Chapter 52 Chairs

Sherlock happily pulled Caleb to his feet, producing handcuffs seemingly out of thin air. "Alright! Put the guns down! Everythings fine, leave it to me to catch the killer for you. What next would you like me to help you with? Tie your bloody shoes you incompetents!"

Sherlock growled over his shoulder, tightening the metal cuffs around the escaped Alpha's bruised wrists. Caleb only grinned at John who was leaning into his hospital room door. "Well Doctor Watson off I go."

"Don't hurt him." John started forward but several nurses and a doctor were crowding him, Sherlock was pulling John's once bodyguard slash warden towards a group of agents.

"Take him away and this time throw away the key! My brother really needs to get better security."

No one heard the Alpha whisper to the prisoner nor did they catch the cuffed man's quick grin.


Days later John was sitting and visiting with Quinton Hill. Toby was firmly at the healing young Alpha's side. The Omega doctor noted the bags that were leaving Toby's eyes but there was something darkening Toby's once bright eyes. The damage was done. The young Omega would always carry that fear of loss. However, Quinton would make a full recovery. The young man had lost a lot of blood and there had been internal bleeding but nothing vital or paralyzing had been hit. Unlike John, there wasn't much tissue or nerve damage.

"My brother is a giant IDIOT!" Quinton huffed refusing the spoon of mush his Omega was attempting to coax him into eating.

"I'm sure he thought he was doing the right thing. Don't get riled Quin." Toby hushed his mate his tone subdued. John hated to see his young friend still weak from his shock, however the baby was growing and everyday that Quinton grew stronger the baby's heartbeat did as well.

"I don't care what he thought, the man's an idiot and I refuse to acknowledge him."

John rolled his eyes, "The funeral for Grandmere will be in a few days. The Doctors say you are allowed to attend."

"Yeah, in a wheelchair." Quint sneered.

"Better than joining her in the ground." Toby choked. "Just be happy you-you are alive." The blond Omega snapped, his eyes wide and red rimmed.

"Toby?" John reached for the young man standing in a pair of blue comfortable hospital bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. The boy's hair was wild and he his bare feet were tapping against the cool tile floor of the room.

"No. Don't don't tell me to calm down. He almost lost his life."

"Toby. Come here." Quin ordered arms out, the blond Omega didn't move at first, only keeping his back turned to the Alpha and John. "Tobius."


"I'll eat this mush if you just come feed me." Quinn sighed. "If you don't I guess I'll just starve

John could see the two needed some peace and quietly left the room. He had his own Alpha to think about. Sherlock had been following him around like a kicked puppy and John couldn't stand it.

He found his Alpha waiting for him outside Quinton's room. "Bad news." Sherlock sighed, hands in his pockets, he balanced himself on the balls of his feet.

"Oh god. Great. What next?" John didn't think he could take very much at this point.

"Caleb unfortunately managed to elude my brother's men. He somehow managed to unlock his handcuffs and steal a car. Quite the resourceful man if you ask me. Shame he's a criminal. He could have been useful."

John couldn't help but crack a grin. He tackled the taller man pushing him up against a supply closets door. Lips crushing the surprised Alpha's mouth. "You are a bloody genius. And I love you." John panted pulling back, still sore from his injuries he winced pulling away. His Alpha wrapped a protective arm around the Omega's waist.

"John. I love you." The Alpha nosed the top of the Omega's blond head. "I love you John. I don't care how pitiful and pathetic I sound. I love you. And I want you near me always, not behind me. Well, maybe we can try that. That's another topic, I need you and not just under me or ontop of me, but beside me. Does that make sense? I feel like a jabbering fool but I need you to know-"

The Omega tilted his head back, blue eyes studying the taller man's. "I fucking love you. Shut up before you make me cry."

Sherlock's slow grin creased his cupid's bow lips. "Have I ever told you how delicious you are when you become commanding?"

"Good. Take your pants off." John's hands were amazingly steady as he unzipped the Alpha's expensive trousers.


John lounged happily in his comfortable chair. Six months, almost seven had flown by, and the criminal Moriarty had yet to surface. John was no fool. He anticipated something from Moriarty, although Mycroft was doing his damndest to keep the fact that Moran was still alive a secret. The Alpha had yet to break. That's all the information Sherlock would relay to John. The Omega shivered thinking what tactics Mycroft's people were using to coerce the tiny bits of information from the stubborn Alpha.

Lestrade didn't speak about his time under Moriarty's thumb but John knew there was more to the story than Sherlock and Mycroft were reporting. The Omega hated to see his friend in such a state of depression. The Alpha didn't speak to anyone. There was some kind of distance between Mycroft and the DI.

