Friends like These Chapter 3, a sherlock fanfic

Disclaimer: It does not surprise me, in the slightest, that I still own nothing.

Summary: He's honestly way too good for these people. Christ, he needs to get new friends. A Sherlolly story told through Greg Lestrade's eyes, before, during and after the Fall.

Pairings: Sherlock/Molly, (friendship) Greg/Molly, (mentions) Greg/OFC, (eventual) John/Mary

AN down at the bottom

Friends like These

Part 3: After the Fall

It's because of Sherlock's elaborate (not to mention quite dangerous and possibly illegal) plan that they arrest Sebastian Moran. Greg is a bit fuzzy on the details (which probably has to do with the fact that Moran tried to choke him to death) but all he knows is that Moran is going to be locked up for a very very long time and Sherlock will be able to come back home, alive.

Huh. Sherlock is coming back home. Back from the dead. If his entire body didn't hurt so much, Greg would probably laugh. As it stands, he's content to sit and let the paramedics look after him. He messaged Molly, told her to let Lizzy know that he'd most likely be coming in for scans and to get a first-aid kit ready because Sherlock is pretty banged up too. Oh and to let John know.

(Greg is definitely not missing that reunion.)

John punches Sherlock in a very similar fashion to how he punched Greg all those years ago but for some reason it's all very bittersweet, because as soon as he punches him, John busts out into tears (manly tears, John will continue to lament for the years to come, they were manly tears) and hugs his best friend whom he thought was dead.

They're all crowded into one room (Sherlock, John, Molly, Mary, Lizzie and himself) and he knows it's against hospital policy but the lot of them have never been one to follow rules, so why start now, right?

Lizzie is reprimanding him for being so fucking stupid, all the while looking at him with love and adoration and he feels his heart swell (when he gets home tonight, he's not letting her out of his sight nor out of their bed), Mary is rubbing John's back as he rants and raves at Sherlock and then he collapses onto a chair and shakes his head. "You have no idea how happy I actually am."

Molly is doing her best to patch up Sherlock. She smiles lightly at him and rolls her eyes when he pouts and winces. He really is such an overgrown man-child sometimes. Sherlock for his part, is following her every movement with his eyes. He'll take his eyes off of her every now and then to say something (that something usually always has Greg and John groaning, "shut-up, Sherlock.") but his clear blue eyes will always go back to Molly, assessing her, making sure that she's actually there.

(Greg doesn't say it aloud, but he thinks to himself that not even heaven and hell will be able to remove Molly from Sherlock's side.)

"So," Lizzie says quietly to Greg as she follows Greg's gaze to Sherlock whose lips are lifting in a small smile at something Molly is rambling on about, "that's Sherlock Holmes."

Greg nods. "Oh, Lizzie. Our lives have just gotten so much more interesting." He says with a rough voice.

Greg does get the promotion but he declines it.

He likes being Detective Inspector. If he took the promotion, he wouldn't be Detective Inspector anymore. He likes being on the scene, he likes piecing things together and most of all, he likes working with Sherlock. If he were to take the promotion, he wouldn't be able to do any of that and he knows for a fact that none of the other Detective Inspectors would call Sherlock to consult.

(And okay, so maybe Greg is being a little bit selfish but they just got Sherlock back and he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious to know how he took down Moriarty's network. He won't say a thing about it and Greg doesn't know if it's for their own good or for Sherlock's.)

Everyone at the Yard looks at him like he's crazy for turning the promotion down. Greg doesn't care. Lizzie understood and even agreed with him. Sherlock looked oddly pleased with himself. John shrugged. Mary smiled.

Greg and Molly shared matching grins.

Greg and Molly still meet at the pub. Most of the times it's with the entire group (which means they have to drag Sherlock out by having Molly promise to bring him body parts) but sometimes, it's just Molly and Greg and Greg finds that he likes those nights the best.

"So," he says conversationally, "you and Sherlock."

She shakes her head, sighs and smiles sadly. "There is no me and Sherlock. There's just me and then there's Sherlock. And…I'm okay with that."

Greg frowns. "I'm not."

Molly laughs. "It's fine. Besides, he's back, you know? I don't care about anything romantic or flowers or anything, he's just back and alive."

