leaning back as you folded your arms over your chest.

“Expect me to look like some monster?” You asked.

“N..no..” he mumbled.

You smirked a little more.

“Are you embarrassed detective?”

“No…”

He looked at you but quickly looked away once more.

You thanked the man that brought your coffee over, and you glanced at you bike to check on it.

“So, Lestrade, if it’s your day off, why come all this way for coffee?”

“I was avoiding your brother too and he knows where I live.”

“First mistake, never let Sherlock Holmes know where you live.”

“He knows where you live.”

“He knows where I keep bike and my tools and all, not where I live, Mycroft keeps that hidden for me.”

Lestrade looked at you.

“So you have two flats?

“Yup, pretty handy actually.”

“And you just happen to have two flats?”

“Mycroft went into government work, Sherlock solves cases to pass time, I own a series of houses and business across the city.”

“How did you manage that?”

“We come from a wealthy family and I wanted to expand my money and spend life actually having fun unlike my stuck up brothers.”

Lestrade smiled and chucked a little bit, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t it keep you busy?”

“Nah, just hire a few people to handle everything, I only come in when there’s real big issues.”

Lestrade nodded again.

“Didn’t think you would be a landlord and business person.”

“You think I got my money from crime?”

“No.”

You hummed a little, nodding your head as you sipped at your coffee.

“Go on, tell me what you found when you searched my name in your system.”

“How did you..?”

“Mycroft.”

“Of course. I didn’t find much, a few DUIs, and something about vandalism?”

“Oh yeah I smashed up one of my bars because I wanted to redo it. The person that rents it didn’t like and it tried to have me done for forgetting I own the place.”

Lestrade nodded his head a little and you leant back in your seat again.

You and Lestrade continued to talk until your friends arrived and you left.

And you began to see him more often, usually by accident, but sometimes he would come just to talk to you.

And since you enjoyed making him embarrassed, you had no issue with this.

It had become a game to you at this point, see how embarrassed you could make Lestrade before the pair of you parted ways.

It was like clockwork for you now, but you had been busy for a few weeks now and hadn’t seen him.

You were working on your bike and you were sitting on the floor when you heard someone approaching.

“Thought you were avoiding me.”

You looked up and pushed yourself from the ground, wiping your hands on your jeans.

“I’ve been busy, what’s up?”

Lestrade sighed a little bit and you gestured for him to sit on the step while you leant against the wall next to him.

“Divorce finally went through a few weeks ago.”

You nodded your head.

“At least you can put yourself out there again you know? Find someone better and all that.”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

“You don’t have to, completely your choice what you do, but the way I see it is make the most of this.”

Lestrade looked at you before looking away.

“Look Greg, at the end of the day you can sit and mope around about it, or you can start meeting people, getting a feel for things. No one says you got to date them, but you’ve basically been single for like a year now, just get back into the swing of things. Get a feel for what kinda person you’d date and crap like that.”

Lestrade nodded a little.

“I understand what you’re saying, I guess… I wouldn’t know where to start.”

You grinned a little and clasped your hand on his shoulder.

“Shove some drinks down you and you’ll be right as rain.”

He laughed and shook his head as he looked up at you.

“That’s your solution for everything.”

“I have issues.”

He smiled a little bit and you looked at him.

“What is it?”

“What if there is a women I’d like to be involved with but not sure how she would take the news?”

You hummed a little and took a small breath.

“Yeah that ain’t my thing, ask him.”

You whistled to get the attention of the biker that just pulled up and you waved him over.

“Ry is this Greg, he needs relationship advice and I suck at that so like help him.”

With that you walked away back to your bike, to carry on fixing it.

When you were done, you put everything back in the tool box and you poured some water some the bottle and wiped them on your shirt to clean them.

Pushing your bike next to the other, you walked back over and grabbed your tool box, setting it by the stairs and both men went quiet and looked at you.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’ll take this up I need to grab something anyway.” Ry said.

You shrugged and tossed him the flat key and you leant against the wall as you took your phone out your pocket.

You stood there quietly for a few minutes and Lestrade stood up, so you put your phone in your pocket and looked at him.

“Leaving?”

“Something else actually.”

You looked at him, and he just looked away with a small huff.

Smirking a little, you grabbed him by his tie and pulled him down to be eye level with you.

“W..what are you doing..?”

“What you’re apparently to chicken shit to do.”

You leant forward and connected your lips with his before you pulled away and left him go, putting your hand on his chest to pushing him back a step.

“Seriously Greg, you need to just be confident for once.”

“I.. how..?”

“Ry texted me when he went upstairs.”

Lestrade nodded a little and he took a step back over, taking your face between his hands he kissed you again.

Then he pulled away.

“Is that confident enough?”

“Try again.” You smirked.

He smiled a little and leant down again to kiss you, and you placed your hand on the back of his head to hold him there before a little longer before you let him move away.

“So… do you want to get something to eat..?” He asked nervously.

“And there goes all that confidence.”

He huffed a little and looked away and you smirked at him.

“Go on, lead the way.”

He grinned and began to walk and you picking up your jacket, tossing it on as you walked along side of him with a little smirk on your face

[epifaniax07]

[multific]

Back Home

Greg Lestrade x Reader

Warnings: kidnapping, human trafficking.

"Damn it, Sherlock!" Lestrade banged on the table, knocking over an already empty mug. 

"I told you Inspector, once I'll have any information about the woman, I'll let you know, I'm working on another case which is much more important than some woman fr-" Sherlock stopped as he noticed the fire in Lestrade's eyes. He missed something. Of course, Sherlock would miss something, Lestrade was going on pure emotion, while Sherlock was not.

"What is the name of the woman Sherlock? The woman you deem to be so unimportant, what is her name?" Greg managed to choke out, but his anger only grew. 

Sherlock still didn't know what he missed.