Sherlock always changed that subject and John couldn't take Greg's change in mood. The man had lost weight, he didn't smile anymore and more than once John had caught the familiar scent of whiskey laced coffee on the DI's breath.

Just when the Omega had thought it was enough, Sherlock beat him to it.

"John, the DI wishes privacy then I shall respect-I need your help. I thought it would be something he could put behind him. However, I misjudged the willingness of my brother in this situation. I fear my friend is-I am worried that Lestrade-that Greg is-"

"Sherlock?" John put down his paper and approached his pacing Alpha. "Your friend is hurting and dammit he needs help. He can't go on like this. It's going to start affecting his job. I just don't understand what the hell is triggering this behavior? And he won't even say your brother's name. Did Mycroft do something, I mean-"

Sherlock looked pained and shook his head. He didn't like this conversation. It made him feel a pain in his stomach and chest. John was right but, Sherlock didn't know where to begin. He had to help the DI. It's what a friend would do. It's what Lestrade would do, but how? He sat down in his chair, head in hands. He felt responsible for this. If only Lestrade had never met him and fallen in love with Mycroft. Well, that mad man would have never targeted him.

"John, will you help me. I want to fix-" Sherlock shook his head, "I know thats the wrong word for it. Because this can not be fixed but I want to -"

"You want to help Greg. I understand Sherlock. You are a wonderful friend a good man. Of course, you wish to help your friend who is hurting. And I will help you. Although, I think you just talking to Greg about anything on a personal level might just help him. Listen, you don't have to tell me any details. I can, however, give you the name of a colleague of mine that works with Alphas suffering from PTSD."

Sherlock's gray eyes looked up at the blue of John's. The man was beautiful with his sympathetic expression, warm and inviting. Sherlock couldn't believe he was so lucky.


Greg Lestrade slumped down in the dark of his sitting room, a bottle of cheap whiskey in his hands. He didn't even bother with a glass, not that there were any clean ones around. The house was scattered with bottles and what little take away the distraught DI had managed to eat.

There was a knock on his door. He ignored it, however it came again more firmly. "Piss off! I'm off duty!"

He snapped, taking a swig of his bottle, he was already on bottle number two, and that thankful stupor was taking him over and dulling the world. He blinked, hearing the distant click of his door's lock opening.

He laughed to himself. Was he to be murdered now in his chair? Well let them have this empty shell.

Except that wasn't what came next. Instead, he blinked, feeling nothing and allowing the haze of sleep to take him.

How long he was allowed to rest he would never know, because it felt as if seconds later he was awakened by the shock of cold water hitting his naked body.

At first he tried to strike out but his limbs felt heavy and weak, and damn if the room wasn't spinning.

"This is a turnaround. I seem to remember the situations being reversed." A familiar deep voice cut through his mounting fear.


"You were hoping for Mycroft?" Sherlock regretted his words almost immediately after they left his mouth. Especially when the DI lowered his head and tried to pull away from Sherlock's steadying hands.

"Greg-" Sherlock tried to begin again however the gray haired Alpha cut him off with a snarl.

"Piss off! I don't know what you think you're doing but it's fucking unwanted."

John had warned him that Greg would use anger to cover up his emotional pain. He took a deep breath and tried to put words to how he felt.

"DI Lestrade, you can not continue like this. It is starting to bleed over into your work. If you continue down this self destructive-"

"Are you lecturing me?" Lestrade shivered leaning into the cold tile, allowing the freezing water to continue washing over him.

"Yes." Sherlock continued to hold his friend under the cold shower's stream.

"Oh, so you've suddenly grown a heart? Seriously what's in it for you?"

"I do have a heart. I've been reliably informed that it beats here in my chest. Now, do you need help washing the stench of cheap liquor and unwashed-"

"Get off!" Lestrade pushed at the hands there were touching his naked flesh, unable to pull away he couldn't hold the panic or the nausea at bay.

Sherlock didn't know how to calm Lestrade. Perhapsit was a bad idea to be here. John would have been a better choice, Sherlock's presence was only causing his friend more distress. He almost lost his grip on the DI, only to be rewarded with the contents of Greg's stomach all over his shirt front.


Lestrade sat in his chair. A warm faded gray bathrobe, a cup of hot coffee in his hands and a smile on his face. Sherlock glared across from him, in a matching old brown armchair. He wore a gray shirt that said MET and a pair of Lestrade's gray sweats.

"I'm sorry. This is deja vu, however, it's normally me sitting glaring at you. "

"I don't think I've ever lost my stomach's contents on you." Sherlock huffed.

"Well, not that you would remember. You have. I had to give you CPR once and the reward for getting you to breathe was you being sick all over me."

"Well then, I guess we are even."

"Hardly." Lestrade sipped his coffee, frowning.

"I've arranged for John to bring us some take away."

