Third Wheeling
Summary: Greg is feeling like a third wheel. Too short to warrant a Read More. "Call me if you hear anything. Don't hold out on me, John!"
Greg hates that he even has to add that last sentence but he knows by now that he's not as important in the life of Sherlock Holmes as he once was. Gone are the days when he'd stay overnight at Sherlock's stingy flat to act as a barricade between him and the drugs he craved. Gone are the days when Greg's persuasion had been the only reason Sherlock had eaten anything at all.
Sherlock had needed him then. But he has John now. Greg Lestrade's importance has been downgraded to I-need-you-to-sneak-me-onto-a-crime-scene. As always, he's left as the third wheel.
Still, he tries not to let it bother him - particularly now when Sherlock is missing with a bloody bullet wound to the abdomen. There are more important things than Greg's hypersensitive emotions.
Though sometimes it still stings when he remembers the days he had spent with John after Sherlock's fall, drinking endless pints of alcohol until they stumbled home to each other's flats and passed out. They'd been close. Really close. Sherlock’s return had changed that.
Of course, Greg is thrilled that he's back. But he remembers bailing John and Sherlock out after the stag night and wondering if he really mattered so little that they wouldn't even invite him. How many times had he been a shoulder to cry on? For John and for Sherlock alike? He's always been there but they continue to cast him aside like he's just another casual acquaintance.
He knows he's right on the money when he doesn't get a call until the next morning, saying Sherlock has been re-hospitalised. After all, why would they bother letting him know. It's not like he's been worrying himself sick or anything.
Oh, wait.
Greg sighs. Being prepared for disappointment doesn't make it hurt any less.