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Greg Lestrade stared at the papers on his desk. They had sat there for weeks, waiting. Janice had been leaving increasingly irritated messages on his voice mail. Just a few scribbles of his name and it would be done. Divorced.
He didn’t want to be divorced. He didn’t want to be another worn-down, middle-aged cop with a failed marriage. That wasn’t the future for himself he’d imagined. On the other hand, he didn’t want to stay married to someone he no longer respected, much less liked. He sighed and picked up his pen.
“Hey, boss.” Sgt. Donovan popped her head into Greg’s office. “There’s a body down in the Docklands.”
Greg dropped his pen and stood. “Right.” Grabbing his coat, he was out the door without a spare thought for the papers on his desk.
Hours later, tired, hungry, and in need a shower, Greg collapsed into his desk chair. The chair squeaked alarmingly at being used so abruptly. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to scrub out the fatigue.
“You need a hot meal and a long rest.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anytime soon,” Greg replied. He opened his eyes to see Mycroft Holmes standing in the doorway of his office. The man looked disgustingly well put together given the time of night.
Mycroft slipped inside and seated himself in the chair opposite Greg’s desk. “It might.”
“Oh? How is that?” Greg looked down at his desk and winced at the sight of the divorce papers. Pushing aside the regret and fear they caused, he met Mycroft’s cool, appraising gaze. His pain must have showed, since Mycroft quickly glanced away.
Mycroft slowly spun his umbrella on its tip. “What if I were to say you were no longer responsible for the Docklands’s case?”
Anger flared briefly in Greg’s chest, but it quickly died back. “Fuck off,” Greg muttered with resignation.
A small smile played at the corners of Mycroft’s mouth. “Now, now, Detective Inspector, you don’t really mean that.”
“No, I suppose not. Sorry, I’m…” Greg wasn’t sure what he was.
“Weary?”
“That’s a good word for it.” Weary was perfect, Greg thought. He was weary in heart, mind, and body.
“Come, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft stood and looked down his long nose at Greg. “Let me buy you dinner.”
Greg was surprised at the invitation. “Nah, I’ve got…” He gestured to the divorce papers on his desk.
“They can wait another night,” Mycroft replied gently. “They’ve waited this long.”
There was something about Mycroft’s tone that made Greg look up again. A kindness and quiet understanding was in Mycroft’s eyes. Greg realized his pain was seen and respected. Given the source, it was oddly comforting. He came to a decision.
“You know, it’s past time I signed these. Give me a minute, and I’ll have dinner with you.”
“Of course.” Mycroft settled back in the chair.
Greg picked up his pen and started to sign the documents. The ink refused to flow, and Greg grunted with frustration.
“Allow me.” Mycroft held out a beautiful metallic pen with a retro look.
“Ta.” Greg took the pen and signed his name with flourish. The vibrant blue ink stood out bold as you please on the black and white pages. He handed the pen back, but Mycroft declined.
“Keep it. A momento of your emancipation.”
Greg chuckled. “Thank you.” Greg pocketed the pen. He looked down at the divorce papers now signed and felt a lightness in his heart, like he’d been relieved of a burden. “I don’t know why I waited,” he murmured.
“You never know what the future holds,” Mycroft remarked. “Sometimes it’s an exciting thought, and other times it’s frightening.”
“I guess so.” Greg studied the pages. He felt remarkably at peace.
“Shall we celebrate, Detective Inspector?”
Greg looked up at Mycroft and smiled. “Only if you call me Greg. No more of this ‘Detective Inspector’ business.”
Mycroft inclined his head. “Of course, Gregory.”
Greg rolled his eyes. “You know, only my mother calls me ‘Gregory’.”
“Only my mother calls me ‘Mykie’,” Mycroft replied.
“Oh, is that an invitation?” Greg teased as he shrugged on his coat.
“Absolutely not. ‘Mycroft’ will do nicely.”
Greg laughed as they walked out of his office. He flicked off the lights, leaving behind a world of grief and walking towards an unknown, but bright, future.