"I can't recall." he answered truthfully, but he only gained a bang on the table as Lestrade turned his back to the man, holding his head in his hands.

"Her name is Y/N Lestrade, Sherlock."

"Your sister?"

"My WIFE." yelled Greg as he turned back to look at the detective. "My wife, Mr Holmes, has been gone for over three days, you know how that feels? And the worst is that I have to go home to my two year old son every day and not have her there." Sherlock now saw what he missed. He missed out on who the client really was. He thought this was the case of a cheating wife, but no, now he saw it all. And even he wasn't sure why, but now, the case on his walls wasn't so interesting. "So, I will ask one more time, where is my wife, Mr Holmes?"

"Have you considered... that she might be cheating?" Sherlock knew he was now on very very thin ice, he could see Greg clench his hands, ready to punch. "No, she is not cheating, just wanted to be sure." because Sherlock is an asshole, no other reason.

---

You knew you shouldn't have opened the door. You were soo dumb. Why did you have to be always so nice to others? Why did you have to be so naive? 

They could have hurt your son. But thankfully, they just took you. You tried to fight, but they were stronger, and they outnumbered you.

"You will be sold for a good price." is what you heard before you were hit in the head and knocked out.

Turned out, there was this group, that kidnapped women from their homes in order to sell them on the black market.

There were about five other women with you in that dodgy basement. Chained to the wall.

However, at that point, you didn't know who to trust. You recalled a case your husband had that he told you about when the men sent in one of their own to stay with the victims, pretending to be one. And you couldn't help but think one of them could be the same.

So, you stayed quiet and hoped Greg and his detective friend would be able to get to you quickly.

---

That evening Greg arrived home only to find the nanny and Tom in the living room. She left soon after Greg arrived, leaving little Thomas with his dad.

"I'll find her I swear." he told his son as he carried him to bed. "I love you so much and Mommy loves you too." Greg said as he kissed his son's forehead and put him to sleep. That evening, he gave his son extra kisses.

---

"To be sold?" Lestrade looked at Sherlock in disbelief as they made their way to a warehouse. 

"Yes, they are selling women as slaves, all types of women so that the police would be thrown off, now, while I'm not too sure who they sell them to, I'm sure they will have a list of clients somewhere, they can't be tipped off or they will destroy it." explained Sherlock and Greg nodded.

He was finally getting you back.

---

You were quiet as a mouse, some men even joked how you must be a mute and how it will cost them money as your value would decrease. 

But you didn't care.

All you cared about was Greg and you son, Tom. 

You needed to find your way back to them, but you still hoped Greg would be able to find you first. 

You couldn't possibly come up with a plan to escape. Every corner there was another man, with a gun.

But this really began to take a toll on your mental health. You were exhausted and you really didn't want to wait until any 'buyers' are interested in you.

Then you heard gunshots, people yelling and soon a team of policemen barged into the warehouse.

Everything happened so fast, soon a young officer asked you about your side of the story.

"Where's my wife? Y/N!" you heard Greg call out and you just ignored the young deputy and rushed to your husband.

With tears in your eyes, you hugged him close to your body. You could barely breathe, you cried so much that day.

But finally you were back home.

Holding Thomas again, you could tell he very much missed you. His hold on you never loosened as he made you promise to never leave him. And you intended to keep that promise.

Greg showed you the new safety features he installed into your home, so you could feel safe finally.

You were in the kitchen making tea for yourself when Greg joined you, moving his arms around you, holding you close.

"I missed you so much Darling. I'm so sorry, this happened."

"It wasn't your fault and I'm ready to put this behind myself. Maybe later, I will talk about it, but for now, I just want to get back to normal, with you and with Tommy."

"Of course." he kissed your neck, completely understanding, not wanting to push you. He got everyone locked up. He got the list and everyone was safe now. 

His heart was finally at ease as he held you close while you prepared the tea, not letting you go even for a second. You loved to feel his warmth around you, after the many cold nights in that basement, you were finally home. Greg kept on kissing your skin, his affections and regrets clear from his actions.

"I will never let anyone take you away from me ever again. If I have to burn London down to make sure no one hurts you, then so be it."

You smiled, knowing he was exaggerating but still loving everything he said.

"I love you Greg."

"And I love you, Sweetheart."

He turned you around and trapped you in between himself and the stove, pulling you in for a heated, long kiss. 

Oh yes, you were definitely home.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

                DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[mindful-of-ideas]

“I can’t believe I let you drag me into this!” you said.

“Drag you into this? It’s Christmas dinner,” Greg answered.

“Yeah, Christmas dinner is like important very important for some people.”

“Oh, not them, don’t worry about that.”

“And what if they don’t like what I got them!”

“You got them presents! Y/N, you shouldn’t have, you barely know them.”

“Sherlock just saved my life, getting him a present is the least I can do,” you replied, “And I got one for you and Molly, of course, and for Ms. Hudson, and one for Mycroft.”

“You… how did you end up getting one for Mycroft?”

“I don’t know, you talked so much about him and I just came across something that felt right and…”

“And you bought it, right. You know you didn’t need to do all that? They’ll be happy just to know you came.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Can we just change the subject please, now I’m just even more stressed.”

Greg wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you turned onto Baker Street. He grabbed the bag you were carrying, now understanding it was filled with presents. He pull you as close as he could.

Greg and you had been friends since forever. You grew up in the same small town, on the same street, and nothing could stop you from becoming friends even if you were a few years younger than him. It all started that summer when you crashed your bike right in front of his house as he was going out. You were 5 and 8 years old. As soon as he saw you on the ground, he came running to help and took you inside so that his mom could look at your wounds. You then spent the whole summer playing together. When school started, he stood up for you anytime you were getting bullied. The fact that, even if you had skipped a year, you were still too advanced for your class didn’t help with the bullying… and didn’t help with making friends. But it didn’t matter to Greg. He stuck by your side and so did you.

