dear_mun | spoilers for reichenbach ; voicetesting

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spoilers for reichenbach ; voicetesting

[Lestrade is unusually somber, but trying not to show it. Judge him all you like.]

It's hard to believe that there isn't some amount of chance when you've seen him take nothing but a footprint and save two kids' lives. Surely he can cheat his way out of a damn --

[Pause.]

-- I'll personally invite Anderson and Donovan to the 'I told you so' party when it's unveiled that these ridiculous gossip rags are wrong. Along with serving them their transfer papers.

[And then a slight clearing of his throat.]

I only work with the best.

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You act like I stopped, Sherlock.

[Somewhat snippishly. If it hadn't been required practically by gunpoint, he would have never had Holmes arrested in the first place.

-- but, again, it's gone in a flash, and Lestrade rolls his eyes to look at the ceiling.]

There's absolutely no way to perform damage control on this, you know.

I don't care. If you all survive, then I shall consider the damage controlled.

[ ... hang on, give him a moment to absorb that as he stares a bit dumbly. Lestrade is certainly no Sherlock Holmes, but he's not an idiot, either, and the pieces seem to click together after a moment or two of contemplation.

The lack of contact after they ran away, Watson not contacting him the moment he knew something was wrong, hearing about the suicide off the fucking television instead of anyone bothering to tell him beforehand --

Lestrade presses his fingers against his forehead. A headache is forming.]

-- a bloody psychopath isn't going to shoot anyone in the street because they think it's funny while I still have license to carry a gun, much less me, or anyone else that you ... [awkward, because 'care about' is a weird term, and it's uncomfortable to think that he is part of the reason why Sherlock felt the need to do something so insane] -- know.

[Pause.]

Idiot.

[It's muttered, but there. DI Lestrade called Sherlock Holmes an idiot. Someone write the papers. It'll never happen again.]

Forgive me if I don't take your word for it. Especially considering that in the last few days, two people have been shot in the street for having the gall to shake my hand.

While you may be a tolerable police officer, if I wasn't able to stop them, what hope do you have? And Mrs Hudson? How shall she defend herself?

The solution's not jumping off a hospital, Sherlock!

[In a snap of frustration.]

For heaven's sake, you've all of Scotland Yard at your fingertips if you'd taken the time to ask for it, consequences be damned. I'd rather deal with paper trail nightmare of not getting fired or being tossed in jail than having to examine your big-headed corpse to make sure you're dead as a doornail.

Were you at my fingertips when you were dragging me off in handcuffs? I had no reason to trust them.

[Just as snappish.]

Molly dealt with the examination, Mycroft will handle the paperwork.

Oh, don't be stupid.

[Aggravated, now.]

I didn't exactly go rushing after you when you stole a gun and ran off into the night with your hostage, either. And, for your very own information, I fought to keep you out of jail -- but you haven't exactly made a lot of friends on the force you love to mock and ridicule.

[Huff.]

Christ, you're insufferable even when you're dead.

I'm not dead.

[Petulant.

For once, he is attempting to do what is right, rather than what is exhilarating. He thought it would feel... better, somehow.]

[Yes, well. Join the club of feeling things. It really isn't all that much of a laugh.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, but Lestrade restrains himself from being petulant in return. It will only cause the stupid argument to continue and arguing with Sherlock Holmes is never profitable.]

You would do well to make your quiet re-entry into the world of crime and justice shortly, then.

Don't you think I'm trying?

This is all hardly ideal.

[A twitch of the lips before he rolls his eyes, sighing.]

What do you need me to do?

Don't get killed.

[He looks startled, for a moment, before he pauses, hesitantly reaching out a hand to clasp Sherlock by the shoulder, shaking him gently, in a sign of comfort. If you squinted.]

I've put up with you for five years, I'm pretty sure I'm damn near invincible.

With only a slightly neurotic tendency to scream when I walk into the room.

[He points out, with a crooked look.]

You're a terrifying individual to behold, Sherlock Holmes.

[With something even slightly resembling a grin, if only just.]

Don't forget it, Lestrade.

Take care.

How could I ever?

[Pause.]

Of course. You too.

Don't be too surprised if I punch you when we meet again, hm?

Is no one going to believe me that you were all going to die?

[If he were less of an elitist he'd keysmash.]

Oh, I believe you. But that doesn't mean I want your face smashed into some pavement to prevent it.

[Lestrade arches an eyebrow.]

But --

[fglkhf]

Thank you. John and Mrs. Hudson certainly didn't need to be wrapped up in police business, hm?

No, they're quite wrapped up as it is, more than enough, don't you think?

I've no intention of bothering them for much of anything, but I can't stop them from coming to me to offer their assistance.

[And by 'they', he really means John.]

Yes, I would imagine not.

We shall deal with that when we come to it.

With all this 'we' business, one might think you're almost starting to put us lower lifeforms on the same level as the genius of Sherlock Holmes.

[He's just poking fun. It's almost appreciative.]

I shall mind my wording more carefully.

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