Gregory Lestrade [COMPLETE!]

00I. full name Gregory Lestrade
0II. canon or original Sherlock Holmes, Arthur Conan Doyle
III. years of age 45 (birthday is December 22)
0IV. orientation Pansexual
00V. social status Middle Class
0VI. occupation Detective Inspector of NYPD

00I. play by Rupert Graves
0II. body type Lestrade is not fat or skinny, but well built. He’s very fit, and though he’s not the tallest of men, he does sit at a very comfortable height.
III. height 5'11"
0IV. eyes color Dark Brown
00V. description Lestrade is not fat or skinny, but well built. He’s very fit, and though he’s not the tallest of men, he does sit at a comfortable height. He has dark brown eyes that used to match his hair, which was long and also quite brown until his hair suddenly started to turn grey a few years ago. He keeps his hair and upkeep well and consistent; he’s known to mostly wear button downs with a nice jacket when he's at work, though when he's at home, he mostly just wears t-shirts. He wears thick horn-rimmed glasses for reading, or when it suits him to look professional. However no matter how well he tries to look, his face still appears a few good years older than he actually is, though he does look extremely kindly. He usually appears a tad bit nervous in public, but generally happy. Lestrade walks with an air that is official, but not overly so. He’s bold, but he’s also quiet.

00I. overall personalityLestrade a very good man. He’s not the most skilled with people, as far as social communication goes, but he isn't bad. He keeps himself protected, though not resistant against others; he won’t divulge in unnecessary details about himself, but will answer if asked. He will, however, divulge in cigarettes and vodka without being asked. He’s the type to make friends easily, but good friends, not so much. Those good friends, however, he trusts and relies on completely.

Lestrade is technically a genius, though he won't brag about it. He went through school with ease (he skipped two grades, landing him in the same year as his resentful older sister) and got into college at 17. When he was 12, he decided he wanted to be a detective Since then he has devoted his life towards that one goal. He is always focused on his work, which probably is a reason he's so smart, but he can become so focused he forgets about people, the main reason his marriage fell apart. His single-mindedness also contributed to his falling off a ship and breaking his leg during a case when he was younger. However he can be broken from his obsessive chain of though.

Lestrade, as aforementioned, is extremely kind to most people. However once he's become good friends with someone, he will take every chance to tease, embarrass, joke with and make sexual innuendos with them. In that way, he's a normal, fun man. His friends are known for confiscating his phone when they go out though, because as he will always say: "Duty calls," and rush out. Due to skipping grades in school, he's always been a bit shy, which is probably why his social skills aren't exactly as up to snuff as one might want. Because of this, he sometimes unintentionally flirts with people, not really noticing how bad what he's saying actually sounds until later. He's also never really kicked some more childish habits, like apologizing needlessly (and excessively) and not dealing very well with being wrong. He doesn't have a problem with gore - obviously, he's a police officer - but he doesn't much like the sight of his own blood.

He likes to draw, cook, he used to play clarinet, and enjoys taking walks and playing with numbers and patterns. He doesn't depend on numbers nearly as much as he used to, when he was in college and studied quantum physics, but he always finds things so much easier to understand when things are neat and laid out in formulas that don't change. He loves the solar system and knows a lot of facts about space; he's a bit of a nerd for shows like Doctor Who. He's also pansexual - he doesn't care what gender someone is, and he doesn't go looking for people, but if they're nice and they like him and he likes them, then he could fancy them (though he is a little more attracted to men than women, as of late).

He is a very traditional man; the flat he shared in San Francisco with his younger brother held very little of his own possessions. His room was his room; when he wasn't at work, he was there. Lestrade smokes like a chimney, but elegantly so, holding the cigarette in a dainty fashion. He had a record player in his room too; vinyl disks took up a large area of his book case, among countless tomes, mostly Shakespeare and encyclopedias. His sillier hobbies include cooking, playing clarinet when nobody's listening, getting revenge of people who don't work hard enough, and leaving money in public bathrooms for no reason (it makes him feel like he's being a good person, okay?). He's always been deathly afraid of riding aeroplanes, and has a soft spot for small furry animals.

0II. strengths Genius, compassionate, very devoted to his work, understanding, patient.
III. weaknesses Slightly obsessive compulsive, not very good at public speaking, single-minded, too devoted to his work, bit of a smoker and drinker.
0IV. goals To live another day. To be a good father to his child.