You briefly had to part ways when you went to university, him wanting to become a police inspector and you leaning more towards history. But you never spent too long apart and ultimately you had decided to continue your studies in history of crime. Which is how you met Sherlock, or more how he ended up saving.

See, sometimes, even the brightest private detective out there needs a little help. Especially with something as specific as a group of criminals who are copying the actions of past gangs and cults. So Greg called you thinking your expertise could help and hopefully you could work along with Sherlock to catch the criminals as soon as possible. And you did help in the end because by helping Sherlock, the criminals freaked out and captured you, a misstep which lead Sherlock to catch them. And save you. That’s why you were now standing in front of 221B Baker Street.

“You’ll be great,” Greg said, opening the door.

A flyer left in it said to just come up, so just like that, we set foot in the infamous 221B Baker Street. As soon as you got in the flat, you noticed how cozy it was. You had never been here, always meeting Sherlock with Lestrade at Scotland Yard. But there was something about this cluttered open space that made you feel right at home. You went around, saying hi to everyone, perhaps spending a little more time with people you already know. It was way easier to chat with Molly than with John if you were being honest. But you got trapped talking to the both of them as they were the only ones taking care of dinner.

“How about you let Greg and me finish this?” you asked, looking at Molly.

“Are you sure?” said John, “We don’t mind taking care of it, at least I don’t. Molly?”

“Oh, no of course I don’t mind.”

But you knew better. You once ate dinner at Molly’s flat and well, it would be more accurate to say you tried to eat what you thought was dinner at Molly’s flat.

“I really don’t mind, I actually like cooking,” you added.

“I could use a short break,” said Molly, thanking you with her eyes.

“Alright then!” said John, starting to explain what they had started.

And it was a disaster. But luckily for everyone, you were half decent in the kitchen and you had good hopes of turning this dinner around.

“Avoiding me?” Greg asked coming up behind you.

“You? Never, it’s just a lot of new people all at once.”

“I’m teasing you, it’s okay. So? What do I do?” he said clapping his hands.

If you were a decent cook, Greg was an excellent one. But he would never admit that in front of anyone, especially not Sherlock.

“You could take charge,” you said.

“You got this, I’m sure.”

“I could ask someone else for help too then. Mycroft maybe?”

“No, shut… alright we do this together.”

It was your turn to tease Greg. You didn’t know exactly what was going on between him and Mycroft, or even if there was a ‘between’ to talk about, but there was something. You couldn’t say for sure it was love since the last time Greg had a girlfriend, or any significant other, was when he was at uni, aka the only time you were apart. Still, you could tell something was going on, and the idea of calling Mycroft over just to mess with Greg was tempting, and you could always argue that you were trying to make more friends. But you didn’t even need to do anything.

“Trying to hide from the party?” Mycroft asked, sitting at the table behind you.

“No,” you said, “just trying to help out.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, don’t worry… Y/N, right?”

“Yes,” you said, going back to your work.

“Not much of a talker,” he said, now seemingly talking to Greg.

You looked down. You didn’t know Mycroft well enough to tell if he was being snarky or just didn’t have any filter. I mean, you knew Mycroft, but from Greg’s perspective, from what he chose to tell you about him.

“Guess not,” he finally said.

You bit your lip and your grip strengthen on the knife you were holding. You were trying to find something to say but it felt like your head was spinning. You closed your eyes, but someone grabbed your hand before you could say anything.

“Y/N?” said Greg.

You took a deep breath.

“Y/N? Are you okay,” he said, now whispering, “He’s being an asshole because he doesn’t know you but I’ll tell him off if you want me to.”

“It’s fine, I-”

“Mycroft, if you are scaring Y/N away and making them feel bad, I’m kicking you out,” said Sherlock, coming from the living room.

He put down a dirty plate, which was probably used for an appetizer, in the sink. He cocked his head trying to look at you, but you swiftly turned the other side. You could see Mycroft roll his eyes out of the corner of your eye.

“I’m asking questions,” said Mycroft.

“You are being rude,” answered his brother.

As the two of them kept arguing, you stood closer the Greg.

“Don’t get mad at him, but can you just change the subject… like can it not be about me being shy…” you whispered to him.

After a moment, Sherlock either gave up or won, because he went back to the living room. Greg cleared his throat.

“Well, you know what this reminds me of?”

“No,” said Mycroft.

“Y/N and their brother,” Greg said.

“How come?” Mycroft asked.

“Lots of fighting!”

You punch Greg gently, knowing he would understand that this was you thanking him.

“Spoken like a true only child,” you said, “Siblings fight all the time. And I still love my brother.”

“So do I, Y/N, don’t get that wrong,” said Mycroft.

“I didn’t say that,” you said, again feeling like he was accusing you.

“So don’t go around hurting him.”

“Mycroft come on Y/N would never!” Greg said, taking a step forward, blocking you with his body, “You don’t get to treat people like that, they even got you a present, show some respect for fuck sake!”

You softly grabbed the back of Greg’s jacket. Everyone here were adults, there was no reason to act like Mycroft was some bully on the playground. You looked up, crossing Mycroft’s eyes for the first time. His gaze was so cold, it was like he was trying to read your mind just by staring at you. Without even noticing, you were now fully gripping Greg’s jacket.

“Were the one cooking, don’t forget so either you ap-”

But Greg couldn’t finish his sentence.

“I tend to be overprotective of my little brother,” said Mycroft, cutting him off, “Just like Lestrade seems to be overprotective of you.

“It’s fine,” you said.

“No, it’s not. I’ll admit, I’m not good at making friends but this clearly was wrong. I’m sorry Y/N.”

“I’m not much better at making friends,” you admitted, “Maybe we could try again?”

“I’d very much like that,” said Mycroft, “If Lestrade let you…”

“I…I’m not…” he tried to say, definitely troubled by what just happened.

