Rocky Road

Chapter 10

When they had come home from the party late last night they both really wanted each other. Greg quickly saw the boys to bed while Molly went into Greg's bedroom.
When Greg came in she was already lying on his bed only wearing her bra and a string. He transferred himself onto the bed and began to undress. His shirt flew off quickly but he struggled with his pants. Greg was starting to get annoyed when Molly put a hand on his chest softly pushing him down.
“Here, let me do it,” she said and gently pulled down his pants. Moving up again she began kissing Greg's stomach, working her way up past the chest until she had reached Greg's lips. He moved his head up a bit and they shared a long passionate kiss. Molly could feel Greg's hands on her back, searching for her bra fastener. It didn't took him long to open it. Molly smiled at him. “Quite experienced, eh?”
Greg grinned pulling down the straps from Molly's shoulders and removing the bra. He exhaled deeply., his hands gently massaging Molly's breasts. Molly threw her head back and moved her right hand into his crotch but was quickly stopped by Greg who pulled it back upwards.
“Sorry. Pointless, still no feeling there,” he whispered apologetically.
“Don't be. I'm so sorry. Force of habit, I guess.” Molly answered, feeling bad that she had forced him to bring that topic up.
“It's Ok.”
Awkwardly they just lay there for a couple of seconds until Greg pushed himself up and whispered in Molly's ear: “But what about showing you what I'm capable of with my tongue?”
It had been some hassle to find a comfortable position for both of them without Greg having to move around the bed too much but after they had found it it didn't took Greg long to start Molly make groan and moan out of pleasure. She grabbed his hair and pushed her hips upwards.
“God, that was just amazing, your are unbelievably good. Dear God,” she stammered after she came, catching her breath.
Greg moved himself up the bed and collapsed next to Molly. “I'm so happy right now,” he whispered while he gently stroke her face.
“So am I.”


Molly opened her eyes and involuntarily blinked as she was momentarily blinded by the sun. She turned her head and looked over to Greg who was still sound asleep, lying on his stomach, arms spread wide. He was only wearing boxer shorts which were partly obscured by the blanked. Molly smiled and propped herself up an elbow while the fingers of her other hand gently stroke Greg on the back of his neck. Greg let out a pleasured moan but didn't fully wake up. She slowly made her way down carefully avoiding the bandages on the exit wounds and on the incision of his spinal cord surgery. She stopped shortly behind where the incision began knowing that Greg wouldn't feel much further down. “'T’s nice,” Lestrade mumbled into his pillow.
Molly leaned forward and kissed him between his shoulder blades. Slowly Greg turned his head towards Molly. He looked at her with sleepy eyes, spotting an happy smile.
“Doesn't it hurt sleeping on your stomach?” Molly asked.
“It does, not as bad as one would think, though. But I sit on my arse the whole day so I don't want to lie on it when I'm sleeping. Plus I've always preferred sleeping on my stomach. So as soon as I was able to do it without being in too much pain I went for it.”
They were sharing an other long and passionate kiss when suddenly someone knocked on the door.
“Daaaad? Where are the...? James asked, knocking again.
“Leave them alone” Oliver interrupted him, “they are probably...”
“Eww!” Oliver must have made an explicit movement. “That's just gross.”
Greg could hear James and Oliver leaving. He looked at Molly and started to laugh. Pushing himself up he said “I think it's time to get up.” Greg grimaced when a sudden pain flared through his body. He lied back down again taking a couple of deep breaths.
“You Ok?” Molly looked at him concerned.
“Yeah, yeah, 'm fine,” Greg replied breathing through the pain. “Probably was just a little bit too much yesterday. Just give me a couple of minutes.”
“Do you need your pain meds?”
“Nah, 'm good. Will be over soon.” He managed a strained smile. Something didn't felt right but he didn't want to worry Molly and his sons. He would get it checked out when he was back at rehab. Molly got up, dressed herself and threw his sweatpants on the bed so that he could reach it easily.
“I'll be at the kitchen getting breakfast ready. Come over whenever you feel ready.”

