A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood (Sherlock)

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Sherlock was offended. Angry, even. Greg couldn't see why besides Sherlock being a child. "A stressful morning? Oh, I see - you think this is all about the supermarket." He was stopped by Sherlock's tone - he was serious, now demeaning of Lestrade himself. But wasn't it just?

"This is to mute everything going on in here." Sherlock pointed to his head, and Greg could only think of it as a revolver. "In case you hadn't considered, alcohol isn't as strong as the drugs - but then I doubt that you'd allow me to use in your presence. So I suppose in this instance I shall have to choose quantity over quality, hmm?"

Greg hadn't thought about or realized he'd slapped Sherlock until after he'd done it. His eyes widened at the sting of his palm, and suddenly he was horrified and God, why did he do that? How could he? Sherlock might never trust him again. He was living in the man's house for God's sakes! How lucky was he, that Sherlock didn't take complete advantage of him sometimes, considered him worthwhile once in a while. Listened to him. What if he'd just broken that? There was an overwhelming fear of being cast out after he gasped, "Oh, god! I'm so sorry!" How much he wanted to step forward and hold Sherlock, hide his face that was so clearly showing his absolute guilt behind the other man and make sure he was alright. But it'd be hypocritical.

He was an adult, a cop, a father, he should know better. He was the older. This was what he'd been afraid of doing to Dolores; why Lena had hidden her away from him. At that moment, Greg was terribly scared of himself, because it shouldn't have taken that much to set him off, and if it did, maybe he wasn't worth even calling himself a friend of Sherlock's. The second Sherlock had threatened drugs, and shown his inherent difference, Greg had lashed out. And it had accomplished nothing.

He'd seen the lack of guilt Sherlock had when it came to his own life. The hospital bed Greg had helped him out of, held his hand to pull him back in the wee hours of the morning. This was all just automatic reaction; Greg's fear that Sherlock would never learn how bloody wonderful he really was; how fed up he was of Sherlock taking his own life so casually. But he'd never meant to let that constant fear out, especially not like this.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Greg slapped him.
And honestly, he should have expected it. Lestrade's default reaction to anything the consulting detective said that was remotely unpleasant was to lash out. Even if most of the time he didn't mean it, it still showed humanity's hesitance to accept truth. To accept him.

Sherlock froze through the sting of the slap, stayed still as Greg rattled off some form of apology (irrelevant, a 'sorry' has always been a request for forgiveness. If someone truly deserved to be forgiven they shouldn't need to ask for it), and paid little attention to the flashes of whatever emotion Lestrade was feeling (he didn't have the energy to decipher the enigma of facial expressions) about his actions.
Because it never really mattered what people felt. It mattered what they said, what they did, and what they let other people see.
Lies disguised humanity's hesitance to accept truth.
Lies were what he used to disguise humanity's hesitance to accept him.
They worked until he told the truth.

When he spoke, his words were an unintentional whisper.
"How do you expect me to be 'human' when you can't accept the honest things I say?"
How can I be what you want me to be if you don't like it when I'm myself?

As far as slaps went, it wasn't particularly bad. At least Lestrade hadn't punched him this time, that had left a rather ugly bruise. Not that he cared overly much about physical marks, but the dull ache it had when he had talked had been extremely frustrating.
Holmes didn't move, leaning still against the countertop. He hoped Letrade wouldn't try to confuse him through some form of attempted comfort. It wasnt really acceptable to hit somebody, and then try to put them off guard with compassion. And people though Sherlock was cruel.

When the man spoke again, it was with anger.
"Do you not see that I'm not the only one wearing a mask every day, Greg? People don't like the truth, so they hide from it, they tell lies because its easier to face those than the things they don't want to hear."
Sherlock had never had much in the way of a brain to mouth filter, but usually his thoughts were thankfully so fragmented and muddled that they didn't usually make it this far our of his head.
"You want me to be normal? More human? Okay, I can do that. But do you know how I do it? Cocaine. That's the truth, and its clear how much you accept that."

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

If Sherlock wasn't Sherlock, Greg would call the expression on the man's face one of astonishment. But he couldn't gather anything to say, his thoughts, and Sherlock's whisper was a jolt - a horrible one - to the system. "How do you expect me to be 'human' when you can't accept the honest things I say?"

He'd hurt Sherlock. Something he never ever wanted to do. It'd just been a shopping trip, he should've known, but it had just been a shopping trip. Why did he try to make Sherlock normal so often? Sherlock answered it for him - because could never absolutely accept the truth that Sherlock would never be 'normal.' And what a tragedy it would be if he was! Greg might have laughed and the conflicting desperateness of the situation.

He wanted to accept everyone and everything, no matter the difference, but how could he? Destructiveness, cynicism. Difference. It was genetically ingrained into his mind - and everyone's - to hate what you are not to defend yourself. It goes back to the beginning of everything. But he was defending himself now, and it wasn't an excuse. He said nothing, because every would sound like a whine, an tool.

Suddenly Sherlock was angry, yelling at him without the raise in volume, but his tenseness and eyes betraying him. "Do you not see that I'm not the only one wearing a mask every day, Greg? People don't like the truth, so they hide from it, they tell lies because its easier to face those than the things they don't want to hear. You want me to be normal? More human? Okay, I can do that. But do you know how I do it? Cocaine. That's the truth, and its clear how much you accept that."

"It's because I'm afraid of you."[/b]

He hadn't meant to say that. His thoughts had been covered with abject self hate, and hate towards Sherlock's inability to be normal, and his inability to accept that. He considered himself a progressive man, but was he really? No, of course not. But once he'd spoken, he realized his words were only the truth. And as much as he hated that truth, it was Sherlock wanted, wasn't it? He felt comfortable around Sherlock, had even some days considered him his best mate, but he was still afraid of Sherlock. Afraid of what the man who was so different and special might do, to him, to work, to society. What he was capable of. He trusted Sherlock, inexplicably, but did not trust his own trust. Suddenly, he was able to grasp the fact that he would never completely accept Sherlock, though he could pretend and want to all he liked. It was a depressing but almost vitalizing thought.

"I know you won't change for me. You shouldn't. But your strangeness frightens me,"[/b] Greg heard himself (strangely) calmly admit, "And for some reason, you know me better than anyone else. For some reason, I like you, though I shouldn't. Just because I'm so wrapped up in my own… normalcy, I never want you to change, while logic tells me I do. So what do I do with that, Sherlock? I guess I'm just… can't help being selfish. And I'm sorry it's so."[/b] Sorry they had to be in this situation; sorry that, in the end, was wasn't any different than everyone else; about all of this in general. And to think, acceptance seemed so easy when put in words!

He truly did not know what to do. Knowing he inherently wanted Sherlock to change, but his consciousness saying otherwise. That perhaps he would never fully accept Sherlock, even if he wanted to, because it would never be the 'right' thing to do and if Gregory held faith in anything, it was logic. This was a frightening and new revelation to Gregory, one he did not like.