“And she’d have liked you too.” 

Are you guys sick of Lestrade’s mom yet? Well I’m not! 

The almost a year after they met, newly clean Sherlock tracked down Lestrade who was suspiciously absent from the Yard. He found him standing outside a humble Cathedral in a poor part of London, looking at a tombstone. 

“Your mother,” he said, making the obvious deduction. 

Lestrade smiled. Because Sherlock didn’t leave, didn’t scoff at useless sentimentality. He stood quietly and solemnly as long as Lestrade did, and the DI felt pride well up inside him. He’d helped Sherlock as much as he could, and the moment they shared by his mother’s grave was, somehow, the perfect dedication to her.