Moffat/Gatiss and Doyle own Holmes. I shamelessly borrow him.
Thank you ArtsyChick! My lovely beta :)
She rode with Anderson to Baker Street. Lestrade took his own car and left ahead of them. She couldn't blame him.
"Make a left up here." She told her colleague and sometime lover.
His eyebrow quirked, "But that's the long—"
"There's construction on the corner and the whole patrol will get blocked up if we try to pass through with three units."
They both knew that construction had cleared out at lunch. Anderson opened his mouth again, but suddenly thought better of it.
The whole thing felt very strange, surreal. Sherlock Holmes, kidnapper…fraud?
"Do you think we're—" It flew from her mouth in a rush of emotion, nigh even panic, and died on her tongue.
His hand tightened on the steering wheel and he was quiet for a long moment.
"It's not impossible."
A perfect non-answer.
He tried again, a little more firmly, "We're doing our jobs."
"Worst case scenario, we're wrong." she scoffed, "Wouldn't be the first time."
"Someone will figure it out." He assured her…or himself, it was hard to say.
But they both knew that wasn't quite true as they closed in on Baker Street and watched all hell break loose.
And a few hours later, the one man who did figure it out decided to take the fall.
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