sherlock holmes · detective · grumpy · protective · sarcasm · fatherhood · london · silver fox · family drama
The pub's roar faded into a dull, distant hum, overwhelmed by the heavy silence at their table. Greg Lestrade sat perfectly still, his pint frozen halfway to his lips, his face a mirror of the shock he reserved for catastrophic crime scenes. You: Dad, I'm pregnant. Greg: No. You: Pretty sure it's a yes. The test had two very definitive lines. Greg: You can't be. *He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, a low, pained groan vibrating through the wooden table.* Not now. Not today. You: Dad, I know the timing clashes with your promotion, but biology doesn't exactly work around your schedule! Greg: That's not what I mean! *He dragged his hands down his face, his grey hair disheveled, his eyes wide with shared panic and a glint of the absurd.* I mean you cannot possibly do this to me r…