“They make their own decisions,” he finally said, and then, turning to you, “That was weird and quick, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Greg. Don’t worry too much about me, please.”

He pulled you towards him and kissed the top of your head.

“So, what are you two doing here,” said Mycroft, wanting to start the whole conversation over.

...

Not long after, dinner was ready. Greg and you went around with plates that wouldn’t fit on the table and waited for everyone to be served before sitting down. Once everyone had eaten at least one plate, people started sharing gifts. It was all a bit chaotic, but that’s what made it fun. You gave Mycroft his gift and he seemed happy enough. Surprisingly, he also had one for you. You unwrapped it, dubious, but curious nonetheless. As soon as you saw what it was, you turned to show Greg. How could Mycroft give you our favourite childhood book, but not only that, the exact same edition that you’ve been trying to find for years now? Greg just shrugged. For the first time of the night, you turned to Mycroft smiling, as you thanked him.

[saraakpotter]

imagine: meeting Sherlock for the first time and him not being able to 'read' you

*y\f\c= your favorite country

You were one of Lestrade's close friends. you worked as a detective inspector in another country but you had recently moved here and since you were a highly intelligent person he thought you and Sherlock should meet.

And today he decided to go to 221b and bring you with him so here you are, standing at a strangers door.

"this is absurd, why should i come again?" you asked

"for god's sake y\n can you stop nagging for a minuet and do what you're told to do?" he says tired of you constantly asking the same question.

"if you are asking me, no" you teased

"oh shut it" he says and you smirk.

The door opens.

"DI Lestrade!" the man says and Greg nod's walking in and guiding you in too.

"so, this is my friend y\n y\l\n. she moved here from y\f\c" Lestrade explained.

"oh! John Watson. pleasure to meet you." he introduced and you smiled shaking his hand.

As you entered the flat and sat down you saw a man with curly brown hair and a black coat sitting on an armchair, his eyes closed.

Lestrade pointed at the man.

"he is Sherlock Holmes. the man i was telling you about." he says and you nod obviously bored. with that the man opens his eyes and looks at Greg but then quickly glances at you.

"who is that?" he asks

"Sherlock, this is my friend, y\n y\l\n."

Sherlock remains silence, looking you up and down. after a while he raises an eyebrow.

he quickly looks at John.

new coat is sleepy just talked to an old friend has a date is nervous

He turns and looks at Lestrade.

annoyed same coat stressed has 2 mission reports to read has 6 missed calls

The words and random facts kept coming to his mind, he hadn't lost his observation skills.

He turns his look at you.

????

Was all he could see.

He rose an eyebrow and looked you up and down again.

"interesting" he muttered to himself

"what was that?" you ask

"nothing.....so, y\n, right? what do you do? as a job i mean." he asks making John and Greg smirk.

[buckingham-ashtray]

to me one of the funniest things in asip is definitely when sherlock brought the man previously from his flat to the crime scene without even introducing him except for emphasizing "he's with me" and gavin lestrade was trying to decide whether a) if sherlock has really gone round the bend and decided to take a hostage to keep as a pet and he should save this man from sherlock or b) if this man is even more of a dangerous sociopathic nutter than sherlock and he should lock him up and save london from this man

[dontasktherain]

Imagine John and Sherlock being really busy for few days and leaving Rosie with Lestrade and one day after that John's like "Rosamund. You're room is a huge mess." and she just yells "NOT MY DIVISION!!!!"

[nightingale2004]

Sherlock BBC next generation: Johnlock version

Athena Jessica Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Emily Rudd

Athena is the biological daughter of Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes and older twin of her brother Hamish Scott Watson Holmes

Is the oldest twin by 10 minutes and 32 seconds

She takes after Sherlock but has a bit of Irene in her

Both Athena and Hamish were left on Sherlock's doorstep shortly after they were born

Similar to Sherlock, her deduction skills are flawless (in her words)

Considers John to be her parental figure and compatible with her father than Irene

She doesn't call Irene her mother, only by her first name

Unlike Sherlock, she actually likes learning astronomy

She has a love for art, fencing, and playing violin

She secretly pickpockets the entire London police, including Greg (it's her source of entertainment every now and then)

She hates socializing and finds "normal people" very, very.......boring (her sister, John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Greg are the exception)

She is fiercely protective of her siblings

Mastered the art of shutting off her emotions (in her opinion)

Loves experimenting with body parts or dead bodies with Sherlock

Loves to accompany both her dads to crime scenes

She has no filter

She is an extremely quick learner

Has her own mind palace

Is very skilled in martial arts

She takes ballet and art classes (mostly to avoid boredom)

Goes to the library..........a lot

Is a chemistry and science genius

Makes fun of her uncle Mycroft (Sherlock's idea)

Secretly keeps in contact with her aunt Eurus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hamish Scott Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Asa Butterfield

Younger twin of Athena and youngest son of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler

Unlike his twin, he's more sensitive than her and a little more empathetic to people.

Sherlock and John got an Irish setter for their kids and named him Redbeard

He takes after Sherlock in personality but looks like Irene with a hint of Sherlock

He is also very intelligent, like his father

He plays violin, piano and cello

He prefers to observe the crime scene from a distance

When he is in thinking mode, he becomes exactly like his sister and Sherlock

He is Molly's favorite

He knows how to shoot from a crossbow and a long bow

Hamish and Athena destroy their father at clue

He is a little slow on deductions, but he is still good.

