Greg Lestrade had lived a good, long life. He had even become head of Scotland Yard, of course he'd given up his police days years ago. He was verging on 80 now and he couldn't go running about the streets anymore, no matter how much he wanted to.
The ex-Inspector sat on the couch in his living room, content to just relax as he did most Sundays. He closed his eyes and reflected on how much everything had changed over the last few decades. Anderson finally admitted his affair with Sally to his wife, divorced her and promptly married Sally. They were actually very happy together and working with them was suddenly much more bearable. They'd both retired now, last he'd heard they were living somewhere in Surrey.
Of course thinking back on these things his thoughts became tinged with sadness as the forever young faces of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes formed in his mind. He'd never forget how distraught Sherlock had been when John had been killed in the explosion at the warehouse. For those first few months the man was a walking shadow, after a while he got better only to relapse into depression once more.
Eventually the man had gotten back on his feet but he was never the same, he was always, hollower. Then came the day five years after John's own passing that Sherlock finally joined him thanks to a nervous criminal with a trigger happy finger. Lestrade had always felt guilty about it, if he'd only gotten there sooner perhaps he could of saved the younger man. He couldn't help but be reminded of those stories of old couples who die within weeks of one another, it wasn't exactly the same but somehow Greg couldn't help but smile at the thought.
They had buried Sherlock next to John at Mycroft's insistence, the funeral was small and practical, Sherlock would of liked it. The whole affair was bitter sweet really, in a way people were relieved because finally the detective could be with his blogger again.
He must of fallen asleep at some point because when he opened his eyes again the sun was setting, he got up a lot faster than usual without the normal aches in his bones. For the first time in years he felt light on his feet, almost like he could go running around London again. The good feeling faded however when he saw his own body sitting on the couch.
"And I thought my death was drab." An all too familiar voice drawled, "Dying in your sleep? Really it's so, peaceful."
Greg's eyes widened at the sight, there in front of him siting at his dining table was Sherlock Holmes. His face hadn't aged a day, he looked exactly the same as he had the day Lestrade had found him with a bullet hole in his head, he was even wearing the same clothes. The only thing missing was the bullet wound.
His jaw dropped as John seemingly materialized out of thin air standing next to him.
"Sherlock play nice, the man is probably a little shocked," John scolded, "I know I was."
"You...but you guys?" Greg stammered.
"Died 32 years ago?" Sherlock provided, "Yes, we did."
"How are you here?" He croaked.
"Sorry to be the barer of bad news Greg," John sighed, "But you kicked the bucket. And may I say, your death was much more pleasant than either of ours."
"I'm the one who took a bullet to the brain." Sherlock grumbled.
"I got blown up Sherlock!" John argued before sighing, this was evidently a conversation they had had many times, "Can we discuss this later when we are back with Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft?"
"Mycroft and Martha are here too?" Greg gaped.
"No, they are back in..." John trailed off, "Well, we don't really know what to call it, but we came to take you with us."
"It's always good to have company when you die." Sherlock added, "Poor John was stuck as a ghost for nearly two months before I let him pass on."
"Wait, those first 2 months when John died in the explosion, you could SEE him?" Lestrade gasped.
"And talk with him and occasionally touch." Sherlock added. Lestrade made a face, John rolled his eyes.
"Come on let's go." John said quietly, "I promised Sherlock we could go and solve the Jack the Ripper case today."
"Jack the Ripper?" Greg chuckled.
"We have all the unsolved cases in history to solve!" Sherlock grinned ear to ear, "Care to join us?"
Greg watched in wonder as his palms became smooth again and his hair darkened, he was sure of he looked in a mirror he'd look 40 again.
"Why not?" he grinned.
"The game is on!"
I know I finished this ages ago but a fan gave me the most wonderful reviews and I couldn't help but write this!