"Molly," Greg asks, leaning forward. He's been wanting to ask this question ever since he found out about Molly's part in Sherlock's fake death. He just doesn't know how to ask it without coming off seeming…well, like a prick. "I need to ask you a question and I don't know how…" he trails off.

She smiles knowingly. "Why me?"

Greg nods, relieved that Molly gets it. Molly gets everything.

Then she smiles sadly at him again and his heartstrings pull against his chest. "He told me I count."

He leaves Molly's flat after he makes sure that she's gotten inside safely and walks to his car, only to stop and groan as a sleek black car comes to a stop beside him. The door opens and Greg grudgingly gets in.

Mycroft Holmes. He's met the man once, can obviously see why Sherlock has a love/hate/indifferent/petulant relationship with his older brother. If he had an older brother like Mycroft, he'd hitch a hissy fit every time he'd see him too.

"What can I do for you?" Greg asks, cutting to the chase. He's learned not to make small talk with this particular Holmes (well, really, any Holmes.)

"Molly Hooper." Mycroft says, his voice sounding regal. What a ponce (Greg would wager all of his money that Mycroft was made fun of as a kid, but then, he can't really even see Mycroft as a kid.)

Greg narrows his eyes. "What do you want with her? I swear, between the two of you, I'm surprised Molly hasn't murdered either one of you yet." Eh…maybe he should reconsider that statement, since technically, Molly did kill the youngest Holmes. But not really. It's still confusing to him.

The woman, Anthea, puts a small key in Mycroft's hand and then Mycroft hands it to Greg. "This," He says, "is the key to 221c. Only Mrs. Hudson has it and I persuaded her to let me have it. Miss Hooper is terrified of small spaces so a closet will do her no good. However, 221c is spacious enough for them to breathe and discuss."

Oh. Oh. Mycroft Holmes…matchmaker. Who would have thought? He looks at him wearily and takes the key anyways. He may not use it, but it would always be something to have in handy. "Why are you doing this?"

Mycroft smiles thinly. "My brother abhors sentiment yet throughout the past three years I have seen him struggling, quite amusingly, I may add, to come to terms to what he feels for Miss Hooper. It grows tiresome and if he does not act than Miss Hooper will move on. Of this, I am absolutely certain. I quite like Miss Hooper."

It's good enough for him. So, he nods and gets out of the car. Before he closes the door, he leans in. "Oh and Mycroft? It's Doctor Hooper."

Before he has a chance to even put his plan into action, someone is murdered.

Well, that's not much of a surprise really, seeing as how this is London. But Operation Get-Molly-and-Sherlock-and-save-all-of-our-sanities is put on the backburner.

Until the unexpected happens.

Molly meets someone. A man. From her Uni days (because that wasn't a clusterfuck and a half the last time.)

Greg is in the morgue going over an autopsy with Molly with Sherlock's running commentary from the other side of the room and John is falling asleep standing up (it's just like the old days, he muses) when the doors open and a tall, well-built man comes in. He's wearing trousers and a blue button up shirt. His eyes are an alarming shade of green and he has an easy-going smile. "Hey Molls, thought we'd grab a bite to eat-oh, hello there."

John's eyes pop open and he stares at the man, mouth gaping. Greg looks at Molly with a wounded expression (when did she have the time to meet a man? And why the fuck did she not tell him? Fantastic, he's turning into a bloody woman) and Sherlock, well, Sherlock tenses and turns around in his stool slowly, bright blue eyes burning and assessing the man in front of him.

The man shifts and turns his head towards Molly. "Is this…okay?"

Molly smiles and looks at him. "Phil, meet John Watson, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes. Everyone this is Phil. We know each other from Uni."

"Like you knew Dennis from Uni?" Greg can't help but ask snidely. (So sue him, Molly withheld information from him. Vital information. Potentially life threatening, if Sherlock's hard glare is anything to go by, information. People these days.)

"Dennis?" Phil asks confused.

"Long story." Molly says. She shrugs off her lab coat and puts on her regular one. "I'm starving. Let's eat. See you guys later!"

And then she's gone.

And Sherlock explodes in a flurry of words and hand gestures.

