21Lestrade had just gotten off the phone with Mycroft and was suiting up at the scene of the fourth suicide when Sherlock showed up. He had in tow the man from the flat, apparently a former army doctor by the name of John Watson. Still, it wouldn't do to let Sherlock get away without making the proper introductions, even if Mycroft had already ensured he would let Dr. Watson on the scene.
"Who's this?"
"He's with me," Sherlock replied shortly.
"Well, that's all well and good, but it doesn't work like that, Sherlock. I'm responsible for who sets foot on this crime scene. Now, who is he?"
Impatiently, "Detective Inspector Lestrade, this is Dr. John Watson, recently returned from service in Afghanistan. He's here to assist me. Now, may we proceed to the matter at hand?"
As Sherlock walked from the ambulance over to Dr. Watson, Lestrade shook his head. The last two days had certainly been interesting. Sherlock had been clearer in explaining his deductions, making it easier for Lestrade to follow them. Sherlock had obviously been quite pleased to have Dr. Watson tagging along with him, even if he had forgotten him at the crime scene in his exclamations over the color pink.
It was a good job that Lestrade had seen the warning signs and yelled to Campbell to be ready to take off after him. Sherlock hadn't had to be grounded more than once for disrupting evidence, but he could be forgetful when excited, so Lestrade preferred to head things off. Campbell had run track and could keep up with Sherlock as long as he didn't take to the rooftops. Still, it was looking like Dr. Watson would be a good influence on Sherlock, something Mycroft would be happy to hear, if he were willing to believe it at this point.
Lestrade continued to work until he saw that Sherlock was out of sight, and then he crossed over to where Mycroft Holmes was standing.
"Detective Inspector Lestrade."
"Mr. Holmes," Lestrade replied with a smile. "I saw you had a chance to inspect Sherlock and make sure he's okay."
"Yes, and thank you for your text. Do you think you're going to make much progress into the matter of who the shooter was?"
Lestrade looked at Mycroft pointedly for a moment. "I'm not a genius, but I'm not stupid either. Sherlock was in the middle of making deductions about the shooter and then told me to ignore him, that he was in shock." A few seconds silence. "Sherlock Holmes asking someone to ignore his deductions. And based on our earlier discussion and the fact that the shooter acted in a way that may well have saved Sherlock's life, I assume that anything I pursued wouldn't go anywhere."
"Indeed. You're far from 'stupid,' Greg…." As if he were changing the subject, "I am hoping that my brother's new roommate will be a good influence on him. I certainly hope so given that it seems very obvious at this point by Sherlock's behavior that Dr. Watson will have an influence of some sort. You'll keep me updated, I assume."
"Well, at the very least, he'll obviously have someone else watching his back. I'll keep you posted. I need to get back to the scene. Good night, Mycroft."
After a few weeks, it did seem as if John Watson had had a small influence on Sherlock. He made Sherlock take better care of himself, and Sherlock continued to give more coherent explanations. The latter seemed motivated by the desire for John to praise him, but it made cases with Sherlock less stressful for Lestrade so he was pleased.
"Why are people more willing to help John than me?" Sherlock asked Lestrade after they'd finished discussing the case he'd come over about.
A few seconds' pause. Lestrade noted that this topic of conversation had not come up until a time that John was absent. "Are some of my team not cooperating with you?"
Sherlock waved a hand dismissing Lestrade's question, "No, they work with me. But, they go out of their way to do things when John asks, and even when he doesn't. When we're working late at the Yard and John shows signs of being tired, someone brings us coffee. They never brought coffee before. When John asked one of your people about the status of the forensic analysis last Tuesday, instead of saying it wasn't done, the man called to the lab to find out when it would be. And clients and interviewees are more cooperative too. Last week—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I understand. No more examples necessary. Sherlock, have you ever heard the expression you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?"
Sherlock looked puzzled. "That isn't accurate, Lestrade. Flies are attracted to the—"
"Okay! Ix-nay on the figurative language. I meant that people are more cooperative when you act nicely to them."