He allowed himself a couple of minutes listening to Molly clattering around. “Do you want a cup of tea?” Molly asked from the kitchen.
“Yes, thanks. I'll be there in a minute.” Greg shouted back. The pain had gotten less so he dared another try in getting up. But as soon as he had raised his chest a couple of inches it got worse again. Greg fought through the pain and was finally able to sit up. He noticed that it was harder to breath and that it hurt every time he took a breath. Ignoring this he put on his pants and moved himself towards the edge of the bed and into his wheelchair. The pain only got worse as soon as he was sitting in his chair. He needed some painkillers soon, Greg decided. He grabbed a T-Shirt from his wardrobe and made his way towards the bathroom where his medication was at.
“Morning,” Oliver greeted him coming out of his room trying his best to not look at his father's bandaged torso. “You're alright? You look a bit pale.”
“Morning, Oliver. No, it's all good. Probably just a little hangover from last night.” Greg forced a smile and quickly entered the bathroom. He locked the door and with shaking hands he opened the box that contained his medicine. He took two pills at once, hoping that it will kill the pain quickly.

Slowly the pain was dulled. Lestrade put on his shirt and made his way to the kitchen. He still had some trouble breathing but at least he wasn't in that much pain anymore. “Great,” he thought. “One day tasting the normal life and you feel like shit.” In hindsight he maybe shouldn't have had the shots with Peter. His body was still weaken and in combination with his medication couldn't handle alcohol as good as before. Greg had felt sick shortly afterwards and had to throw up on the toilet. That probably hadn't done any good.

Molly and his sons where sitting at the kitchen table. “Hey,” Greg greeted them.
Molly handed him his tea, “feeling better?”
“Yeah, all good now,” Greg lied. “So what's the plan today?”
“Our train leaves in a couple of hours, so you maybe could see us off at the station?” James asked.
Greg hesitated a moment. He didn't really felt up to a trip halfway through London but he also didn't want to disappoint his sons. He wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. “Yes, of course. Maybe we can stop somewhere and grab something for lunch.”


They had just finished their lunch when Greg received a text from Sherlock demanding to see him as soon as possible. Greg groaned. The tube ride had been horrible and hadn't really helped with the pain and his breathing. He never had actually noticed before but the tube was not easy to use when you are in a wheelchair. It was crowded as always and no one was particular happy to have to squeeze even more to make room for Greg, so understandingly he was in no mood for Sherlock.
Non the less he texted back: “Sons leaving in half an hour. Get a cab and pick me up at King's Cross.”

40 Minutes later Greg was sitting outside the station waiting for Sherlock to arrive. The farewell had been quick but emotional and his sons promised to see him again as soon as possible. “Take care of yourself Dad,” Oliver had said and when Greg wasn't able to suppress a hiss during the following hug he whispered so that only Greg could hear it “and get whatever is bothering you since this morning checked out by a doctor, Ok?”
Greg was brought out of his thoughts by a well known figure in a long coat exiting a taxi in front of him.
“Get in Lestrade.”
“Nice to see you too, Sherlock,” he grumbled wheeling towards the taxi.
Moving from the wheelchair into the car took a ridiculous amount of strength and had left Greg out of breath. Sherlock looked at him suspiciously but didn't say anything. Instead he leaned over to the driver and gave him the destination. “221b Baker Street, please.”
“Wait a second Sherlock. I'm not going to Baker Street.” Sherlock looked puzzled. “Firstly I have no clue on how you are planning to get me up those stairs, and no I won't sit in Mrs. Hudson's kitchen and secondly I have no ambition to pay a bloody fortune to get a cab back home.”
“Right, yes of course.”
Greg gave the driver his address and leaned back, breathing through the pain which appeared to be getting worse again.
“Ok, now please tell me what you and Donovan were talking about last night?” Greg asked after he finally had at least his breathing under control.
“Ah, that. Nothing of importance.”
“Sherlock, I'm not stupid.” Seeing Sherlock's look he sharply added: “No, I am not. I know that you two are up to something. Normally you are only exchanging insults, so what is it Sherlock?”
Sherlock hesitated for a moment before he replied. “Never mind that, not of importance right now. What I want to talk to you about is Dimmock. He's a pain in the arse, not letting me on his cases. Could you...”
“SHERLOCK!” Greg suddenly shouted. He was really going to lose his temper. “I'm not going to be your bloody middleman between you and Dimmock. I really have other problems right now rather than to bloody care about you getting cases. It's Dimmock's division right now and I am not going to tell him how to do his work.” He leaned back suddenly feeling utterly tired and out of breath. He closed his eyes and took some careful breaths. He didn't noticed the cabby slightly turning around trying to figure out what these two men in the back were fighting about and he didn't noticed Sherlock looking at him through narrowed eyes.
With his eyes still closed he cleared his throat, “look Sherlock, if that's the only thing you wanted to talk to me about I'm going to stop this cab and leave. I thought you wanted to tell me something about McNish, but this obviously isn't the case.” He leaned forward to tell the cabby to stop at the next possibility when Sherlock intervened.
“Now you are just acting stupid, Lestrade.”
Greg let out a bitter sob, “Sherlock, please. Now is really not the time to insult me. If there is no evidence to place McNish with the shooting, it's fine. I'll live. Just tell me Ok? It's been over 5 month since the shooting now, Sherlock. 4 weeks since I gave you a name. If you weren't able to find anything during that time, I'm pretty sure nobody will.”