Greg can't even keep up with half of what he's saying. He's talking fast and he's talking loud and he's cursing. Sherlock Holmes is cursing. Because of Molly Hooper. Oh God. He needs to record this. Where's his phone? This shit is going viral. Now.

"How dare she?" He's running his hands through his hair and Greg knows he only does this when he's really truly frustrated.

"Maybe she's tired of waiting." Greg tells him.

Sherlock stops. "What?"

"Sherlock," Greg starts, "Molly has loved you for the past five years. Understand that? Five. You've done nothing but hurt her and she's done nothing but be there for you. She risked her life and job for you, not to mention she lied to me-us" he corrects, hearing John's cough, "for three years to protect your secret. Now, listen to me you stubborn little shit, you like her. You feel things for her. Don't try to bullshit me because I know. I see you. So, do me-us" he amends at John's cough once again, "a favor and tell her that you have feelings for her and want to be in an exclusive relationship with her."

"I don't do relationships." He says haughtily.

"You bloody will with Molly." Greg snaps. "Stop being so emotionally stunted you big baby and just tell her how you feel because I swear to you I'm going to lose my goddamn mind and I really will shoot you if you break her heart one more time."

Sherlock stares at him and then strides out the doors, leaving him and John alone.

"You know," John says, "I've always wanted to lock them in a closet."

Greg sighs with relief, "I thought I was the only one!"

(Talk of locking people in closets; threatening to shoot them, fake deaths…Christ, he really needs to get new friends.)

Greg doesn't hear from Molly in forty-eight hours, which isn't really unusual but he's a bit worried that Sherlock said something to hurt her (and God help the high-functioning sociopath if he did) so he tells Lizzie that he's going to see her and make sure that everything is okay and that she's not wallowing in her self-pity alone. (He vaguely remembers thinking that he hadn't heard from Sherlock in forty-eight hours either. Not that he makes that connection until it's too late.)

Lizzie tries to tell him to leave it alone. Begs him really, but won't tell him why. Mary calls him and orders him to leave it alone. John messages him and wants to know why Mary is cursing him up and down. He makes his way in (with the key that Molly had given him years ago) and lets himself into her flat. "Molly?" He calls out, shaking from the slight cold, "is everything-sweet Jesus! Cover up man!" He yelps, covering his eyes and turning around. "My eyes!" He bemoans. "Molly, I am so so sorry."

"Greg!" Molly shrieks from her place underneath one very naked Consulting Detective on the sofa (he's never sitting on that thing ever again). "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you! So I came to see you, obviously not expecting this-where's your bleach?"

"Didn't Lizzie or Mary tell you I was busy?"

Oh, was that what they were trying to say? Well then why didn't they just say 'Molly can't come to phone right now because she's busying shagging the one man she's been in love with for five years and if you ruin this for her we'll end you.' He would have understood that. Women.

"I locked the door." Sherlock growled.

"I have a key."

"Think you can leave, Greg?" Molly asks.

"YES! I'm on my way out. Sorry!"

"Leave the key." Sherlock's voice is deep and strained and Greg doesn't even want to know why.

He stumbles with the ring of keys and slams her key on the table and shuts the door on his way out.

Jesus Christ, that does it, he needs new friends.

(He's a little disappointed that he wasn't able to lock them in a closet though.)

(He won't ever admit it to anyone, but for being so tall and lanky, Sherlock Holmes has a fantastically sculpted arse.)

"So…Sherlock?"

"Shut-up, Greg."

Greg laughs until he can't breathe and Molly blushes until she's a jumbled red mess.

Three years after Sherlock's return (six years after the Fall)

"He's so precious!" Mary squeals, she latches onto John's arm and they both grin, balloons and teddy bears in their hands.

"Greg, he's going to have your eyes, I just know it." Molly comments as she smiles down at both Lizzie and their newborn son.

"It is physically impossible for you tell that at-"

"Shut-up, Sherlock." John says through his teeth.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and places a bag of presents on the table next to the window. He does so hesitantly, as if he doesn't know what to do in this type of situation. He's out of his depth, Greg thinks humorously, before turning back to see Lizzie and his son.

His son. Jesus, he's a father.

"What's his name?" John asks.

"Vincent Sheldon Lestrade." Lizzie answers, happily but tiredly.

