Chapter Text
Greg sees it- that little flicker of pain in the doctor's eyes every time John loudly proclaims his straight-ness.
The detective--despite what some may think-- is not an imbecile. Granted- he can't read people as well as the Holmes clan can, but he is very skilled at understanding something they can’t: people.
Greg understands that despite the his own near-insistence towards therapy so many years ago, John had obviously not seen any sort of medical professional.
And it goddamn hurts. It hurts to see this kid (really, despite John’s current age-he couldn’t look past that scared child he once helped.) still suffering because of what those bastards did to him after what… nearly 20 bloody years?
It hurts because Greg still feels responsible. Not like he really could’ve done anything different, but there’s still the voice in the back of his head telling him that if he had forced John to the hospital that night, or took his statement, or something. Anything more than what he had done. Anything he could’ve possibly done to make his friend feel something close to okay.
Obviously on a surface level, the detective knows that if he really had done any of that, he would’ve lost John. Yet he still feels guilty.
Ah, such is life.
And then there is the issue of Sherlock. His two friends (bless their stupid little hearts) are obviously, madly, irrevocably in love with each other. A sodding blind man can see it.
Of course, Sherlock won’t make a move because he doesn’t want to scare off his only friend and God knows John bloody won’t, especially with his history that he refuses to work through.
A stalemate. A catch 22. Call it what you will, Greg is tired. He’s tired of seeing the people he loves (yeah he said it) get hurt time after time .
Either way, Greg decides that the best way forward was to simply be there for his friend if and when he was ready to talk about it… and maybe make him a set of keys for his new place. The one without the arse of an ex-wife.