Math genius

Extremely adventurous

He shoots arrows and darts at the wall when bored or frustrated

Hamish and his sister's visit their grandparents when they can

Both Hamish and Athena get Lestrade's name wrong every time

Both the Holmes twins correct their teachers if they something wrong in their lesson (which to them, is all the time)

Both John and Sherlock made the twins promise not to say their deductions out loud to their teachers or anyone involved in their educational journey (to avoid suspension or expulsion)

Prefer to be called high functioning sociopaths

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Rosamund "Rose/Rosie" Mary Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Meg Donnelly

Rose is the youngest Holmes in her family and considers herself and her father the only normal and sane ones in the family

She is John and Mary's daughter and Sherlock's stepdaughter

Despite not being related by blood, Rose loves her older siblings very much

Both John and Sherlock taught all their children self defense

She inherited her dad's love for creative writing

Rose has her own blog and even makes posts on her social media about her family and their adventures

Loves reading John's stories

She is sometimes jealous of Sherlock and her older siblings and their intellect

Every time she meets a boy, Athena and Hamish make a deduction about him or chase him away

Has a love for the medical field

Hates when bullies or most people make rude comments or remarks about her family

She and John cook

Rose has a picture of her mom

♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤

+ Mrs. Hudson's grand daughter

Allison "Ally" Martha Hudson

Faceclaim: Virginia Gardner

Allison is the granddaughter of the late Mrs. Martha Hudson

After Mrs. Hudson passed away (R.i.p to the legend Una Stubbs 🙏 you will be remembered). Ally's mom inherited the famous 221b Baker Street building, and now both Ally and her mom moved to London permanently and kept the building running

Allison was originally born and raised in America, but both Ally and her mom would visit Mrs. Hudson to spend some time with her

Allison loved her grandmother very much and held her close to her heart

Loved hearing her grandmother's crazy stories

She knows the Holmes family and has babysat the twins and Rosamund whenever she came to visit over the holidays

Sherlock and John see Allison and her mom as part of their family since Mrs. Hudson was family to them and their kids

Ally feels like she's the Holmes kids' mother and big sister most of the time

Hates it when the twins shoot her wall and keep crazy stuff in the fridge

Knows how to handle a gun

She is a divorce child

Weeks after her parents divorced, she never saw her dad again, and Ally spent a month over with Mrs. Hudson

She loves getting involved with the Holmes kids and their adventures

Reminds them constantly that she is NOT THEIR HOUSEKEEPER

[distinguishedkryptonitecreator]

𝕸𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖞'𝖘 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖒

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Series: Sherlock BBC

MASTERLIST

I II

Synopsis: You discover that you are in love, unfortunately with the same man your friend loves. How will you survive that.

Note: English is not my native language, so some words may not make sense, apologies in advance.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈

━━━━♡

The name Thomas Beckett made my heart skip a beat.

“Thomas Beckett? What’s going on with him?” I asked, trying to keep calm as I sat on the sofa. The gears in my mind began to spin rapidly, trying to understand why they were mentioning my boss’s partner.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if my words had bothered him, though he didn’t show it openly. His rigid posture and the way he clenched his jaw revealed that something else was going on. Mycroft, on the other hand, seemed impassive, as if he enjoyed my confusion.

“Miss, it’s quite simple. We know for certain that, despite holding a position not so prominent within the company hierarchy, you have certain connections with high-ranking officials,” Mycroft commented with a tone that carried a hint of disdain. I glared at him.

A position not so important? Really? My role as a senior developer was more than relevant. It wasn’t for nothing that I had spent so much time studying, sacrificing sleep and proper meals, taking various part-time jobs with low wages to pay for my studies, and enduring the distance from my family while living in a noisy shared flat. I was proud of what I had achieved and all I had done to get there, so his words only made me boil with anger.

“You know, I’m starting to think I might not want to collaborate with you,” I replied, crossing my arms firmly. Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond, Sherlock intervened, surprising even his brother.

“Listen, I know you got your position thanks to that intern program, and also that...” Sherlock paused, his blue eyes locking with mine as if he were unsure about what he was about to say, “that you have a history with Beckett.”

The mere mention of my past with Thomas made me feel as though the ground was slipping away from under my feet. It was true that Thomas and I had been more than friends in college. We were inseparable, and eventually, we became a couple. Thomas had always been the brilliant and attractive one, so his success with women didn’t surprise me. There was something about his charisma that drew people to him like a magnet.

However, everything ended. We went our separate ways, each with our own dreams. There was no sense in holding back. I would never forget the surprise I felt when, years later, I encountered him in one of the hallways of the place, with his immaculate dark suit and polished shoes. A smile from ear to ear that I hadn’t seen in a long time. The Thomas Beckett I knew as a student was now a man who had built his own cybersecurity company.

“What does that have to do with the case?” I asked, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Sherlock let out a sigh, as if finding it difficult to explain the obvious.

“Everything,” he replied with a coldness that left me stunned. “Beckett is under suspicion, and we need to know how involved he is in certain activities. Your proximity to him, both personal and professional, could be key to uncovering what’s really going on.”

“Suspicion of what?” I pressed, starting to feel that what I was about to hear would not be pleasant.

Sherlock looked at me with a mix of seriousness and something I couldn’t quite identify.

“Beckett is being investigated for alleged involvement in an industrial espionage network. There are suspicions that he has been selling confidential information from several tech companies, including yours, to foreign competitors. And it’s not just about his disloyal behavior. There are indications that this data is being used for purposes that compromise national security. There have been leaks pointing to connections between Beckett and an organization called Argus, known in the underworld for handling military contracts and cyber warfare technology.”

My heart raced as I processed his words. Thomas involved in something so murky. It was hard to believe, but I knew Sherlock didn’t say these things lightly.

“And what does this have to do with me?” I asked, though a part of me already suspected the answer.

“As a developer, you have access to sensitive information, and your past relationship with Beckett could have facilitated his access to what he needed,” Sherlock replied, his words sharp but laden with a concern he was trying to hide. “We need to know if you have any knowledge of something that could incriminate him or if you’ve been used, even unknowingly, to access that information.”

“Look, I understand this is a shock to you, but we’re not here to accuse you,” John interjected for the first time, his usual calm tone. “We want your help because we know you’re not involved, but also because you could be the key to stopping this before it spirals out of control. If Beckett is innocent, we’ll prove it. But if he’s not, you need to know he could be using his relationship with you for his own ends.”

