AN: This is my first fanfic so don't hate too much but any reviews are welcome. Just a little trigger warning; it's not big but I use the word "rape". That's it. Thought I'd say just in case.
Looking out from the rooftop, the last lights of London gleamed in the dark. Shadows ruled this time of night but the man standing on the edge, watching the city, had little to fear. He was one of the shadows that reigned over the night. He was also the one that had set this meeting place and only an idiot chose a location that made them vulnerable.
"Detective Inspector," a voice called behind him. "I take it you bring news."
Turning around, Lestrade took in the sight of Mycroft Holmes. Even now, in the darkness where only the brave and stupid ventured, he was immaculately dressed and carried his umbrella. Lestrade eyed it distrustfully. It reminded him too much of the rapiers men used to hide in their canes, and it didn't help that the point was mahogany with only the end dipped in metal.
"If I didn't I wouldn't be here, ya know," he replied shortly. A raised eyebrow in reply caused him to sigh.
"Sorry," he said, "It's been a long few days. Meeting with the Council always stresses me out. You know how much they hate me."
"As you tell me every time you meet with them, I do believe myself to be suitably informed."
"You're an arse, Mycroft. Did you know that?"
"Just tell me what you have learned Gregory, and then we can both retire to preferred settings."
Lestrade sighed again. He hated having to work with Mycroft but as the oldest supernatural in London he had little choice. Mycroft was the just the latest, and smartest (though he'd never admit that), of many humans he had worked with to ensure that London was safe for all creatures. As the Council's representative here, it also meant that he had to report problems back forth, but he hadn't had to go to the actual Council House in decades.
"It isn't good news," he murmured. Mycroft stepped up beside him and they both turned to look out over the city.
"I am a grown man, Gregory. I will survive," Mycroft said sardonically.
"He was turned," Lestrade replied bluntly. The man next to him stiffened minutely but it didn't escape Lestrade's sharp eyes.
"Continue," Mycroft spoke, his voice hoarser than before.
"They believe it to be Ronan. There is no proof of course but he is the only one that would dare to try and force me from London. He was always the most against my accession of this position."
"And so he turned a psychotic criminal in the hope to…what exactly?"
"Either kill me or force the Council to remove me from London is my guess."
"Neither of which is likely to work. You are far too stubborn to leave or die."
Lestrade snorted in amusement. It was true after all, though it did help that he was a vampire old enough to rival the head of the supernatural council.
"The reason doesn't really matter though," he said, returning to the sombre mood. "What matters is that Ronan is running from the Council and it seems he doesn't actually have control of his latest project."
Silence fell while this information was processed. Lestrade enjoyed the respite and took the time to listen to the sounds of the city.
Cars. People. Fights. Celebrations. Rape.
He frowned at the last one. He knew as a police officer that he couldn't prevent all crimes, and that his job as London's guardian (Ha. That made him sound like a superhero or something.) was more about making sure humans didn't learn that the supernatural existed…but still. Hearing a crime always made him antsy to stop it. After Mycroft. Then I'll stop it. I need to feed anyway.
"This is grave news." Mycroft's voice brought him back to himself.
"I plan to hunt him," Lestrade said boldly.
"That would be best. You probably have a greater knowledge of London than even Sherlock," Mycroft complimented. Lestrade tried not to preen. He wasn't anyone's lap dog but getting a compliment from a Holmes was exceedingly rare.
"There is a problem however," he said haltingly. He didn't really want to tell Mycroft this as it was none of his business but it did affect their joint interests.
"Another one?" Mycroft asked, sounding bored. He had got the information he had come for and did not wish to spend more time than necessary on a roof with Gregory Lestrade.
"Yes. I'm needed in Paris urgently. You know I hate to leave London and as I've only just returned I am hesitant but this can't be put off."
"And what of London's latest living-dead? I couldn't stop him when he was human; he will have to be your responsibility now." Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him again, conveying his disdain at Lestrade's plans.
"I know all that!" he snapped back." "I'm not shirking my duties."
"Aren't you?" Mycroft asked pointedly. Lestrade snarled and fought off a smirk when the other man took a small step away from him.
"I don't believe my leaving will be a problem. I'll only be gone a few days anyway."
Mycroft still looked wary – well – his equivalent of wary.
"I wouldn't leave if I thought there would be trouble. You know that," Lestrade said consolingly. Mycroft nodded in agreement. He did know that.
"I take it you will begin your hunt when you return?"
"Definitely. I'm going to enjoying ripping off his head."
They shared a smile, their hidden bloodlust revealed.
"Are sure it is safe for you to go?" Mycroft couldn't help but ask. "You know I worry for more than just the safety of London."
Lestrade let out a deep breath. He knew what Mycroft was really worried about; he was worried as well.
"Yes. I don't believe he'll make a move yet. He'll use this time to build tension, scare people into acting rashly."
"And Sherlock? You do not think Moriarty will make a move on him?"
"Not yet. My guess, he'll drive Sherlock mad with wondering; is this case because of him? When will he act? Where is he now? You'll need to keep a close eye on him. Though I doubt Moriarty will do anything, Sherlock's a loose cannon, and others may hurt him out of fear."
Mycroft now let out a sigh and Lestrade fought the instinct to offer comfort.
"With this new information, I worry about him here without you."
"I'm not gonna start babysitting him! He barely tolerates my presence as it is."
"But he can count on you and go to you. I know he doesn't but now is not the time for him to be unprotected in London."
"Well, what do you plan to do?" Lestrade tried very hard not to raise his voice. He didn't need to be overheard (not that it was very likely) arguing on a rooftop with the British Government. It would raise far too many questions.
"Why, send him with you of course."
"What?!" he screeched – in a totally manly manner.
"It makes sense," Mycroft replied, pulling out his phone and beginning to walk away. "If he goes to Paris with you, you can keep an eye on him and Moriarty is less likely to act here in London because the object of his obsession won't witness it."
"I'm not going to Paris to play babysitter! I have business that an ignorant human can't be involved in!"
"I am sure Sherlock and John will keep themselves entertained while you work."
"Sure they will. They're bound to find some trouble. Wait, Sherlock and John?"
"Of course. My brother cannot go without his blogger."
"And Mary?"
"I am sure she will not begrudge the Baker Street boys a few days together."
Lestrade wanted to snap and tell Mycroft exactly what he thought of all this but forced the anger down. It was a good plan, for Sherlock would be safer in Paris. No one wanted to kill him there. Probably.
"Fine. I'll organise it so that they stay in the same place as me but you have to get us all tickets. And tell your brother that he has to leave London."
" Very well," Mycroft said, tapping out a final command into his phone. "I will send you the details Gregory."
"Yeah, you do that," Lestrade muttered, as Mycroft left the roof. He stayed where he was for a while, watching Mycroft's car pull away and drive him home. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and allowed the sounds of the city to flow around him again.
Cars. People. Fights, Celebrations. Silence.
He opened his eyes, his prey located, and jumped.
