Dear readers, thank you for your patience. I'm just back from beautiful Botswana and South Africa but here is - as promised - the next chapter.


The 4th Time

Mycroft Holmes' knuckles had turned almost white from holding his phone in a tight grip. He had been supposed to be at Heathrow ten minutes ago to pick up the PM but had got stuck in what must have been London's largest traffic jam since the onset of human thought. An icy rain was bringing half of London to a screeching halt, and even the M 25 was frozen.

The limousine had finally managed to leave the M 25 and was edging its way through the roundabout that lead into Airport Way. But just a little further an accident just had turned two cars and a lorry into an obscure sculpture of metal. The road was efficiently closed and it would take at least half an hour or longer to untangle the mess.

Mycroft's phone rang, and when he hung up a minute later his day had been saved. The PM who was coming back from Denmark wouldn't make it until much later that day because of the weather conditions. He would meet with Mycroft the following day. The meaning of that news took a while to sink in. He had the rest of the day off. Mycroft blinked and tried to remember the last time he had had half a day off. He shook his head. It had been a while, that was for sure. He told his driver he could relax, that he was in no hurry anymore and that he would liked to be driven home. A hot shower, dinner, a glass of wine, a good book, an open fire. The sky was the limit that afternoon.

Lowering the window of the limousine and sticking his head out for a quick look he could see that the fire brigade and a tow-car had arrived to clear the street. Shivering from the cold he pulled his head back inside and close the window again. Making himself comfortable Mycroft allowed his eyes to close for a while.

oOo

Gregory Lestrade was in a foul mood. For once nobody haunted the streets of London, murdering people. Unless one counted those who willingly used their car in these weather conditions. He had been sitting in his office with a cup of coffee that had once been actually hot instead of lukewarm, leafing through some paper work, when the Senior Chief Superintendent had walked in. The Senior Chief Superintendent had volunteered half of NSY to help the traffic police. And now Greg found himself in a patrol car trying to get to his designated area at Heathrow Airport.

At least the road leading from the M 25 to Airport Way had been gritted so he could actually accelerate without sending the car into an immediate spin. Not that he had to do much accelerating. If anything he inched forward every other minute. And that had been before the accident. He tried to rein his impatience. It wasn't his fault he was stuck in the gridlocked roundabout.

Just a few cars down he caught sight of a familiar looking black limousine. Greg blinked in surprise, when an even more familiar ginger-haired head was stuck out of a side window, only to disappear inside again quickly. He hadn't seen Mycroft Holmes in recent weeks and realized that he missed him, not least for his wit. Greg was just considering abandoning the car and walking over for a chat when he noticed a massive SUV coming in from Horton Road.

The driver obviously had lost control over his vehicle that came careening towards the roundabout. Under no circumstances would the driver be able to avoid collision. The SUV would skid into the waiting cars, most likely into the limousine Mycroft Holmes was sitting in. Mycroft's driver would have no chance to prevent a collision, for the waiting cars stood bumper to bumper. Without giving his actions another thought, Greg accelerated the patrol car and changed onto the left shoulder to intercept the SUV.

He managed to get right between the SUV and the limousine before the SUV crashed into the patrol car's side. The patrol car was shoved against the limousine but the occupants of that vehicle were only shaken up. The patrol car was another matter altogether. The SUV's reinforced bumper had smashed right into the passenger's door, distorting the whole vehicle. The airbags had been triggered, cushioning the impact for Greg only a little. Especially as he'd been knocked sideways.

Fortunately for Greg, people from the fire brigade were nearby to provide immediate help. They took their heavy tools and began cutting away the car's door that was badly twisted from the impact. Within fifteen minutes Greg, who was barely conscious, was pulled out of the patrol car, and put into an ambulance.

Instead of taking a hot shower and enjoying a quiet evening at home, Mycroft Holmes spent the rest of the day in hospital, hovering over the Inspector who was treated for a light concussion, bruises and a seriously sprained right wrist.