I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 189 : San Marino Coffee Shop

The snow was crackling under his feet, breaking the silence around him.  He had forgotten to take gloves and the cold was intense, forcing him  to rub his hands one against the other in an attempt to keep a little  warmth. The policeman had always loved winter but tonight he would have  given anything for not being out in this weather.
He had been walking  for nearly half and hour when he noticed a coffee shop still opened.  The windows were covered in mist and a discreet smell of coffee was  floating around. He dived his hand in his pocket, looking for some  change and entered the place.
A young, Caribbean man was standing  behind the counter, looking up at the news broadcast on the television.  He turned his head to the new-comer and cast him a brilliant smile.  Doing the night shift was usually boring, but he always tried to do his  job the best he could. Those who would come in the shop in the middle of  the night were usually desperate and, at this time of the year, frozen  so the waiter considered it his task to bring them a little warmth and  comfort, even just for a minute.
"What can I get you sir ?" the young man wondered.
"Anything burning hot." the detective tried to smile despite his gloominess.
"An americano maybe ?" the waiter suggested, pointing toward one of his coffee pot.
The policeman nodded before handing the younger man a five pounds note.
"Take a seat, I'll bring it to you in a minute." the Caribbean winked before collecting the money.

The  only other customer in the house was a youngish woman sat near the  window, apparently lost in her thoughts. Greg sat on the opposite table,  absent-mindedly glancing at the news. Nothing had change in the world  apparently. The bad guys were still running the states and the climate  was still being wrecked. The world was still the same and it was making  the detective so angry. He wanted to scream to everyone that nothing was  going to be like ever before. He wanted to squall his pain and  angriness. He wanted to punch the show anchor until they stopped smiling  fatuously and acknowledge that everything was doomed to change, but he  did none of that. Instead, he felt the first tears rolling on his  cheeks. Gregory Lestrade was not one to cry easily but as he was brought  his coffee he just couldn't stop the tears from rolling out.
"May I bring you a tissue ?" the waiter gently asked, not willing to feel intrusive.
The  policeman nodded slightly, grateful for the young man's attention. At  least, someone out there acknowledged his pain and wasn't pretending  that everything was going all right.
"Here." the Caribbean shyly smiled as he handled him a box of tissues.
"What is your name ?" the detective asked between two tears.
"Jessy sir." the waiter answered.
"You are a good man Jessy." Greg thanked him as he dried his eyes. "It's a shame that you have to work at night with nutters like me."
"I won't do that my  all life, don't worry sir." the young man smiled. "I have great dreams  and one day I will have the money to pursue them. And like it here, you  meet all kind of people, get to be a little part of their night or of  their life, it's rewarding."
The policeman was to add something when Jessy's phone started rigging, and  he excused himself before retreating to the back of the shop to answer,  leaving his customers alone in the room, the silent now only broken by the muffled sound of the night news.
Greg  took a sip of his burning beverage, starting to feel the warmth coming  back to his fingers as he clutched the cup with his two hands. He was  still feeling sad as a stone and hopeless but refused to think of the  future. All what mattered at that moment was that he was safe and sound  in this coffee and the snow and cold was already long gone. The shop  would be his stronghold, even if just for a second and it was all he  needed to care about.
As he was lost in his thoughts, he suddenly  felt a touch on his left arm and nearly jumped out of surprise. Slightly  panicked, he emerged of his dreaming and turned his head to where the  touch came from. The young woman he had seen sat on the opposite table  was now standing beside him, looking rather contrite to have scared him.
"Sorry for disturbing you." she quickly apologises, biting  her lower lip in discomfort. "I just couldn't help but notice that you  seemed sad and well, I ... I don't really like seeing someone sad without  asking them if I can help them out. I know it's not my business and Mum  always tells me that I should mind my own business instead but well, I just can't repress myself you see ..."
Her  explanation were pretty confusing but Greg could feel that she had  nothing but good intentions. Smiling through the unsound tears still  running on his cheeks, he invited her to join him at the table. They  stayed silent for a little while, both feeling quite awkward and the detective took advantage of the situation to try to deduce a few things about the stranger.
