Chapter 9: If One Things For Certain~

Phillip Anderson didn't want to believe his ears.

He had heard every word of Donovan's conversation with Sherlock. Had heard her use the affectionate nickname "Freak" so he knew exactly who she was talking to.

Funny how she had always been able to look right through him. How she could be totally oblivious to his presence.. See him as her little 'boy toy', got what she wanted from him, and then completely 'deleted' him from her awareness , to borrow one of Sherlock's expressions.

It was even more ironic how he had allowed it to happen. How he had allowed her to play upon his feelings, and seduce him, even to the point of influencing him to go along with the sabotaging of Sherlock Holmes.

The man was innocent. What was even more impossible than being as clever as he certainly was, was being able to fake such genius, for so long a time. Looking back now, such and idea was absolutely -laughably-absurd.

Anderson decided within that hour that he had enough of Sherlock's blood on his hands.

If one thing was for certain, Phillip Anderson would NOT be making the same mistake twice.

So, face made of snow, hands shaking and feeling thin as autumn leaves, feverish as Indian summer, Anderson made for Greg's office.

"Oi, now, what's with you? You look like you've seen a ghost?"

"No..."he laughed in reply, smiling to try to calm himself. But his face twisted as if with palsy, and Greg sat up, saying ,low as a growl in his throat,

"Phil, you alright, mate?"

"No, I think...I may have evidence that Sergeant Donovan..." he swallows..."Is trying to bury one..."

"Come again?!" Greg asked, utterly confused.

Anderson licked his lips..."Sir,...I overheard a very troubling conversation over mobile between Sally Donovan and who I was to understand ,because she addressed him as "Freak", to be...Sherlock Holmes..."

Greg blinked, it still being flat-out weird, the thought of any one doing anything with Sherlock who,as of about 2 weeks ago, was dead and in the ground. He'd been certain, he'd visited said ground, put roses on the grave once, when John Watson had been too sick to go...

"Donovan didn't ever just chat with Sherlock before, not a proper conversation anyway. Donovan's part of the reason that he..." Greg swallowed, and closed his eyes, unable to finish that sentence.

"So what in God's name is she doing having a full-length conversation with him via mobile?!"

"Talking some kind of business ,sir. It didn't sound right..." and then Anderson relayed the message exactly as he'd heard it.

No sooner had the account left Anderson' s lips than did John Watson call Greg ,in as near a panic as a soldier comes.

"John?"

"MY GOD, GREG! SO HELP ME IF I DON'T END UP TEARING THE STREETS UP LIKE THREADS WITH MY BARE HANDS! HE'S GONE!"

"What?! Who's gone, John?!"

"I KNEW it...I knew by the look of the incisions in his wounds..."

"What wounds?! Who's gone, John?"

"Sherlock! He's gone. I think he climbed out the window! Making deals with the Devil again, so it seems. Trying to save me-as usual-ach dear God, HELP ME GOD, I'm supposed to be protecting him! It's supposed to be over now. You know, he was tortured. FOR 2 BLEEDING YEARS STRAIGHT! Trying to keep us at home, you, me, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Molly Hooper...all of us...safe from Moriarty's thugs. He's going to get himself killed, Greg! They've done things to him what would make Jack the Ripper blanch a Christmas white, and Satan cry like a little girl. They'll out do themselves one day. It won't be enough to watch him bleed a little. They'll bleed him bone dry..."

Greg's mouth had gone dry, like deserts on the dark side of the moon. He swallowed, looking at Anderson wide-eyed.

"John."

"Yeah."

"I think I've already got a lead..."

"It's Donovan isn't it? Mycroft and I thought as much."

"Sherlock and Sally have just had a mobile chat ,according to Anderson here. If we could get to the bottom of it...well, we'll probably figure out what the business was, and be able to bail Sherlock out of it."

"Things are never that easy. I'm going to look for him. Call me when you find something."

"What if he comes back to the flat before that?"

"We'll cover more ground if I'm out searching. I'll come back to the flat periodically to check and see if he came home. Can't alert Mrs. Hudson ,and Mycroft is already gone-though I texted him to run a full surveillance sweep."

"Sounds like we're already two steps of them...whoever they are."

"Don't count on it."