“Exactly,” Mycroft added with a slight nod toward John. “We need someone on the inside, someone who can verify if our suspicions are correct. And who better than someone who has Beckett’s trust.”

My mind was in full turmoil. I knew that working with Sherlock and Mycroft could lead to unimaginable situations, but I never thought I’d find myself in something so serious, and even less that Thomas could be involved in something like this. What would this mean for my career, for my life? The consequences of collaborating with them could be devastating. I could lose my job, and my reputation would be in ruins. But if what they were saying was true, if Thomas was really involved in an espionage network, ignoring it wasn’t an option.

“If I agree to help, what guarantees do I have that this won’t affect my professional life?” I asked finally, looking directly into Sherlock’s eyes, hoping for some sign that he understood the risks I was facing.

Sherlock held my gaze for a moment that seemed eternal before responding, this time in a much softer tone, almost a whisper:

“You have my word that we will do everything possible to protect you. But we need you.”

I knew that getting involved in something like this could have severe consequences. Not only for me but for my career as well. What would happen if the company discovered that I was helping Mycroft and Sherlock in an investigation that could involve one of its major partners? The collateral damage could be devastating. However, there was something in Sherlock’s gaze, an indication that this case was not just another for him, that made me reconsider.

And although part of me knew I should stay away, that getting involved could destroy everything I had worked for, another part, perhaps the one that still cared for Thomas or the one that didn’t want to leave Sherlock to face this alone, decided to take the risk.

“Alright,” I said finally, feeling a knot in my stomach. “I’ll help.”

John nodded with an expression of gratitude, while Mycroft simply gave a calculating smile. Sherlock, however, did not show any immediate reaction. Only a slight glimmer in his eyes indicated that he had been expecting this response. I wondered if there was something more behind that look, something more personal. But there was no time for reflection. I was about to enter a dangerous game, and there was no turning back.

As they prepared to leave, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen to see a message from Molly.

┏━━━━•❅•°•❈ •°•❅•━━━━��

“Hey! Fancy a girls' night out? We haven’t had one in ages. Let me know!” ✓✓

┗━━━━•❅•°•❈ •°•❅•━━━━┛

━━━━♡

NOTE II:

I'm so sorry for missing out. I've been a little unmotivated and university doesn't help. But I hope you liked the chapter. You will hear from me soon, I promise.

[j-eryewrites]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝟸𝟸𝟷𝙱 𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝

PLAYLIST

AO3 Link

* I WILL BE GOING BACK AND EDITING EACH CHAPTER

Part One: It Was A Rainy Day

Part Two: A Study in Pink (I)

Part Three: A Study in Pink (II) 

Part Four: A Study in Pink (III)

Part Five: A Study in Pink (Final)

Part Six: The Abbey Grange Affair (I)

Part Seven: The Abbey Grange Affair (II)

Part Eight: The Abbey Grange Affair (III)

Part Nine: The Abbey Grange Affair (Final)

Part Ten: The Blind Banker (I)

Part Eleven: The Blind Banker (II) 

Part Twelve: The Blind Banker (III)

Part Thirteen: The Blind Banker (IV)

Part Fourteen: The Blind Banker (Final)

Part Fifteen: The Dancing Men (I)

Part Sixteen: The Dancing Men (II)

Part Seventeen: The Dancing Men (III)

Part Eighteen: The Dancing Men (Final)

Part Nineteen: The Great Game (I)

Part Twenty: The Great Game (II)

Part Twenty-One: The Great Game (III)

Part Twenty-Two: Coming Soon

______________________________

Tag list:  @bartokthealbinobat​ @biggerthancalli13​ @themartiansdaughter​ @sunsumonner @silversword7000​ @starlightaurorab​ @melody7​ @astudyinlaura​ @sherlockstrangewolf @neroarrow83​ @khaleesihavilliard

[specialagentlokitty]

Lestrade x Male!reader - the crime lover

Hey! Pretty please could you write about a meet cute between the reader and Lestrade, during the week leading up to Halloween so there are horror mazes and VR experiences, Halloween Parties and gatherings all over London. Lestrade gets a case at one of them and one of the witnesses is a Horror/true crime buff staff member (Reader) who catches his eye! Thanks in advance! Hope it’s the kinda request you were looking for - @the-imitation-blog 💜

Standing behind the desk, you flicked your gaze to the security cameras before looking back at the papers in front of you.

Walking to the other side of the office, you sat down on your desk as you looked through the updated contracts for the new adult only horror game sessions.

“Oi (Y/N).”

“Get lost Markus, busy.”

He scoffed a little bit and walked over, taking the papers from your hands.

“There’s some police here asking about video footage from a few days ago, you know relating to the murder from across the street.”

“Oh right, yeah send them in, also can you take those clues over to room four, they’ve been at it a while trying to escape and I feel kinda bad for them.”

Markus laughed and took the cards from your hands as he made his way back towards the door.

You turned back to what you were doing and heard the door open once again.

“I’m detective inspector Lestrade I’m here about the security footage.”

“Yeah, I’ll send Caroline in to show you, she knows how to do that.”

You pulled out your phone and texted said woman to come and help you, then sat in your chair as you began to make some notes on the contracts.

Lestrade glanced around the office, and he looked at you, watching you for a moment.

You were tall, dressed in some joggers and a baggy jumper, you looked pretty scrawny to him, probably similar to Sherlocks build in a way.

“What exactly do you do here?” He asked.

You looked up from your paperwork and you grinned a little at him.

“We offer a bit of everything, from escape rooms and VR experiences, to lectures on true crime from the past, and game nights revolving around them where the customers have to try and work together to figure out who really committed the crime.”

“Who runs those?”

You raised your hand and got up, heading to the other side of the room to get a drink, offering him a bottle of water which he took.

