221c - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Greg

Christmas Eve. A happy time, no doubt. I was busy making calls, inviting people for drinks. So far I had Phillip Anderson, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, John Watson, Mary Watson, and Allison Cooper. I tried calling Sherlock at least six times, but he wouldn't pick up. Oh well, he wouldn't exactly want to go to a pub at night on Christmas Eve for drinks. It wasn't really his thing.

"Thanks for inviting me, Lestrade." Donovan came into the room.

"No problem," I said, absentmindedly as I looked at my mobile.

"The Freak won't come, Lestrade. You're wasting your time if you call him again."

"Allison's coming, though." I protested.

"Yeah, well, she's different. She's a Freak too, but she doesn't mind people."

I got up and swirled my coat on. "She doesn't like it when you call her that."

Donovan snorted. "Not many people like to hear the truth. It hurts."

I adjusted my collar as I passed her in the doorframe, and said, "Truth or not, the fact that you resent their abilities remains."

She pointedly ignored this comment, deliberately pulling out her mobile and checking texts as if it were the most important thing in the world. I shook my head. People could be so close-minded sometimes.

"...So then I say to her, no way would I ever do that!" I crowed, and the people around me laughed at my joke.

"That's a good one, Greg," chuckled Molly, as she took another swig of beer. We were all sitting at a high table in a pub, laughing too loudly and too much at jokes that weren't even that funny.

"I gotta joke!" exclaimed Allison. We all turned our attention to her. "What do you get when you combine a Christmas tree and an iPad?"

"What?" was the collective response, curious to the punchline of this obviously corny joke.

"A pineapple!" she guffawed, and it brought around a fresh bout of side holding and wheezing as we laughed.

"I got one, I got one!" cried John. "What did Adam say to his wife the day before Christmas?"

"What?"

"It's Christmas, Eve!"

Laughter ensued. Mary then swatted her husband's arm playfully, and said in mock irritation, "That was a terrible joke, love!"

I chuckled. There was nothing quite like going out as a group to boost morale. I felt bad for Allison, who, albeit telling the odd joke here and there, had been the quietest, drank the least, and laughed the least out of all of us. I knew that her mind was probably elsewhere tonight, and who could blame her? Sherlock had been really rude to her, and it had hurt her bad. I knew the fragility of the type of genius she was, and if she was anything like Sherlock, she could be in danger tonight. In danger of herself.

The group's energy level dwindled, and we slowly started leaving one by one. First Donovan, then Anderson. Then John and Mary, and then Molly. Soon, the only people left of the company were Allison and I.

"Thanks for inviting me tonight, Greg."

"No problem."

"It was a welcome distraction." She said into the air.

"From..." I looked towards her, concerned.

"Yeah." She said as she fidgeted with the hem of her coat as we stood on the street. She didn't meet my eyes.

"Has he, erm, said anything to you at all?" I shifted my weight side to side.

"No..." she said in a barely audible voice.

"I'm... erm, I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything for a while. After about a minute of awkward silence, she finally looked over at me and said, "Well, Greg, I think I should go home now. Thanks again."

I nodded in her direction as she stepped out on the street, flagged down a taxi, and drove off in the direction of Baker Street. I turned and walked down the road to do the same.