"It looked bad." - Greg Lestrade x Reader - Maybe Greg saying it to reader after something?
Silence seemed to fill the room, like a bubble it expanded, stealing the air and everything else with it.
When you'd agreed to help Sherlock you hadn't thought it would be, like that. All he'd said he needed was someone who fitted the recent victim profile, and you had, down to the odd shaped scar at your elbow and the mole on your thigh. Laying the bait was fun, you'd gotten swept up in the romance and thrill of pretending to be someone else. The thrill of helping to catch a killer.
Greg would never have agreed to it.
You'd known that. Which is why you hadn't told him and which was why you imagined Sherlock hadn't discussed it with him and why afterwards Sherlock had laid the blame at your feet for not telling him. It was why now, in the quiet of the office, you could hear John down the corridor shouting at Sherlock about putting other people in danger.
It had meant to end with one of two things. Either a confession or the killer accidentally revealing a cache of trophies. Hard evidence that would add to everything Sherlock already had.
It wasn't supposed to have ended with you being dangled over a crumbling bridge, before almost drowning in the freezing waters of an English river. They had the right idea about witches. That's what the young man had said to you as he tightened the ropes around the chair you were bound too.
"It looked bad." Greg broke the silence and you were pulled from the memory of river water rushing around your head. His eyes were on your hand and you noticed that it was trembling. You clenched your fist hard to hide it.
It looked bad because it was bad. You could have died. You could see Greg wrestling with emotion. Not quite knowing how to put into words the similar weight you were feeling in your chest. You could have died.
"Hey," You said rising from your seat, tugging the blanket around yourself and the oversized clothes donated from forces lost property. You sat down next to him taking his hand. "It was bad, I didn't expect-" You paused and swallowed, looking away from him as shame welled a little inside you.
"I'm okay. I promise. Just shaky, I'm sorry."
Greg gritted his teeth and you could tell he'd just stopped himself from telling you that you didn't have to apologise. He was also clearly stopping himself from saying he told you so.
"I-" Greg started and stopped. "You could have died." He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him. "You could have bloody died." He said pressing a hard kiss to your temple.
