Conclusion to "The Trial of Sherlock Holmes," "Unexpected Beginnings," "Those We Thought We Knew," and "The Nanny."
***In the interest of time, I will be posting this story without editing it first. Please bare with any temporary typos or grammatical errors. Thank you.***
August 2015
Greg Lestrade entered his home, mobile in the crook of his neck and a frustrated look on his face.
"Look, all I'm saying is that the kids need to learn to keep their word! If they say they're going to be somewhere, they better damn be somewhere!"
The DI's ex-wife spoke on the other end with curt dismissal.
"I can't make them do anything, Greg. They're teenagers. If they don't want to have coffee with you, maybe you should reevaluate yourself, not them."
He started to gruffly look through his mail, making his way ideally to the kitchen counter.
"Can we not start this again? I'm doing my best, but there's only so much I can do when you leave me and take the kids to bloody Siberia!"
He flipped through bill after bill, only becoming more and more frustrated.
"Codicote is hardly Siberia, and I wouldn't have had to if you had paid more attention to me and less attention to your bloody work!"
But Greg wasn't listening anymore. Instead, he held a bright red envelope in his hand, a glittery Christmas stamp in the upper right hand corner. Flipping it over, he saw his ex-wife's name on the return address.
"Alright, I know you love Christmas, but this is ridiculous, really!"
"What? Christmas? What are you talking about? I know you might want to change the subject, but that's a stupid way to do it, even for you!"
As she spoke, he ripped open the envelope, pulling out the contents. When his eyes had finally focused on it, he nearly dropped the phone, his heart-rate skyrocketing.
"Get out! Get the kids and get out of the house. Now!"
"Greg? What's wrong? You're scaring -"
"Do it now! Grab the kids, go directly to Scotland Yard, I'll meet you there!"
She gave a timid sound of affirmation before clicking off the phone. Greg didn't even bother to lock the door behind him as he raced from the house. But his destination wasn't Scotland Yard. Instead, he went to the second safest place he knew: 221B Baker Street.
Sherlock was deep in a book on swarm and evolutionary computation when Lestrade bounded up the stairs. The DI hardly waited for him to look up before forcing the book down.
"Sherlock, you'd better have bloody answers for me because if you don't, I swear to God -"
The consulting detective looked up in frustration and confusion at the flustered man before him.
"What on earth are you talking about?"
With a huff, Lestrade forced the card he had been gripping since he'd removed it from the bright red envelope. It didn't take much for Sherlock to see why the man was so undone. The card featured a smiling, happy family on the cover, a woman and two children. The resemblance of the children to the DI was unmistakable. A happy, green banner along the top wished the recipient a happy Christmas, 2014. Along the bottom, however, a much more disturbing message was written in bright red ink: consequences.
Sherlock stared at the word for only a moment before rising. He pushed the door to the landing closed, revealing a set of clues which had been tacked to the wall. The first was a photograph of a rifle, the base of which had written the same word, found at the time of an attack on Abigail Bunting. The second, a photograph of Molly, the back of which bore the message, found when Tom was a suspect, then was murdered, himself. The third, a child's book with the same inscription, found when little baby Watson was abducted. Now, the resident of 221B held the card aloft, comparing it to the other clues.
"First Abigail and Mrs. Hudson, then Molly, then the Watson's, now -"
"Now, my bloody family! You said you had this in hand months ago, Sherlock, but I can't wait anymore! What the bloody hell is this!?"
He turned to face the DI, a look of stoic absolution on his face.
"Revenge, Lestrade. This is revenge."