She looked young, maybe in her mid-twenties with long, auburn hair attached in a pony  tail. If it wasn't for her presence, alone and pensive, in a coffee at  nearly two in the morning, Greg could have easily mistaken her for a  student. She wasn't wearing any makeup or jewellery but still had that  very feminine and motherly feeling about her which gave her that  truthfulness feeling.
"You don't look like someone who is usually out late at night." the woman finally remarked in a soft, warm voice.
"I don't have the opportunity to go anywhere by myself usually." Greg admitted with a sad smile.
"But today you can." the stranger completed. "That's make two of us."
"What brought you here ?" the detective questioned, glad to divert the attention from his misery.
"Insomnia.  You are going to tell me that coffee isn't the best cure to insomnia  but this was the closest place open at night and I really didn't want to stay alone in my flat." she explained, somewhat ashamed, like a little girl caught in the act.
"What are you afraid of, if I may ?" the policeman wondered, genuinely curious about what could push a young woman to run away from her flat in the middle of a December night.
"I see brackish things every day  but sometime, when they are especially horrible, I suppose they come  back at night to haunt me." the woman clarified. "I'm an assistant  pathologist you see. What about you ?"
"It was too cold outside to keep walking." Greg shredded, trying to seem braver than he was.
"Where were you going in the night ?" the pathologist questioned convinced that the man before here wasn't usually a night walker.
"Anywhere." the detective admitted, sheepishly. "I'm waiting for a new day to start and then God only knows what."
"What happened ?" the young woman sympathized, feeling the distress of the policeman.
"She threw me out for someone else." the man muttered out  of anger. "She threw me out with nowhere to go in the middle of the  night. But she was everything to me. The children were everything to me  ..."
"You have children ?" the pathologist asked, not finding  anything else to say. She was tempted to pat the hand that the detective  had left on the table, but she wasn't sure he would like that.
"Three, the last one is just a baby..." the detective nodded, sadder than ever. "He need his father, they all need their father ...."
They  stayed silent for long minutes, looking at the snow falling by the  windows, before the pathologist suddenly proposed : "Would you like to  rest at my place ? I have a spare bed for you to use if you want."
"Why would you do that ? You don't even know my name ..." the policeman remarked, surprised.
"You  seem like a good man left in an unfair situation and with nowhere to go  if this coffee. That's enough for me." the woman retorted, smiling  shyly.
"I'm Greg." the man nodded.
"Molly." the pathologist smiled wider before leading him outside.
He had no idea why he had accepted to follow and tell his misery to a complete stranger, but  he felt nice and warm around her and that was enough for the night to  go by. What was he going to do the next evening, e had no idea but at  least, he would make it to the morning, and he supposed that when you were in his situation, that was already something to take.
Molly  also had no idea why she had invited the stranger to her place. She had  always been quite a careful woman and it wasn't usual to her to invite anyone but good friends to her place, but  she had felt that the man was desperate for care and that she had a  duty to save him. She always had wanted to save people, ever since she  was a child, and it had been the main reason for her to enrol into the  medicine faculty after she had graduated from high-school. Her mother  used to say that she had a heart big enough for two and, even if she had  always been quite unsuccessful with the boys, she believed that this little extra-care for the others was what made her useful to this world.

Greg couldn't help but to remember this story every time he would walk by the San Marino coffee shop on Shoreditch high-street. After all these years he still had no idea what Molly had seen in him that led her to be so kind and caring, but he was forever grateful that she hadn't turned a blind eye.
Even in his darkest days, he always forced himself to remember all what she had done for him and that he has no right to destroy all what she had built.
The  pathologist had sheltered him on that night and the night became weeks  which in turn became months. They had grown closer and closer and one  day the policeman had finally felt strong enough to move out and start  his life again. She had helped him find a flat and moving in. She had  been there when he had been called to court for the divorce. She had  been there when he had to say goodbye to his children after an always to  short visit. She had been there in every important moment since that  day and Greg had tried his best to be here at hers.
Somehow, they had found a brother and a sister in each other,  a soulmate, someone who wouldn't judge you whenever you were being  stupid but who was able to row at you when needed. She had helped him  rebuilt his life, and he had tried his best to make hers easier and happier.
Through the windows, he waved to the not-that-young anymore Caribbean man behind the counter before turning on the corner, being expected somewhere else.