00I. notable family & friends
Mother: Audrey Lestrade nee Collins
Father: Oliver Lestrade
Lena Scott - His divorced wife who still lived in SanFran
Dolores Lestrade-Scott - Lestrade's 12-year-old daughter who lives with Lena
Mary Lestrade - One year older sister
Frank and Daniel Lestrade - Two-years-younger twin brothers
Elliot Lestrade - Very close younger brother
Rachael - Sister between he and Mary who died before birth
John McCourt - A member of the police and Lestrade's mentor as a teenager (deceased)
Becket - The first man who Lestrade slept with at sixteen who died of TB (deceased)
Sherlock Holmes - Lestrade's friend who annoys the heck out of him but he still loves
Peter Aramis - Even if Lestrade's not Peter's best friend, Peter's basically his (and coworker)
0II. overall history Lestrade was born into a normal family, upper middle class, in Dublin, Ireland. His father was from France, but Lestrade's accent has always been that of an Irish one. He has four siblings: a two-years older sister, Mary, one-year younger twin younger brothers, Frank and Daniel, and a three-years younger brother, Elliot. When he was about three to four years old, he suffered from and overcame acute lymphoblastic leukemia, which he can't really remember, except for few fleeting moments of pain. The cancer never came back, but it's probably the cause of his lifelong less-than-healthy constitution. He went to a (not very good) catholic school with his siblings. To this day, he does not believe in all of the Catholic traditions, but does have a strong sense of spirituality and goes to church on holidays. As a child, he was introverted, quiet; he wasn't unpopular and had a few very good friends, but he wasn't definitely wasn't popular.

His parents were kind to him, and they were a loving family most of the time, but his father's inability to keep sober and hold down a job for long periods of time effected his parents' relationship greatly; his mother cried often and his father, when drunk, yelled at her a lot. His father woke him up in the night sometimes to make him pray for him. Still, his mother raised her children well when she wasn't upset. She made them go to school every day and told them that she never went to college, so they had to. She didn't hide things from them; she made it very clear that if they didn't get good grades and a scholarship, then they were going to have to live here and work at the quarry for the rest of their life. That was enough to make sure most of the kids got at least acceptable grades at all times. Greg, on the other hand, didn't just get good grades: he got fantastic ones. He was a natural straight-A student and was placed in the same class as his older sister, who had repeated a grade (due to a large amount of absences when she had typhoid fever) and absolutely hated him for it. Greg preferred to keep to the library when he wasn't at school, so he didn't have to listen to his mother and father yelling about money and drinking, or have his sister there to tell him how much she hated him, and not have a bunch of younger children running around. The librarians became quite well acquainted with him as he read through the entire kids' section by the time he was in year four.

Lestrade spent his entire childhood in Dublin, never going farther than field trips with school. He was interested in seeing more of the world, but his parents didn't have money to spare on vacations for fun. To help with his family's financial standings, he took a job as the neighbourhood paper boy, among other odd jobs. He always kept a small amount of his pay for himself (unbeknownst to his parents). There was one police officer, John McCourt, who took he and his brother Elliot out for food when their wasn’t enough at the house, or let them sleep in his office when it got too loud at home. The boys were not followers of the law - they often skipped school and smoked and drank what they could get their hands on, and when they were hungry enough, stole bits of food and money off people walking down the street who didn't look to poor - McCourt was uncharacteristically gentle with them. They’d taken it for granted, even stolen from his office a few times, but still, they’d loved him like a father, or a close uncle. However McCourt was shot in the line of duty when Lestrade was in his last year of secondary school, which scared the two boys so badly, because they came to the realization that good men die just as easily as bad ones.

The man who killed McCourt was the first man Greg killed in his life. He was sixteen, and using his intelligence and surprisingly apt ability to act innocent when he wanted information, he tracked down the man, knocked him out and pushed him into the lake in the dark of the night. It was the first time he realized he would make a good detective, and an equally good murderer. He was disturbed by the fact that he had killed, but not as much as one would expect. Had it been someone younger, or any kinder, he would have been traumatized, but he was able to catalog it as appropriate in his mind, because he had done it in revenge. But he eventually failed to catalogue and remembered it. He began to panic and went into state of such catatonia that his mother sent him to live in the country with his aunt in Wales for a few months, away from school and people.

He graduated high school as one of the top students, despite his absences, and got a full scholarship to Trinity College. After receiving permission from the Bishop to attend the college, he easily excelled as he gained a degree in mathematics and quantum physics. He had gone to college for maths under the wishes of his parents, but with always unhappy with the situation. So he quit college when he was 20, to his mother's anguish, and moved to America under the money he had made writing papers for the college and what he'd saved up over the years. His mother cried and told him he was horrible for doing this to her, and he almost didn't leave until his younger brother urged him to go (who had over the years become somewhat of a conscious for him). Before he left, he went to confessional and spent four hours making up for all his sins up to that day, the only one he did not mention to the priest being the man he murdered. He did ten hail Mary's and a prayer to the priest for that on his own, and that was that. Well, that was that most of the time, provided he could block things out successfully. He had long stopped relying on the church for repentance from sin, but he still couldn't shake the faith entirely after so many years of following it.

