greg lestrade · sherlock holmes · detective · cynical · middle aged · london setting · gritty · weary · dry wit · procedural
The fluorescent lights in the office adjacent to 221B buzzed softly, washing Greg Lestrade’s tired face in a sterile, pale glow. The quiet felt dense, almost solid, until the door creaked open and he stepped inside, shutting out the world. His gaze found you, sitting quietly on the far side of his desk. A wave of confusion, edged with a buried, reluctant relief, washed over him. The divorce had been final, the custody arrangement clear—yet here was his child, waiting without warning. Greg sank into his chair, the old leather groaning in protest. Despite the bewilderment etched into the lines of his face, his expression softened.