Sherlock looked at Lestrade. He took in his features, the sunken eyes, the ashen face. The strained rise and fall of his chest, the way the DI held his upper body. Was this all only because of the argument they had? No, Sherlock decided. There was something else wrong with the Detective Inspector. He needed to get him home as soon as possible and preferably get him to see a doctor.
“Lestrade, listen. What about we get you home and I tell you everything I found out so far and together we decide if it's worth further investigating. And to answer your question from earlier – Donovan and I were discussion that same matter.” It was only a small lie. In fact they had discussed when they should remove McNish from that government facility and let Lestrade know that he is in custody.
Greg nodded. “Sounds fine to me.” The rest of the way they rode in silence.


“Everything Ok, Lestrade?” Sherlock asked now truly concerned when he noticed the pale face and the laboured breathing of the DI getting worse after they had entered his flat. He had been barely able to manoeuvre his wheelchair towards his living room.
“Yes, only a bit dizzy. Probably just need a glass of water.” Greg vaguely noticed Sherlock leaving, the pain in his chest and abdomen was now unbearable and he was fighting to get enough oxygen into his lungs. The darkness around the edge of his vision was creeping closer.

When Sherlock came back from the kitchen he suddenly found Greg slumped forward in his chair. He dropped the glass and quickly sprinted towards him.
“Lestrade?”
Greg could feel long cold fingers touching him, moving him so that he was sitting upright again. He tried to push through the wall of blackness that had engulfed him. His eyes fluttered.
“Answer me Greg!”
“Mmm?” That made him cough which sparked a whole new level of pain. He felt something wet on his lips.
“Molly, call an Ambulance! Now!” Molly was standing behind Sherlock, tears streaming down her face. It took her a couple of seconds until she sprung into action.
“No...'mfine.”It was hardly audible.
“Don't be stupid, Greg. You're obviously not fine, if that's what you were trying to say.”
Greg opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock or at least tried to. ”Greg? Though' udunno 'm name. Tha'bad?” he slurred.
“Yes, that bad. You should've gone to a doctor, you stupid idiot. I'm going to lie you down, Ok?”
“'sssok”
Gently Sherlock moved Greg out of his wheelchair, cursing himself when Greg let out a painful groan and laid him onto the couch, his upper body supported by pillows to ease his breathing. Greg closed his eyes but instantly felt someone gently slapping his face.
“Oh no, you are not going to pass out on us, Detective Inspector. Stay awake and keep breathing.”
“'s hurss.”
“I know, but fight through it. The ambulance will be here soon.” Sherlock looked over to Molly who nodded confirmedly. Greg stretched out his arm, trying to reach Molly. “'msssryy”
She stepped over and took his hand between hers. “Don't worry Greg.” She knelt next to him and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Try not to talk and concentrate on breathing, Ok?” Greg nodded.

