Midnight at the Lost & Found
Lost Souls in the hunting ground
It was New Year's Eve and because of the ever present threat of a terror attack, a million revellers crowding into a few square miles and an unusually high level of sickness in the Metropolitan Police Force all leave had been cancelled.
That was why DI Greg Lestrade found himself out on the streets of London giving directions to lost tourists and being abused by drunks when he should have been at home with Mycroft.
It was to have been their first New Year together as a proper couple but at least Mycroft, more than most, understood the dual roles of duty and office.
"We'll have our own New Year when you get back…just you and me…" he'd said.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of raised voices as yet another group of young men began shouting abuse at each other and then the fists started flying. He was tempted to let the whole thing run its course but then the group turned their attention to an innocent passer-by and he knew he had no choice but to wade in.
He never saw the knife that arced in a haphazard drunken curve to embed itself in his chest, nor did he feel the cold of the pavement as he sank down into a rapidly growing pool of his own blood.