“I studied criminology in university, and I really enjoy reading and watching things about true crime. We only use case fifty or more years old however.”

Lestrade nodded his head and he looked around.

“Is there a possibility that somebody would try to recreate one of these events?” He asked.

You thought for a moment.

“Well, we do take the names and ID’s for everybody attending one of these sessions, and it’s strictly no photography or phones, you have to leave them with security. But I suppose if one of our customers were fascinated by one of the cases they could have taken it away for more research.”

“You let them take things?”

“No, no. We email out the tickets with the name of the event and what it would include, it’s part of the company policy so people can’t try to sue us for anything, they know what they’re getting into.”

Lestrade nodded his head, sitting opposite you when you sat down at your desk.

“We keep recordings and documents from all these events for up to three months, I can show you everything from that night if that helps you.”

“We’d have to look at everything you have from before then if that’s possible.”

You nodded your head.

“Of course, I have send it all over to you by the end of the day.”

“Thank you so much.”

You smiled at him and you carried on discussing the case with the detective, offering him all the information you possible could.

Lestrade realised that you were well versed in everything, you really were a fan of true crime because you were able to help him narrow down what events he needed to be looking for.

You have him your own alibi and proof as well, including what you could for the rest of the workers at the centre.

Caroline came inc and you let her take him through the footage while you carried on with your work.

But every so often when you walked past Lestrade would glance at you.

It wasn’t that he suspected you, they had already ruled out all of the workers, so he knew that it wasn’t you.

But your vast knowledge and your dedication to it all amazed him, and in a way he was captivated, curious and wanting to know more about you.

But once he had to footage he had to leave, and he was sure that was the last time he was going to see you.

Until that evening when you came by with a box in your hands and you set it on his desk, grinning from ear to ear at him.

You had changed from your jumper into a sleeveless hoodie, and Lestrade couldn’t help but eye up your biceps.

They were huge, considering you looked like a man without muscle he was impressed to say the least.

“I have a few more boxes for you, I’ll bring them in now.”

“Thank you so much.”

You grinned at him again and carried on bringing everything in.

“This is the last box, you can keep these until you’re ready to give them back we only keep them for reasons such as this.”

“You’ve been a huge help (Y/N), really.”

“If you need anymore help, just ask.”

Lestrade found himself talking before he thought it through.

“Maybe you can tell me more of what you know over a drink, like a coffee.” He blurted.

Laughing, you nodded your head.

“You’ve got my number, just let me know when and where.”

With that, Lestrade watched you leave, and he sat back down at his desk with his head in his hands.

He couldn’t believe he had just done that, especially while he was supposed to be working a case but something about you drew him in and he wanted to know more

[epifaniax07]

[forevers-world]

Imagine attending Greg and Molly's wedding.

[acrushedrosestillwins]

I Googled Christmas-themed waistcoat... look at this.... imagine Mycroft... all business and serious, the umbrella in his hand...and one of these...

[bullet-prooflove]

Solace - Mystrade - Mycroft Holmes x Gregory Lestrade

An early Christmas present for one of the best friends a girl could have @me-ladie​

It’s just a kid.

It’s never just a kid. Greg thought his head in his hands as he sucked in deep breaths. When you said he was just a kid you meant that in a forlorn tone, one that marred the loss of someone so innocent, a mourning tone if you will.

He palmed at his eyeballs rubbing them until they felt rawer than they had before.

He could never get that image out of his head, the one of that child beaten to death by this own father. Sherlock called it tragic in that dry way of his. John felt it, he had seen it in the grim set of his mouth, in the haunted look in the other man’s eyes as he tried to steel himself against it.

Just a kid, Donovan’s words spun around his head like a merry go round or the waltz at the funfair.

This kid was just another of a long line that Greg added to the gallery in his head. It stabbed at him cases like this, cases where they thought they could get away with it. He had almost lost it in the interrogation room when that piece of shit had run his mouth. It left a sour taste on his tongue, like bile climbing up from the pit of his stomach as he tried to force it back.

It had been just a kid, a kid that had no one else in the world, a kid that hadn’t stood a chance.

A throat cleared in the doorway of his office, he tipped his head up to see Mycroft standing there, that navy blue overcoat wrapped around his lithe frame. His blue eyes were wide and expressive as he fixed on Greg sat behind his desk.

Greg tilted his head away. He didn’t want to taint Mycroft with this, he didn’t want to the other man to judge him, to see him as weak. They weren’t at that point where he could express himself. There had been a couple of dates, stolen kisses and breathy promises but this was far too much for something so new. There was a darkness in him that nobody got to see, that he shielded away, it crawled over his skin like ants, urging him to scratch at himself.  He ignored the sensation, he couldn’t do this, not here and now.

Mycroft stepped forward placing a small takeout container of soup onto the edge of his desk before removing a pack of crackers from his pocket and sliding it towards Greg.

“I know you don’t feel like eating.” Mycroft said quietly. “But you need to if you want to do Samuel justice.”

Greg didn’t ask how he knew; how did the other man know anything? He nodded, keeping his gaze firmly away from Mycroft. In a way Mycroft was right, he had to keep his strength up, but he felt destroyed from the outside in. He felt hollow and empty, like he had been eviscerated and sewn back up again.

“Greg.” Mycroft’s voice chided, his hand coming to rest on Greg’s arm. He found himself looking into those fathomless blue eyes and seeing compassion in them, concern. His muscles sagged under the weight of the burden of this case, he felt like Atlas holding up the world on his shoulders. Mycroft’s arms wrapped around him and without another word, he drew Greg into an embrace. Greg tensed for a second, his arms locking around Mycroft’s waist as he took respite in this moment of solace, drinking it down like a fine wine. He needed this, needed Mycroft, his strength, his resilience. He inhaled the scent of his aftershave, the scent of bergamot grounding him.

