Greg gave her a sympathetic nod. He knew all about going home to an empty house without having someone wait for him. He’d been divorced for over two years now, and while he had tried dating, he hadn’t been able to find anyone to settle with.
The past year had been a hell for him and the team. Sherlock’s death had left him in quite a mess, and they’d been heavily reviewed by the anti-corruption unit. Luckily, they had all walked away with it unscathed, except the bond that had once existed between Greg and Sally was ruined. They still worked together, but he didn’t trust her as much as he used to be. Gwen had been placed in his team to break up the tension between him and the other woman, but it had resulted into Gwen taking up Sally’s position, while the other woman now preferred to work with Dimmock’s team.
Even since Sherlock’s death, he’d had to work hard to keep his job, showing that he was capable of solving his own cases without the help of the consulting detective, who still, in the eyes of many was a fraud. There was still an investigation going about Sherlock’s fraud and the identity of Richard Brook, but there was no hard conclusion yet. So Greg had taken up more hours, making up for what his superiors saw as a mistake, getting back into their good books.
'You can call it that,' he exhaled as he crossed his arms. Workaholic wouldn't quite fit him, because he'd love to go home and relax for a bit. He simple couldn't afford it now that his name and reputation was smudged with what Sherlock had left behind.
He reached up with one hand and rubbed his face, obviously tired from the long days he was making. ‘I’m a single-father, so unless I have my daughter over, there’s no one to get home to.’
Dating was a failure, taking this job — she knew she’d be married to it for awhile without any way of going out to date. Gwen Cooper tried her everything to make stir up some things between a couple of the men in Arson unit, but that was horrible and none of them were her type. Not to mention, one of them lived in the basement of their mother’s home in Nottingham. There was no way she’d be doing that anytime soon, no way at all. Everything was just a mess, when accepting this job in Greg’s division, she at least got to see him and that seemed to help ease the pain, as that was weird? Who knew, but company with him wasn’t so bad and she was happy to have replaced Donovan. Even though, the Welshwoman wished she would have been dating or at least married, sometimes the craving for a child came and went, but at times, it went by as fast as possible when dealing with child death at scenes. The job was a bit harder when dealing with all of that heavy stuff.
"OH! Y’have a daughter? I didn’t know tha’, I mean — somebody told me y’been married at one point, but not with any children. ‘m sorta jealous, been wantin’ a kid for sometime, but ‘m almost ‘fraid to neglect them. This job, y’hafta practically marry it and give it all of y’attention t’get shit done ‘round here. Not t’mention y’hafta get up early in the morning or even sometimes earlier if the calls come in. Not so sure how i’d deal wit’ tha’, but ‘m glad y’have somethin’ t’go home to on th’ weekends. I go home t’a goldfish tha’ never dies. and quite literally, I think I have an immortal goldfish. I gave it scotch before and still not dead, but — I was shitfaced then ….." Okay, Gwen, get back on topic. What the hell was she even doing on that subject anyway. "Wha’ is her name? Y’daughter? If y’don’t mind me askin’ all of these things, I mean — I really don’t mean t’pry."
'Right,' Greg nodded as he sat down on the side of her desk, searching it and found a stag of postit notes, pulling one off and taking the pen from his inside pocket and writing it down.
'Yeah they usually do large portions,' he explained. 'I'm not picky. I eat everything, really,' he added and grinned at her.
He doesn’t correct her when she calls him ‘Sir’. It’s quite normal for someone lower in rank to address someone higher formally. Sally does it too. Hell, even Dimmock does it. Greg would have been a DCI by now if it hadn’t been for Sherlock —
He clears his throat as he finished writing down her order. He picks up the phone and dials the number of the restaurant, waiting for them to pick up.
'I'd like to order a dish of shrimp and pork fried rice and two egg rolls, please. And could you put the sauce in a separate container? — Scotland yard, 7th floor. Right — thank you!' he hung up the phone again.
He crumbled up the note he had used to write her order down and threw it in the bin.
'So don't you have any home to go to?' he asked, knowing it was rather forward and probably rude, but it was a common question asked by colleagues when someone stayed in the office late.
She had no real home to go to aside from her flat, which was both in parts miserable and boring, but it sufficed in doing it’s job when Gwen wanted to get totally shitfaced after a day at work. The things sometimes she saw, she required heavy alcohol to get through the night of the horrors at the Yard and the crime scenes they dealt with. Gwen Cooper was used to them, but still prone to inability to sleep after so much blood and gore, but she’d never rightfully admit how much it’d fuck her up. Taking a sip of her coffee, she looked up from her papers and noticed Greg, there was a small bubble in her stomach because she had such a crush on him. He was always so nice to her and seemed to consider her to be apart of his team no matter what she did. She also seemed to do much better in ranks than Sally lately, which almost made her the second woman in charge for him. The Welshwoman was always with Greg at scenes, on the days she wasn’t, they were wicked and horrible on her. Dimmock was literally too stupid to function, he had the time on him, but he was useless.
"Not really, no. The flat serves purpose to house me when I need sleep, but I prefer to stay late to do papers unless I have a migraine from hell. But even then, I sit in and do all of the papers. I also have a lot of papers from forensics, Anderson wrote me out a report." And it was weird, she never seemed to ever stop working these days, her existence was for work and work alone. But Greg made her excited to go.
There was a bit of a puzzled look on her face, he wasn’t gone. Why wasn’t he? “Y’don’t have a place to go to? Or d’ya just prefer to work til you pass out too? I always took y’for a workaholic just like me, really.” Pushing the strand of hair behind her ear and managed to push off that stack of papers for the other.
okokaaaaaaaaaaaaay i really AM going to bring back this account bc i want to eventually do that stuff with dciglestrade like promised.
I bloody well hate the Yard coffee, but it helps me get through the day.
"Uh, well yes, I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience. My name is Ianto Jones, I am the representative of the Torchwood Institute at Cardiff. My boss wanted me to come on behalf of my corporation to extend a mutual hand to Scotland Yard because we specialize in dealing with the more… abnormal crimes that may occur within your jurisdiction."
Hah — oh boy, Torchwood. “Oh yes, we’ve run into your boss, Captain Harkness. Jack came ‘round last year to help deal with an arson cover up turned homicide. M’boss will be pleased with your extended hand, Mr. Jones. It’s good to have our resources, especially with the abnormal.” Gwen was a bit baffled that Torchwood came forth like that, but it was nice, really.