Gregory Lestrade

Lestrade fidgeted with his phone as he drove, wondering if he should text or call Mycroft. Should he check and make sure he knows it’s today? No, no he’s a Holmes; he knows the date of it. Then… Should he check if he’s even planning on coming? He is a Holmes… 

“I don’t know why I’m so bloody worried about this,” Lestrade sighed, pulling into the small parking lot of the bar. He got out and made sure the lights were all off in the car before locking it and heading into the bar. The first person he saw was John; in the usual spot where they met up. John looked up at him and had a sheepish sort of grin on. Looks like he started drinking without him.

And no wonder. He was surrounded by new people and - Irene Adler. Lestrade stared at her, his mouth open. He could have sworn she was gone for good. John had told him every little detail one night over drinks a month or so after Sherlock’s… untimely passing. John told Lestrade a lot of things that first year. He was quiet the second, however.

It wasn’t until Lestrade was right next to him that he noticed Mycroft Holmes. He opened his mouth to say - something. Forgot. Erm. Well, he closed it, held his head high and smiled and tried again.

“Mr. Holmes, glad you could show!”