“I needed this.” He whispered against the other man’s shoulder. “Somehow you always know what I need.”

Mycroft said nothing as he drew away, instead he inclined his head towards the soup still untouched on the desk.

“Eat up, you have a killer to catch.”

[letthewhumpbegin]

The Perks of a Broken Mind Palace

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC) Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Greg Lestrade Prompt: this was written for the prompt "Panic Attack" for @whumpril Day 1. Word count: 1103 Warnings: descriptions of panic / anxiety attack.

He opened every door of his Mind Palace and walked down every corridor of it, searching every inch, every nook and cranny, but kept coming back empty-handed.

Sherlock stood in the middle of Lestrade's office, pressing his fingertips hard against his temples. He closed his eyes and willed himself to think harder. Lestrade needed his help in this murder case, and Sherlock knew he had recently read something important about the victim. But what was it again? If only he could find it in his Mind Palace!

Sherlock growled softly in frustration. "Sherlock?" Lestrade sounded slightly worried. Even for Sherlock this current behavior was off. "Shut up," Sherlock snapped back. He could feel everyone in the room staring at him. Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan…

Again, Sherlock willed himself to go down deep into his Mind Palace. Again, he searched every inch of it, and again, he came back with nothing. This had never happened to him before. He had always been able to rely on his Mind Palace, but now it let him down. And that scared him beyond anything...

Sherlock felt his mind get foggy, and his breathing was getting faster. The trembling which had started in his fingertips rapidly spread to the rest of his body. Sherlock already knew what was coming. He was cruelly, vividly aware of it, but could do nothing to stop it anymore.

He quickly lost awareness of his surroundings now, as all he felt was the anxiety coursing through him. His breath caught high in his chest, making him feel short of breath, and his heart was nearly hammering itself out of his chest.

Lestrade watched the consulting detective visibly spiral out of control in front of him. He had no idea how to handle this, but what he did know was that they did not need an audience right now.

"Get out." Lestrade ordered Anderson and Donovan. They, too, had been staring at Sherlock in horror. "Why?!" Anderson immediately retorted. "Because this does not concern you!" Lestrade barked back, ushering his colleagues out of the office.

As soon as Anderson and Donovan had grudgingly retreated to the hallway, and the door had fallen shut behind them, Lestrade shifted his attention back to Sherlock. He had only once before seen the consulting detective have a panic attack, and that had ended with him crashing to the floor and knocked out for a short while. Lestrade would do everything in his power to prevent that from happening again today.

"Sherlock." Lestrade kept his voice as calm as possible in their current situation. "Sherlock, calm down." The consulting detective did not respond. He still stood in the middle of the office, with his eyes tightly shut, and his hands pressed firmly to his temples. He was shaking all over, and breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

"Sherlock." Lestrade tried again, taking a few tentative steps closer, and carefully reaching a hand out for the consulting detective's shoulder. "It's okay, calm down. I need you to look at me." Sherlock reacted as if he'd been burned. He staggered backwards, fleeing from Lestrade's well-meant hand on his shoulder, until his back hit the wall on the opposite side of the office.

"Don't..." Sherlock whimpered softly, sliding down the wall to the ground. He never opened his eyes and never took his hands from his temples. Sitting in a heap on the floor, Sherlock's wheezing, panicked breaths filled the office.

Lestrade stared helplessly at the dark-haired man. How the hell did one handle this? Where was John Watson when you needed him?! Because John would surely know what to do.

All Lestrade could think of was to distract Sherlock and hope that that would be enough to bring him back to his senses. He knelt down in front of Sherlock, and gently wrapped his hands around the consulting detective's wrists. He could feel the clamminess of Sherlock's skin and the pulse racing beneath his fingers. Sherlock sat like a child afraid of the monster under his bed: knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed low and eyes squeezed shut. His panic attack was still running high, and no matter what Lestrade did, he could not get through to him.

Lestrade began to realize it was time for more drastic measures. What he had in mind could go both ways, but the situation couldn't get much worse than this, so he would give it a try.

Lestrade tightened his grip around Sherlock's wrists, and yanked the consulting detective's hands away from his temples in one confident motion. Sherlock gasped softly at the sudden action, and slowly opened his eyes. "John?" He muttered wearily. "No, it's Greg," Lestrade answered, "or Graham, or Gill, or whatever you want to call me today." Sherlock chuckled softly, and Lestrade gladly realized he was finally getting through.

Sherlock's breathing slowly regained a more healthy rhythm, and his hands were no longer trembling. Still, Lestrade stayed where he was, kneeling down in front of the dark-haired man and making sure he truly was alright. Sherlock gently freed his wrists from Lestrade's grip and passed both hands over his face. "Take deep breaths," Lestrade spoke softly, "it will help you calm down." Sherlock only nodded wordlessly in reply, but did follow up on the advice.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock mumbled after a few more minutes of sitting on the ground. "I cannot seem to find the information you need." Lestrade waved the apology away. "Don't worry. Don't torture yourself about it." Sherlock shot him a glaring look in reply. "Okay, just saying..." Lestrade mumbled in defense, before standing up and moving over to sit on his desk chair. This surely looked like the usual Sherlock again.

Sherlock remained seated on the ground, gradually regaining the last bit of control over himself. It had been a while since he had last had a panic attack like this, and it had drained him of quite some energy. He needed a moment to recollect himself and get his thoughts straight again.

After about ten minutes Sherlock slowly rose to his feet, buttoned up his coat and put up his collar. Lestrade watched him silently, but closely. "I'll still find it," Sherlock announced determinedly. The detective inspector simply nodded in reply at that. Without another word, Sherlock turned around and left the office.

Lestrade watched as Sherlock exited and stared at the door long after the consulting detective had left. It was clarifying to him that Sherlock, too, could lose control like that. And that somewhere beneath all his flaws and peculiarities, Sherlock Holmes still was a human being…

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