He must have passed out because suddenly strange face was in his line of vision. Puzzled he searched for Molly who had been asked to stand back while the paramedics were working on him.
“It's Ok, Greg. Let them do their work,” she smiled through tears in his direction. Someone was placing something on his face. Greg tried to wipe it away but was stopped by a man who explained that it was a mask that would help him breathe. Greg nodded and relaxed a bit when the drugs he had been given a couple of moments before began to work. He heard Molly explaining his previous injuries to the other medic and that he had spoken about being in pain this morning and that it took him a long time until he was finally able to get up.
Greg tried to deny that it had taken him -a long time- to get up but his words were lost under the CPAP mask.
“It looks like you might have re-injured something in your abdomen and one or both of your lungs,” the first medic explained. Greg groaned.
“Did you take any pain medication this morning or throughout the day?” The second medic asked.
“'mrng” Greg said muffled.
“Ok, and how many? Just show me with your fingers.”
Greg stretched two of his fingers on his right hand.
“And how would you describe the level of pain your in right now from 0 to 10 with 0 being in no pain at all?”
Greg hesitated shortly and then showed a 6 with his fingers.
“I would add one or two. Knowing our Detective Inspector he's probably trying do downplay his pain level,” Sherlock offered. Greg groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Ah, a copper. I see. So, is it more like a 8 or even a 9 then?”
“eigh'” Greg slurred defeated.
“See, wasn't that bad, was it?”
Greg shook his head.
The medic smiled, “and now we can finally give you some of the good stuff that'll help with the pain.”
While preparing the syringe with the painkiller the medic asked Greg if something had happened that might had caused his re-injury.
“thr'up.” Molly and Sherlock looked at each other.
“You threw up?”
Greg nodded.
“Concerning your previous abdominal injuries, is there anything we should know about? Problems with digesting food?”
Shaking his head Greg replied, “no, 'sallgood, mssstly. Think'twas th'alcohol.”
The paramedic looked over to Molly and Sherlock. “Did he had any alcohol?” he asked sharply.
Molly turned red and stammered, “yes, last night. But only two pints. Didn't see him drinking anything else. Told him to take it easy. Said one is enough but it was his birthday and...I don't know. I'm so sorry.” Tears were falling down her cheeks.
Sherlock looked over to Molly and shook his head. “Must have been more if he said that he had to puke.” The paramedic laid a hand on Molly's shoulder.
“no'herfaul'. Had shotsswithm'mate. 'ssupid. I'now.” All that talking resulted in a coughing fit.
“Yes it was. And now we get you to the hospital to repair the damage.”

Greg was lifted from the couch to the stretcher and wheeled down the corridor towards the lift. He hoped that none of his neighbours would come out to see what the fuzz was all about.
They reached the street and the medics loaded him into the ambulance. Molly exchanged a quick word with Sherlock and then climbed into the back.
During the ride Greg slipped in and out of consciousness, Molly never letting go of his hand.


Greg closed his eyes trying to avoid the blinding lights moving past his head. He was wheeled through a hospital corridor, he noticed. Turning his head he saw Molly walking by his side, holding his hand and he clutched it like a lifeline. A door opened at his feet and he heard a voice saying, ”I'm sorry, Miss. But you can't come any further. Please have a seat in the waiting area. We'll let you know as soon as you can see him.”
“No,” Greg mumbled under is mask, shaking his head. He was utterly afraid and in pain. He didn't want to be alone. He lifted his head and pleadingly looked over to Molly.
She looked down on him, her eyes mirroring his own fear. “Sorry, I can't come with you. The doctors need to check on you. But I'll be there as soon as they have you sorted out, I promise."
Greg could feel the darkness claiming him once more. “plsss? 'mfraid.” But before Molly could answer Greg had lost the fight for consciousness again.


Greg woke up hearing the dreaded background noises of a hospital. The sun was shining through a window on the other side of the room. Something obscured half his face, pushing air into his lungs. For a few seconds he thought that he was on a ventilator again until he recognized that it only was a mask.
He slowly turned his head awaiting Molly sitting by his site only to find the chair empty. He closed his eyes, letting sleep claim him again.


When he woke up again his room was dark. A loud snoring came from the bed next to Greg's. It took him a couple of confusing minutes to figure out where he was. Then it came crashing down, him collapsing in his living room, the ambulance, Molly crying, him being wheeled off. Greg's breathing quickened. He began to panic. Again it felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen. An alarm sound went of on a monitor and a few minutes later a nurse appeared calming Greg down.
“Everything is fine, Mr. Lestrade. The mask will provide you with enough oxygen. Nothing to worry about right now, just try to go back to sleep.” His eyes fell shut shortly after the nurse gave him a mild sedative through his IV.