After he arrived in New York, he hitchhiked across America, occasionally paying for buses with the little money he had left. It took him about to weeks to get to California. The simply part of his brain told him that he wanted to go to California because that was where it was famously warm and he'd always wanted to see the movie stars. The not-so simply part of him was pretty sure it was just because he wanted to be as far away in America from home as possible. Once he reached California, he joyfully discovered the Castro District and had a week of basically being overwhelmed by the world of men who didn't let sin stop them. It fascinated and enthralled him, but being him, he started to feel guilty and moved closer downtown.

He worked odd jobs, making the little extra from late nights and overtime in order to pay for training to become a police man under the influence of McCourt. He was able to get a job fairly quickly and moved up the ranks, ignoring the fact that his family had decided to disinherit him for moving away. Despite the fact that his family had shunned him, Lestrade preferred to go by, well Lestrade. Perhaps it was a way of holding on to the last bit of his family he has. That, and making no attempt to banish his accent. As he moved up the ranks in the police department to Inspector, which also raised his salary, he could finally afford a better (though still not very large) flat to replace the tiny two-room one he had lived in for years.

By the time he was 29 he had become Detective Inspector, with a very good record and stunning statistics. However he lived alone in a dull flat in California up until he met his future wife, Lena, whom he married the same month he met. They were madly in love, but Letrade's over-devoted ways with his work affected their marriage heavily. His drinking habits also became increasingly worse, and though Lestrade was not a violent drunk, he wasn't the most peaceful one; he mostly just yelled a lot. They had a child, Dolores, when Lestrade was 30, thinking that it might help. It didn't. They divorced the same year they had married under peaceful terms but less than amicable standings. Lestrade moved twenty minutes away from his old flat and lived with his brother Elliot, who had also recently moved to America and become disinherited by their family. Lestrade saw Dolores only once a month, as Lena was very strict about not letting him be drunk or hung over when he was with Dolores.

At age 35, living with his brother, no girlfriend, heavily drinking and able to see his daughter decreasingly less (which was probably a good movie on his ex-wife's part, as he was usually drunk), Lestrade's life began to fall apart. He stopped showing up to work, which meant something significant, seeing as his work was his life. He lay in his room every day with a gun in his mouth and his hand ready to pull the trigger, but always finding and excuse to wait another day. Finally his brother found him lying in his bed in the dangerous position and quite easily rendered the man into tears. He shaped his life up quickly after that, but it wasn't the same. He couldn't go through the day knowing he walked down these same halls a few months ago thinking it would surely be his last time to do so every day. So he decided to move to New York, kissing his daughter good bye and promising that he would see her at New Year's Eve every year. He bought a small house in Chelsea, Manhattan (above Greenwich).

III. sample post

'Once there was a way, to get back home…'

Lestrade sat at his desk, going through piles of paper at what could be considered fast, but was notably slower than his usual pace. His eyes were half closed and his horn-rimmed glasses were slipping down his nose. John Lennon drifted through the old record player he kept in his room. The window was open slightly, and he could hear cars rushing through the partially wet streets bellow. Smoke blew lazilly from the tip of the cigarette he held between his pointer and middle fingers and his slightly pareted lips. There was an empty shot glass next to a bottle of vodka resting in front of the papers.

"Traditional as always," his friends on the force said. He'd smirked at that; he rather liked the implication. Lestrade had resigned to looking a good bit older than he actually was many years ago. No point in not taking advantage of that to play the mysterious clever man.

He twirled the thin rolled paper in his fingers, staring tiredly at the smoke drifting out the window. His desk was in front of said window, and so if he leaned forward of it, he could easilly see the cars passing by. Could easilly open the glass and just…walk out. Walk out into the air. Just like that.

He had never leaned very far.

Lestrade heard his brother come in, the sound of him dripping on the carpets loudly. "Greg?" His brother called. The record ended simultaneously, the moment of stillness breaking.

"I'm here," Lestrade called tiredly. He turned his gaze slightly to see his revolver sitting peacefully on the corner of his desk, next to the papers. It wouldn't do for his brother to find it. He picked it up, popped the cartridge out, and slid the gun easily into the desk drawer. He stood, taking off his glasses and pocketing them. "Welcome home."

He smiled slightly as he heard his brother clomping gracelessly towards his room, no doubt to tell Lestrade whatever facinating thing happened to him today.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be able to pull the trigger. If there was such a thing, as the next day:

((sorry this got so long, it just flew right away from me, it's like a one-shot almost^^'.))

SYR INTEGRA of CAUTION 2.0 created this, modified by Yols with Shakespeare lines.