(no subject)

[kinglestrade]

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Character name: DI Gregory Lestrade Series: Sherlock (BBC) Character history: There honestly isn’t much known of the more intimate facts of Lestrade’s existence. A part of him as basic as his full name wasn’t offered until the second season and wasn't even mentioned in the original book series. Let’s have a go at this anyway! Once upon a time, say – about forty seven years ago, someplace around Kent, Gregory Lestrade was born the third son out of five rowdy boys. His father, a blue collar working class sort of a man, showed more affection to his work and to his pubs than to his family; and his mother, a housewife, was constantly harried and often too busy keeping the household together to pay her boys much individual attention. The result? A very punchy childhood. Oh, Gregory loved his brothers despite all their quarrels and he was, countless lectures aside, a good kid. However, his fists and his knees still saw more action in those days than those of the typical grade school kid. He’d get into fights with his siblings at home. He’d cause altercations with playground bullies at school. The appeal of chasing down bad guys had apparently caught onto him at a very early age. It made him feel good. It felt right. It made more sense to him than the Roman Catholic masses his mother would sit him through every week. Shame it got him in so much trouble, though. After a rebellious bout in his teen years (he still listens to punk music to this day), Lestrade eventually learned to channel his energies in a more productive way. He met a nice girl and cleaned up his act. He joined the force. And he stayed there, for twenty years and onwards (decades of homicide cases, wasn’t that nice?). Even settled down long enough to marry and sire two daughters (fully grown now, no thanks to him). Through hard work and pure tenacity, Greogry Lestrade climbed up the ranks to Detective Inspector and earned himself a respectable reputation. Of course, it was far from easy. Worked hard to support his family; worked hard to avoid his family, who grew to resent him for his general lack of presence in their lives. Received praise for his results; received constant reprimand for his means of getting those results. Lestrade never chose the easy route in life, but it was the way he rolled and damned if it wasn’t efficient. Enter Sherlock Holmes. It is never explicitly said how Sherlock met Lestrade, but it was presumably at a crime scene and arguably whilst Sherlock was high. Prior to John Watson’s return from Afghanistan, Lestrade worked with a drug addicted Sherlock Holmes for five years. He helped the younger man through his addiction, sought out Holmes’ insight at the most difficult of cases. Put up with Sherlock’s crazy shit -- Because Lestrade needed Sherlock (and Sherlock needed Lestrade). A time skip to the start of the series and a change in verb tense later, and Lestrade’s still working with Sherlock (and Mycroft) Holmes. Still dealing with bizarre homicides, Holmes based shenanigans, nicotine addiction, and tragically failing marriages. And after the current last episode of the series, he’ll be putting up with a lot more soon enough. Character personality: Two things: Lestrade is known as the “best of a bad lot”, and is one of three people in the world who Sherlock Holmes has enough affection for to consider a friend. That says quite a lot about him, believe it or not. The first thing you notice about Lestrade is that he’s touch sarcastic. He’s pretty trigger happy with those little verbal quips and snips of his, which is only fair considering the utter crap Sherlock and life in general puts him through. However, Lestrade is nothing but honest and straight forward as well. He’s serious, but obviously good humored. Sometimes tetchy, but level headed and incredibly patient. Probably has to be all of things, considering the rather gruesome nature of his job. And it’s glaringly obvious just how much his job means to him and not just the title of it either. Gregory Lestrade is a detective who legitimately wants to see shit done and will bravely go to certain lengths, patiently suffer through various obstacles, to get there. He might not be as imaginative or ingenious as Sherlock, but he’s quick, he’s hard working, and above all else, he’s practical. Inviting Sherlock to crime scenes could jeopardize his career (and most likely bars him from further promotion), but he does it because it makes the most sense and reaps the most results. He’ll accept Sherlock’s impossible personality to solve a case, and he’ll swallow his fear and point his gun at the belly of a beast to save a total stranger. Why not? He’s a cop, right? Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade obeys the law and doesn’t consider himself above it, but he is more than open to the idea of cutting through a few excessive bureaucratic corners if the situation calls for it. He’s so pragmatic, so used to doing things his ‘own’ way, that uniformed diplomatic events such as press conferences (& average family life oops) seem to throw him through bit of a loop. This comes at odds with the ease and borderline paternal nature he has around his team, Sherlock’s group, and the public people with whom he interacts as a cop. So in short, he’s a good cop, because he’s brave, a great leader (“even the king began to wonder”), practical, hardworking, and tough as shit. And he’s Sherlock’s friend for many reasons, but probably mostly because he’s patient, frank, and a bit of a rebellious outsider in his own right. Plus, he puts up with him, but that’s a given. -SAMPLES- Journal entry sample: If anyone has a coherent explanation as to why a working officer was abducted from his flat and relocated to an unrecognizable island paradise, I’d love to hear it. I’ve quite had my fill of vacations, thank you. 3rd person sample: It had taken the hospital staff hours to convince Lestrade that no, none of the food or drink had been poisoned, drugged or otherwise tampered with in any way. Fresh from an excursion in Bakersville and more immediate abduction, Lestrade felt entirely justified in his ardent suspicion (though he did suffer a small pang of guilt for raising his voice at those poor nurses). Ironically, the first location he visited upon release was the pub. Too buggering old for existential crises, he had thought to the bottom of his third mug. A bit too gray and weathered to be whisked away to some sci-fi brain washing spectacle of a place, wasn’t he? As a fellow bar patron was so kind to inform him, apparently not, no. Currently, Lestrade stood facing the ocean, his London coat tucked under his arm, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this horizon was very much not the Atlantic to which he was accustomed. Lestrade had never even been outside of Europe. Furthest he had been was south of France to see some distant family, at best. And he thought of them now as he pulled out an oily from his pants pocket (flinched instinctively when his fingers brushed up against his discarded wedding ring), realized his eldest would be even more disappointed to see that he had picked up smoking again. “Sorry, love,” he murmured gravely to no one, “’ll try again next year.”