"I'm not-"

"No. Judging from the mostly liquid stomach contents you so graciously emptied onto me, you have not had anything solid to eat in the past eight hours. So any objections will be ignored. From experience, having something in ones stomach makes the sobriety process easier to deal with."

"Sherlock why are you here? What do you want? If it's a case I've already pushed for the other DI's to work with you. My caseload-"

"Is being greatly affected and I wont allow it." Sherlock growled. "Now, we are going to talk. You and I. Or if you feel comfortable John has made an appointment with a very credible therapist."

Lestrade's eyes widened and panic started to coat the air. "No. Before you object, I did not disclose any details of your ordeal. I simply asked John for the name of a therapist that worked with Alphas that may have PTSD."

"Fuck right off-"

"Hear me out, Greg." Sherlock sat up straighter leaning forward. "You are my friend. I will not stand by and watch you continue on this path. This therapist is the best, John knows him and he's discreet. I've looked into the man's background. He's the best in his field. He normally works with military veterans but John has pulled a few strings. You will go. Even if I have to take you kicking and screaming."

Lestrade could read the resolution in his friend's eyes. When did that happen? When had Sherlock Holmes become his friend? This was a turn up. Hell could be freezing over. There was a sharp knock on the door and Sherlock was on his feet. "That's John with our food."

Lestrade smiled as the blond Omega shuffled in carrying bags of some great smelling food, "Mrs. Hudson's finest." John kissed his Alpha in greeting, scrunching his nose when he caught the scent of Greg's soap. His eyebrow raised, his Alpha sighed and John shared a silent conversation with his love.

"I was going to bring take away but Mrs. Hudson heard you were under the weather Greg and insisted I bring you a feast. I'll just set it here and bring you a bowl of homemade chicken soap with fresh rolls and some strong tea. You just sit."

"It's alright John I'll just straighten-" Lestrade winced realizing the state of his home.

"Nothing to be embarrassed of here Greg. Don't forget who I live with."

Greg sat back in his chair and laughed to himself. Sherlock was sitting with his hands folded under his chin observing the DI with an unsettling intensity.

John brought both Alphas something to eat and drink, cutting off any kind of objections from both men. "I want this gone. And then I'll bring you both a slice of Mrs. H's delicious apple pie."

Lestrade watched the Omega return to the kitchen. "Let him tidy up. If you get in his way it could be dangerous." Sherlock advised digging into his soup as John shot him a quick glance.

Lestrade smiled, once more resolving to do the same. After all, an unhappy John wasn't one he wanted to deal with.

For the next couple of weeks the dark haired Alpha had taken to sleeping on Greg's couch. "Don't you ever go home? I bet your Omega misses you."

"He does but he understands." Sherlock replied, continuing to dismantle Lestrade's only toaster for some unknown reason. It was only a week later when Sherlock started storing body parts in Lestrade's fridge that he decided It was time to finally agreed to see the therapist just to get the unwanted houseguest off his couch.

After the first session Lestrade had gone straight to the pub. He had ordered a double only to be met by a very smug Sherlock Holmes.

"How about some water." The familiar baritone placed a water bottle in front of an irritated DI.

"What do you want? A biscuit for guessing this is where I would be. And what the hell are you even doing behind the bar? You're not supposed to be there. I should have you arrested for impersonating a bartender or serving without a license." Lestrade grumbled vacating the bar stool heading for the door. The annoying consulting detective had been behind the bar serving patrons NO LESS! Sherlock only jumped over the side and followed his friend out.

"You're enjoying this aren't you. Smug bastard." Lestrade shoved his shaking hands into his pockets.

Neither were able to reply. "Most likely. You know how much he loves to be right. Don't you dear brother?"

Lestrade paled, refusing to turn around and meet the familiar voice's owner, Sherlock growled in response to his brother's unwanted presence.

"Oh, please brother not now. This doesn't concern you. I have to speak with the DI. And seeing how it is of a personal nature-"

"No." Sherlock stalked forward, he froze when his arm was caught by the DI..

"Let me talk to him, huh? You go home to your Omega. I'll be alright. Go on. I'll text you later."

Sherlock sighed, his eyes narrowing on his older brother. "I wont be far." The younger Alpha stepped aside and with a whirl of his coat dramatically disappeared into the dark of the night.

"Now that your self appointed babysitter has gone, how about dinner." Right on cue a black car rolled up.

"I don't have the energy to refuse." Lestrade felt truly defeated after unleashing his pent up anger and feelings of helplessness. The therapist to his credit had simply listened, and now Lestrade felt for the most part empty.

"That's better than a no." Mycroft opened the door and allowed the DI to slide into the back seat first reminded of another time they had shared the back seat of the government vehicle.

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