And again, thanks to Sky Writes :)

Chapter 10

John was still unsure why Sherlock was so confident that Lestrade would be able to help them. In any case, his friend wasn't half as downcast as John would have suspected him to be after the events at King's Cross.

They had met again some minutes ago near Baker Street and had walked together to their former flat which they were now looking at from the dark shadows of a house entrance a few houses away. John noticed that Sherlock had changed his disguise, although he wondered if that would be enough to fool their adversaries. And he wondered what else Sherlock might have done during the afternoon besides changing his outfit.

"Any news?" he therefore asked quietly when they had made themselves as comfortable as possible on the porch of their former neighbours' house.

Sherlock first shot glances up and down the road and houses before he, in a very low voice, hissed back, "Nothing worth mentioning."

John realised that he had chosen a bad moment to ask. Sherlock's agitation had again increased immensely as they had neared Baker Street, and John could see why: if someone wanted to attack Sherlock, he might very probably do so here near their former flat. It was true that Sherlock had found a new disguise, but John could still be easily recognised and so possibly unintentionally give away his friend.

"Quiet now!" Sherlock suddenly hissed although John hadn't said another word. "There he is."

John looked hard and as the shadow drew nearer, he too recognised it as Greg Lestrade. Sometimes, he really felt inclined to consider it treason to any medical knowledge to call the sharpness of Sherlock's senses human.

Sherlock didn't reveal himself to Lestrade at once; he first observed their surroundings. John did so too, but he couldn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary. There was no one who seemed to have a special interest in Lestrade and thus would have been likely to be spying on him. He kept his tongue, though. Sherlock's latest demonstration had reminded him that even his senses couldn't compete with the famous detective's.

"Stay here," Sherlock finally said and left the recess.

John watched him get nearer to Lestrade with his cane and those slow, heavy movements that suited the old, bent-over man he was imitating. When he reached him, he talked to him and made gestures to the niche John was still hiding in with the gestures of an old, excited man. Lestrade played along and accompanied him.

"Hello, John," he said, though he made quite a gloomy appearance.

"Greg. Any news?"

"Yeah, but probably not the kind you might want to hear."

"What is it?"

"We searched Parker's apartment, just as you said. But we couldn't find anything."

John didn't want to believe it. "Really, nothing?" he asked as if that could change the result.

Lestrade shook his head. "Donovan and I searched the whole place. And we were thorough. There's nothing to nail him with."

John inhaled deeply. "That's… unexpected." He had just barely managed not to say 'a catastrophe', but a glance at Sherlock's thoughtful face revealed that his friend was downcast enough and didn't need to hear such remarks.

"It was a possibility," Sherlock said very quietly, but also very earnestly.

Nobody said a word after that and the silence stretched uncomfortably until John's desire for something to happen became too strong to be suppressed further. "So – what now?" He looked from Sherlock to Greg and back again, but neither of them seemed to have any idea of how they might proceed.

"I had to release Parker on bail," Lestrade said eventually, but it wasn't really the kind of answer John had been hoping for. "I'll give you another 24 hours, Sherlock, to get Moriarty's gang. I will also try to find some evidence, but if we can't find anything, I really don't know what to do. We'll meet tomorrow at the same time at the house where we arrested Parker. Can you promise me you'll be there?"

John noticed that Greg couldn't even look Sherlock in the eyes and it struck him that if they couldn't find anything within the next 24 hours, Lestrade would be compelled to arrest Sherlock for faking his death and for whatever charges would result from his fraudulent career as a detective. And with his arrest, his chances of ever proving his innocence would become immensely slim.

"I'll be there," Sherlock said very calmly. "What does Sergeant Donovan say about all this?"

"I told her it's my responsibility. And I persuaded her to give us some more time."

"And she agreed?"

"Eventually." Lestrade looked around as if he was afraid they were being watched. "I have to go now. We don't really have much time, do we?"

"Thank you, Lestrade."

Lestrade's only answer was an impatient gesture with his hand. "Good luck," he said before he disappeared into the night.

"You didn't tell him about the hand over at King's Cross today," John observed after some moments.

"He didn't ask."

"I thought you were going to ask for his help?"

"What could he do anyway? We don't know anything about the man Moran sent."

"And, so why did we meet Lestrade?"

"To stay informed. And we did get some interesting news, don't you think?"

John snorted. Oh yes, and what news! But by now, John was at a loss at detecting what confirmed with Sherlock's plans and what didn't. "Did you foresee this? That they wouldn't find anything at Parker's apartment?"

"Well, it's not something I was hoping for," Sherlock said and John found that it sounded genuine. "Although I must admit that it gives us something to work on."

John's eyebrows went up. "It does?"

"Oh yes. But this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it."

John knew where this was headed, but that didn't mean that he would consent to it. "Oh no, Sherlock, not again –"

"We'll meet tomorrow night at Thames Road. You –"

"No, Sherlock," John said resolutely. This time he wouldn't give way to his friend's stupid ego trips. "I want to know what you're going to do. And I want to help you."

"And you're sure that they go together?"

John didn't react to the slightly ridiculing tone, but stayed firm. "Quite sure, yes."

He felt, rather than actually saw, Sherlock looking at him hard before he heard him say, "Come on," and followed him away from Baker Street through the night streets of London.