Parental Guidance

Greg stared at the texts with, to be cliché, an impending sense of doom.

Sherlock never texted him, never, with such words as Help or please. It wasn't in Sherlock Holmes's repertoire. He wanted to make people beg him for help, not beg other people for help. The only time Sherlock had ever said please was in the tone of Lestrade, please! I NEED a case. I'm going to start smoking if you don't give me one and it's going to be all your fault. And even sarcastic pleases were rare occurences, so Greg felt vaguely sick to his stomach as Sherlock was literally begging for his help.

Sherlock got himself in bad. He always had, ever since Greg had met him. Fires and bombs and shooting, drug use and overall rudeness. The type of things that could be happening to him to make him beg for mercy from someone he didn't even care for that much made Greg take a half step back towards the cruiser.

And why him? Why not John? Was John in danger, too? Oh, no. He was about to be married, for God's sake!

Greg knew that Donovan didn't understand why he ran out from the crime scene of the century just to go check on the consulting detective that hated the world, but he didn't care. Mastermind criminals versus the safety of one of his friends, maybe two... He couldn't argue. He couldn't fight against something like that. If Sherlock died while Greg had made the arrest, what then? He would hate himself forever.

So, he had to go to Sherlock.

Knowing the things that Sherlock could get into, he didn't bother to text him before before he called his precinct and demanded back-up, high security. He didn't even have to tell them the address. Just 'Baker Street', because everyone at his precinct knew there was only one person on Baker Street to warrant such an action.

The flat was silent when he arrived. It did little for his nerves and he ran up the stairs, only to come to a standstill when he found Sherlock, looking perfectly fine, sitting at the study desk with his head in his hands, staring at the laptop.

"This is hard," Sherlock muttered without looking up.

"What?" Greg breathed, frowning.

"Hardest thing I've ever had to do..." Sherlock removed his hand from his face to grab a book, holding it up so Greg could read it.

How to...

The best man speech?! Sherlock had texted him to ask him to help write the best man speech?!

Oh, he was really going to murder the bastard one of these days.

"Didn't go to any trouble, did you?" Sherlock asked.

The helicopter he'd called for made its appearance known just then, through the chopping of the blades outside. Sherlock's eyes slid to the window as the curtains blew in and violin music floated from the stand. He flicked his gaze back to Greg a half second later.

Yeah, he was really going to murder him.

Bloody git. And here Greg had been thinking that something was actually wrong...

To be fair, with Sherlock's track record, he had to have assumed, right? It wasn't like he couldn't have assumed it, because what if something actually had been wrong?

Greg sighed. He felt like a bloody parent sometimes when it came right down to it, to chasing Sherlock all over London. No, Greg didn't think he was far old enough to be Sherlock's real dad, of course not... but sometimes.

This was why he didn't have kids, wasn't it? Because he had to babysit Sherlock bloody Holmes all the time.

(Well, and partially because his wife and the gym teacher and... yeah.)

Rubbing his eyes and hoping he could chase away the headache before it turned into something worse, Greg resolved that he was going to have a conversation with John about reigning in his best friend... at the pub. Over something strong. Very strong. Because a few drinks never hurt anybody.

With Sherlock Holmes under his wing, God knew he needed it.

I have loved these two as sort of a father/son figure (even if the age difference is off...) ever since I first watched Sherlock, I think, so the beginning of The Sign of Three was so so lovely for me. I love Greg. Sherlock can't even be arsed to learn his name, but Greg would lay down his life for him.

I do not own Sherlock. Thank you!