Mary and Molly coo at the same time.

These past years have been long and tedious filled with ups and downs, outrageous laughter and gut-wrenching cries, loves and losses, marriages and pregnancies and reminding Sherlock time and time again that sometimes the things he says are a bit not good.

"Oh, I can't wait to have mine." Mary proclaims.

Lizzie laughs and then winces. "Wait until the pain hits." She looks sideways at John and gives him a sympathetic smile, "I almost broke Greg's hand."

Greg snickers and flexes his hand. "I've regained some of the feelings in my fingers." He puffs out his chest and knows he has a stupid grin on his grin. "I'm a dad."

"Obviously." Sherlock comments. He's on the other side of the bed standing next to Molly as she continues to talk with Mary and Lizzie.

Ah, the Hooper-Holmes (or Holmes-Hooper, it really depends on who he's talking to at the time) relationship. It's an odd relationship; filled with dead body parts and quite possibly the most disturbing foreplay but oddly, it wouldn't be the same if they were just an ordinary couple. Being that he's Sherlock Holmes and she's Molly Hooper, everyone knew that their relationship would not be conventional. And it isn't.

Molly has gotten used to saying no and takes pleasure in agitating Sherlock. Sherlock now knows when to comment on her weight gain or loss (thank God for small favors because Greg was going to kill Sherlock when he stayed with him and Lizzie one night.) Needless to say, there have been threats and there's been one kidnapping (which sent Sherlock on a rampage throughout half of London and Greg happened looked the other way when said perpetrator ended up dead with multiple shots to the head. It was a fucking mess. He got Anderson to clean it up.)

They don't say I love you and Greg knows that they don't have to. With Sherlock and Molly, actions speak louder. So, it's in the soft looks and her hands through his hair that she tells him that she loves him. It's through the numerous body parts and bags of blood that she tells him she's his forever. It's the lingering almost touches and the slight rubbing of his nose in her hair that he tells her he loves her. It's in the glowers he gives to men who seek her attention and the blatant disregard to any female who wants his that he tells her he's hers forever.

It's in the aftermath of rows when they gravitate towards each other, her head leaning against his chest and his arms wrapped around her waist that they promise to stand beside (never in front of or behind, but always beside) each other.

"I will obviously teach them the art of observation and deduction." Sherlock says to Greg and John. He says this to John, as Mary is already six months pregnant.

John sputters. "I'm sorry what?"

"Well," Sherlock says impatiently, "who else is going to teach them it?"

"Us. Their fathers." Greg responds.

"I am not having my nephews be plebeians."

"What are they talking about?" Lizzie asks Molly.

Molly shakes her head. "Don't worry. I'll make sure they won't see their first dead body until they're at least seven."

"Ten." John counters.

"I'd prefer never." Mary cuts in.

"It's inevitable," Greg agrees, "what with our jobs."

God, we really are a morbid bunch, aren't they?

His heart swells when he sees Molly discreetly slip her hand into Sherlock's and he grins when he sees Sherlock squeeze back.

"All I know," Greg says as he looks around the room at his group of mismatched friends who have been through hell and back for each other, "is that all our children are going to fucking gorgeous and really really brilliant."

They take a moment to let that actually sink in.

(God help the entire world when the future generation of Watson's, Lestrade's and Holmes' grow up because they're going to be unstoppable.)

Greg has long since stopped trying to make new friends. He's even stopped thinking that he needs to get new friends because he's more than okay with the ones he has right now.

(In fact, he'll even go as far to say he loves them. It's no lie that he still wants to shoot Sherlock sometimes though…okay, fine, most of the times.)

I think I'm a sucker for fluff and a happy ending and everything working itself out. Because I want to believe that it'll work out in the end. You know? LOL. And there we have it, Greg Lestrade ships Sherlolly. `Effin' Mycroft Holmes ships Sherlolly. They are meant to be. OTP BABY! I'm going insane.

Anyways I've thoroughly enjoyed writing this and reading your guys' reviews makes my heart swell with happiness. I love you guys so so so much. Words cannot describe. I hope you guys enjoyed this part and I hope I did you all proud. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone. I apologize if they offend anyone!

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SO MUCH FEELS FOR YOU GUYS!

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