Character(s): Holmes, Lestrade (Watson is absent but salient)
Summary: Lestrade weighs the reliability of clues.
Author's Notes: BBC Sherlock universe. Entry for Watson's Woes July writing prompts; fill for July 10 prompt: "Midnight summons." Can be read as a companion to my July 8th response, Late, and my July 9th response, Waiting. It seems to have turned out as a 221B.
Word Count: 221
Lestrade was uneasy; he knew he looked dim in certain company, sure, but he was capable of drawing his own conclusions just fine. Take Sherlock, now: soaked through, no umbrella: preoccupied with something. (Certainly consistent with his expression. His eyes were not focusing on anything.). Hammering on Lestrade’s door at midnight: anything that had him asking for help was probably dire. (Also consistent with his face. His lips were quivering and the tendons in his jaw and temple stood out.) He started babbling about footprints without even being asked: now that was odd. He usually made the rest of Lestrade’s crew ask before deigning to explain, and when he did condescend to speak, his voice certainly never cracked. Only John could get a walk-through without having to ask, and John wasn’t here—Ah. Lestrade had hoped he’d be able to gloat a bit more when this happened, but he did like John, so he swallowed his comments and quickly got dressed. As they ran out into the night, he allowed himself a private moment of grim triumph at his deductions. Perhaps he should have started from the facial expression, but the behavioural clues had been just as good—and more reliable. He had known what each behaviour meant individually, but the haunted terror in Sherlock’s face he had never seen before.