The next thing that woke him was someone holding his hand. This and pain. Greg groaned and opened his eyes seeing Molly sitting by his bed reading a book.
He wanted to say -Hi- but it only came out as a whimper.
She quickly closed the book and leaned over him. “Hey, nice to see you awake again,” she smiled.
Greg moved his head from side to side letting out an other groan.
“I'll let the nurse know that you are awake.” Molly said, pushing the call button.
Greg looked around and noticed the second bed with a man in his 20s lying in it watching something on his laptop. “No special treatment this time then,” he thought to himself. And as if Molly could read his thoughts she explained, “since it was completely your fault this time, Sherlock didn't see the necessity to treat you with a single room.”
This caused an other groan from Greg. “ 's not fair,” he muttered under the breathing mask.
“It is. You scared us as hell. Don't you dare to do something that stupid again.” Molly wiped away a tear. “Well at least he did ask Mycroft to make sure your rehab spot isn't given away.”
Greg was saved by the nurse who just entered the room. “Good morning, Mr. Lestrade. I don't know if you remember but we had the pleasure last night when you briefly woke up.”
Greg slowly shook his head, “no...sorry.”
“No problem, now let me see. Your signs are looking good so far.” The nurse send an encouraging smile towards Greg and Molly. “No Mr. Lestrade, the mask has to stay on for a couple of days I'm afraid,” she quickly added upon noticing Greg's intention to pull it of. “The doctor will be here soon to talk to you about your condition. Are you in any pain right now?”
Greg nodded and the nurse explained the self administering button on the site of his bed to him. “I'll push it now for you, the next time you feel any pain, just push it again and you'll be given the right dose.”
Greg noticeably relaxed as soon as the medication was administered through his IV. He smiled at the nurse,”thanksss.”
“You're welcome,” she smiled back.

A couple of minutes later the doctor arrived. She was a young woman around the 30s probably just finished with her studies. Greg decided that he liked her.
“Hi I'm Catherine Haley Your doctor during your stay here.” She introduced herself. “Ok, Mister Lestrade. You did quite a number on your first day out.”
“Jus'callme Greg,”
“Alright, Greg. You really have to take it slow from now on. You seriously re-injured your intestines and your lungs as well as some muscles in your chest. Are you sleeping on your chest by any change?”
He nodded. Greg could feel his brain going mushy. God, he hated it to be under the influence of heavy painkillers.
“You've gotta stop that until you are fully pain free, understand?”
Dutifully Greg nodded again.
“Now please remove the blanked so that I can check your chest.”
”Why does she want to see my chest,” Greg wondered.”Is she flirting?” “psss, 'mgrlfriend 's'ere,” he said slowly nodding towards Molly.
Both women exchanged amused looks.
“Greg, I'm not flirting with you, this is purely professional, so would you...”
“'mno'Greg. 'sss SssilverFoox. Comesssfro'ICU. evryone's callin'methat,” Greg interrupted giving her a groggily smile.
Molly was hardly able to suppess a laughter.
“What the hell is he on about?” Catherine Haley asked her while she removed the blanked.
“I have no clue, but I'm desperate to find out.”
“hadno' workout. Sry. 'snormly trained. No lied. 'mlazy. Dontrain. Mstly deskwor'now. Sosssory.” Greg was now apologizing for his untrained body.
Molly couldn't hold it back anymore and started to laugh. “God, I'm an awful, laughing at my heavily drugged partner.”
“No, it's pretty normal. And he really is kinda funny. Is he always like that when he's on heavy painkillers?”
“Unfortunately I don't know. The last time he was on them he was intubated so he wasn't able to talk.”
“Ah, what a pity.”

“sswha'sthe verdic'?” Greg asked after Doctor Haley had finished controlling his chest.
“You've gotta stay here for at least a week until we are sure that your lungs are back to were they were before that incident and that the injury to your intestine is healed nicely. We don't want you moving around much during that time. Took us quite an effort to stitch you up again.”
“'sOk. Won'tryt'move. Haven'tsin'youcame, have I? 'nd did no'tryin' lyin'onchest too, juslike yousaid.” He looked at both of them rather pleased with himself.
“Yes, well done Greg. Keep that up the next days and you'll be discharged in no time,” Dr. Haley said patting Greg's shoulder. “And let me know what he means with silver fox,” she said to Molly before she left the room.

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