Brow furrowed, "But I am… nice to them. You require me to be."
"Nooooo. You refrain from insulting them and commenting on their personal private affairs. That's not being nice; that's avoiding being a jerk." He sighed at Sherlock's clueless expression. "Look, you're a clever clogs prone to whinging who acts like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. John wears jumpers and smiles and says 'please' and 'thank you' and asks people how they're doing and knows their names, and so they believe he cares about them. They feel good when they do something to help him."
Disbelievingly, "You're saying that if I say 'please' and 'thank you' and 'how are you?' and remember names that people will be more helpful?"
"It's not a guarantee. And you probably wouldn't seem as genuine as John so it wouldn't have as great an effect. But, yes, Sherlock, I think you would probably see better results."
"Do you think those would have a sufficient effect alone? You have previously informed me that I should never fake a smile—"
"I believe my exact words were that I've seen less disturbing sights in horror films—"
Sherlock spoke louder to drown Lestrade out. "And I most certainly am not wearing jumpers!"
"And what exactly is wrong with jumpers?" John asked from the doorway.
"Well, Greg. I understand that you are now a primary school teacher, or at least a tutor." Mycroft remarked with a raised eyebrow during a routine luncheon kidnapping.
"Pardon?" Lestrade asked.
"Yes, it seems like you're teaching Sherlock how to say 'please' and 'thank you.' It's obvious how clever he is. It only took him thirty-three years to begin to grapple with the concepts. I do believe his understanding could use some fine-tuning though. He seems to believe that they are magic words that by themselves will produce results, regardless of the context he delivers them in."
Lestrade sighed. "What did he do?"
Mycroft took a sip of his tea and then dabbed at his lips with the napkin. "He called me and proceeded to insult me in several ways that I do not care to repeat, but my diet was involved at one point. He then demanded immediate access to CCTV footage related to the Myerson case he was working on for you. It was not a convenient time to dedicate someone to the task, and I proceeded to tell him that he'd have to wait. He then demanded between clenched teeth, 'Mycroft, please, get me the footage now,' sounding for all the world like a child half a minute from throwing a tantrum."
Lestrade couldn't help a resigned chuckle.
"Quite right, Greg. 'Please' is not a word I've heard pass my brother's lips. I was torn between encouraging the effort—however lacking— and making him wait in hopes that he would see the universe doesn't revolve around him and his timetable. It was quite the quandary. I finally decided that Sherlock was more likely to learn the lesson that 'please' is good than he was to learn that he isn't the center of everything."
Several days later, Lestrade was thinking over a conversation with Donovan earlier in the day.
"It's hard to get used to, sir," Donovan said as she walked down the street with Lestrade.
"To what?" Lestrade responded.
"To Sherlock Holmes saying 'please' and 'thank you.' It's obvious he still expects everyone to comply with him, but it's amazing how much less annoying it feels when he says those words. And at least you now know he noticed when you've done something for him. John Watson is a miracle worker."
And that seemed to be the reaction of most of his team Lestrade mused. Just a few days ago, Sherlock had even managed a case with Detective Inspector Dimmock after Lestrade recommended Sherlock. Of course, Lestrade had informed Dimmock of the ground rules and reminded Sherlock in a text. After all, it wouldn't do any good for Lestrade's reputation at the Yard if Sherlock went around insulting other teams. Dimmock had even said that he might call Sherlock in on cases from time to time. Lestrade thought that John Watson was an excellent flatmate for Sherlock, probably better than any of Mycroft's twenty-four selections, though Lestrade would never have dared to say it.
Lestrade's mobile rang. "Lestrade here."
"Greg," and Lestrade immediately got off the sofa to get ready to go, as he hadn't heard Mycroft sound that upset since the last time Sherlock overdosed years ago, "there's just been an explosion on Baker Street, and Sherlock isn't responding to texts. I'm unable to go at this time. If you could—"
"Say no more. I'm on my way."