A Pact of Protection

Geoff felt as if he'd been sucker punched. He grabbed the file and flipped through it quickly, hoping like hell that...

"Of course John wasn't in London when it happened," Sherlock's scorn was more withering than a flamethrower and harsher than an artic gale, "Have you met the man? I thought that you considered him a friend, certainly your behavioural cues have indicated this and John thought so too when I asked him..."

"Three years ago, Sally Donovan lost an Uncle. She never said and I never asked, but there were drugs involved somehow. This file is her Uncles file," Lestrade replied, "If I hadn't seen with my own eyes the way magic affected her, I'd have thought her a witch of some sort."

"The victim's last name is Pierce," Sherlock responded, "And that's her mothers' maiden name, of course. That doesn't explain Dimmock's interest in the four other files."

"No," Lestrade mused, "It doesn't. And he didn't say boo when I took the files, either."

"Dimmock," Sherlock leapt for the laptop - John's laptop - and fired it up, fingers flickering over the keyboard with lightning rapidity. Geoff frowned back at the map, content to let the other man invade his colleague's privacy. Plausible deniability was always preferable when it came to Sherlock and his hi-jinx. The map held no shapes that Geoff could discern, not chronologically, spatially or even geometrically.

"Your conclusion?" Sherlock asked as he came to stand at Geoff's shoulder, making the older man feel as if he was being tested by a particularly difficult teacher. He hated that feeling. It always made him want to punch someone. John would not approve if he punched Sherlock.

"More data required," Geoff shrugged, "If there is a pattern, I can't see it."

"Hmmm," Sherlock mumbled, which Geoff took as agreement. He tried not to let the shock of the occasion cause a heart attack, "Dimmock has no reason that I can find to be interested in these four files - at least no mundane reason."

"You think he's a warlock or a mage," Lestrade shook his head, thinking back to the last case involving magic: a case that had nearly cost John Watson his life, "Great. Dimmock was on loan to the Sutherland police at the time those two kids tried to summon a demon. He was out of town for all of those crime scenes."

"But not for Mr Pierce's death," Sherlock crossed his arms, squinting at the map in aggravation, "He was in uniform back then."

Geoff picked the file back up and went through it carefully, confirming that Dimmock wasn't mentioned in any of the reports. That didn't mean the man hadn't been involved, just that he'd had no official presence in the case. He was not naive enough to protest that Dimmock couldn't have been involved on the grounds that he was a policeman, which made it his job to catch criminals, not be criminals. He would never say it to Sherlock, but as with any large policing force, there were always bound to be bad apples in the barrel, just as there were in the magical community. He'd taken John's information to heart, because they both had the same problem.

"So to sum up - we don't know who, why, where, what or even if," Sherlock threw himself onto the couch, "The only lead we have is Dimmock, and he won't tell us about Magic because we're Mundane."

"He'd tell John," Geoff frowned, refusing to whine about how unfair it was that he couldn't just lock the other man up and throw away the key: also refusing to whine about being excluded from the club. He realised that Sherlock had done still and turned to look at the other man. Sherlock was in fact staring at him as if he was a prime steak and Sherlock a starving man.

"That's the smartest thing you've said in weeks," Sherlock breathed, "He will tell John."

"John's not here, Sherlock," Geoff pointed out, promptly ruining the proud look that Sherlock was giving him.

"His phone and his laptop are," Sherlock shook his head, "Honestly!"

While the thin genius pounced after both items in question, Geoff took a moment to think about what that meant. John didn't exactly tote his laptop around with him, but the phone was always to hand - mainly because of Sherlock's rather insane texting habits. John had once said that Sherlock texted him more in a week than he spoke to him if the mood was right. Lestrade couldn't imagine putting up with that; his wife certainly wouldn't.

"Send these words, exactly," Sherlock handed John's phone to the DI, as John didn't have Dimmock's number in his phone. Geoff pulled out his own, texted Dimmock's number to John, saved the contact and then called up the right menu, all while Sherlock fairly vibrated beside him with impatience. The thin genius had already sent the email he'd been typing off - doubtless from John's account to Dimmock's public one, warning him that a text was incoming. It made sense to do so, after all John would not want to discuss Magic on the Yard's email server.

"Ok, now send: 'Conclusions on the four files' and sign it 'JW'," Sherlock instructed and whirled away to the kitchen while Geoff did it. From the rattles and bumps it was apparent he was making tea, and when John's text alert went off the curly haired man appeared with two cups of tea, one of which he stuffed into Geoff's hand as he snatched the phone back.

"Bugger," was the bitter reply, and Geoff caught the phone as it was tossed back to him. The message on the screen read 'Not your business, Holmes'. Geoff was impressed that the DS had seen through the ruse. He sipped his tea, only mildly surprised to find it the way he liked and then glanced at his watch.

"Better to deal with him in the morning, Sherlock. It's nearing midnight now," Geoff slurped a last mouthful and waved the half empty mug at the other man, "Thanks for the tea. Be at the office at eight and we'll have a crack at Dimmock in person."

Sherlock nodded, huddled in his armchair with the tea balanced on up drawn knees, a faintly forlorn look on his face. It was slightly reminiscent of a child bereft of a parent and Geoff had to be stern with himself to avoid responding to that. Instead, he finished the tea on the way to the kitchen and let himself out.

As he entered his own house, with a cautious weather eye for practitioners of magic, the phone started to ring. Immediate thoughts of accidents involving his wife, or the kids that were staying with their maternal grandparents this week, began cycling through his mind, pushing Sherlock and his problems clean out of them. It took an act of will to actually pick the phone up, he was dreading the news on the other end so badly, which was why it came as such a shock when the cultured tones of the other Holmes brother wafted from the receiver.

"I take it Sherlock was not too rude, Inspector."

"He's devastated," Geoff replied before his internal filters could realign themselves, "He says you're refusing him help."

"Quite right," Mycroft Holmes replied, "Have you realised what the phone in the flat means?"

"John's trying to protect Sherlock from something," Geoff leaned against the wall tiredly, in no mood for games. He'd worked that out at once. With the phone, there was a chance that Sherlock would find a way to track John, even without his brothers' assistance. There was also a good chance that John had left his wallet somewhere safe too - relying on a store of cash or the charity of strangers to survive while he was gone.

"Correct," Mycroft replied, "I think you know how I feel about John Watson, Inspector, however when he came to me and requested that I refuse to help my brother for his own good... that was one action I could endorse."

"So what, you're going to stop me from helping Sherlock too? Because I'm telling you now, I won't," Geoff replied, and there was a faint chuckle on the other end.

"Oh I'm not so foolish as to believe that you would be disloyal to my brother," Mycroft replied, "But I am warning you that you will be held responsible for him."

The dial tone sounded suddenly in Geoff's ear, but he didn't hang up straight away, wanting one thing perfectly clear to the man he knew was still listening on the other end, BT dial tone or not.

"John beat you to it, Mr Holmes: it's always been understood between us that Sherlock needs a keeper."

TBC

Disclaimer - characters and setting as depicted in BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.