[ Lestrade doesn't believe for one minute that Sherlock is indulging in some kind of new sadistic streak. He can't. What he does see is Sherlock falling in with someone who registers to him - both on old cop instincts and new angelic ones - as being far worse than his seemingly casual attitude would imply. And it's not so much that he's worried about what they might directly do to Sherlock - though that is always a concern - but rather about how dark a business this is skirting into.
Bad influences are easy to come by down here, and he knows there's not really much he can do about it. The fact that this is all consensual helps... somewhat. But whatever Sherlock's exact motivations are, the idea of him helping these sadists (and that's probably the kindest word that could be used for them) nearly makes him ill.
He shoves those thoughts aside, and is only left with the kind of frustration that comes along with being powerless and rather miserable about it. It's not breaking any of the ridiculous laws down here, obviously, and Lestrade can't tell him what to do.
It's really down to whether or not he trusts Sherlock. Again. Isn't it always? ]
I know you wouldn't start committing atrocities instead of solving them.
[ Oh, he knows that Crowley is a force to be reckoned with. There's an ominous sort of mystique that trails him, dark, mysterious and dangerous - which is all the more reason to get on his good side. Ignoring him entirely and leaving his head in the sand is hardly going to get him anywhere, especially when he's already on so many people's radars. His personality isn't one that goes ignored for long, so he'll step out of the shadows when it's under his terms and he'll use his name, face and expertise to crawl his way up the social ladder.
The best way to establish oneself is by saying yes to as many opportunities as possible - he didn't gain his homeless network by alienating people, he didn't gain the help of Angelo by hiding behind a screen and hoping for the best. He put in the groundwork; he fixed shelves and he ran errands, because it meant somewhere, someone will owe him a favour in future. That's always a useful thing to have. ]
Assuming there's something to solve.
[ Because there's nothing. Nineteen days without anything significant. Nineteen days of overworking himself in order to be too exhausted to confront the fact that his mind is slowly but surely unravelling at the seams.
[ Greg honestly doesn't know what would happen if Sherlock truly came apart at the seams. He's seen his consulting detective in fairly bad ways before, and the idea of returning to any of those is not something he wants to think about. He just knows what Sherlock won't do, and if there was ever any inkling of doubt in his mind, it has long since been dismissed. ]
We'll figure something out.
[ He knows it's not going to be easy. He never expected it to be. ]
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Bad influences are easy to come by down here, and he knows there's not really much he can do about it. The fact that this is all consensual helps... somewhat. But whatever Sherlock's exact motivations are, the idea of him helping these sadists (and that's probably the kindest word that could be used for them) nearly makes him ill.
He shoves those thoughts aside, and is only left with the kind of frustration that comes along with being powerless and rather miserable about it. It's not breaking any of the ridiculous laws down here, obviously, and Lestrade can't tell him what to do.
It's really down to whether or not he trusts Sherlock. Again. Isn't it always? ]
I know you wouldn't start committing atrocities instead of solving them.
no subject
The best way to establish oneself is by saying yes to as many opportunities as possible - he didn't gain his homeless network by alienating people, he didn't gain the help of Angelo by hiding behind a screen and hoping for the best. He put in the groundwork; he fixed shelves and he ran errands, because it meant somewhere, someone will owe him a favour in future. That's always a useful thing to have. ]
Assuming there's something to solve.
[ Because there's nothing. Nineteen days without anything significant. Nineteen days of overworking himself in order to be too exhausted to confront the fact that his mind is slowly but surely unravelling at the seams.
Eighteen days clean.
He's not sure how long that's going to last. ]
no subject
We'll figure something out.
[ He knows it's not going to be easy. He never expected it to be. ]
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He's not so sure they will.
Not for an eternity, anyway. ]