Chapter 11

Mala in Se

(Evil in itself)

Greg Lestrade

Greg felt a chill run down his spine as he watched the news footage. There were now four dead priests in four nights each from a different church. There was no sign of traumatic injury and the bodies were being examined to discover the cause of death. Greg knew deep in his bones that this was no coincidence. Something dark was afoot. Greg debated his next move. He was not well known amongst the priesthood. His order was small and secretive. He was currently housed in Westminster's rectory, although he did not perform the traditional duties of a parish priest. He did not say mass routinely, or hear confessions. Greg couldn't remember the last time that he had performed a wedding or baptism. Few in the large congregation would recognize his face and even fewer knew his name. It was safer that way. He was busy hunting the darkness using his talents in other ways. He performed blessings, just not the traditional kind. He routinely performed exorcisms as well as last rites.

Greg sighed and debated whom to call. Sherlock came to mind immediately, but this seemed too close to home. Personal. Greg decided instead to call in a favor and dialed. "Molly, It's Greg. I'm calling about the dead priests."

"Oi, so sorry to hear it, Greg. Were they close friends of yours?" Molly asked. Greg sighed and debated how much to disclose. What the hell? Molly already knew the bulk of it. Go all in.

"Nay, I've only met one of them in passing, but I have a bad feeling about this, it all seems a bit off and what's more, it hits a bit too close to home, if you know what I mean." Greg confided. Molly hummed thoughtfully.

"I've got the bodies in the morgue. I haven't done the autopsies yet." She admitted. "Have you called Sherlock?"

"Not yet. I wanted to have a look myself first. You know how Sherlock can be." Greg said with a sigh. Molly mirrored it with one of her own.

"Feel free Greg, but I have a feeling that Sherlock will beat you to it. This will be on his radar. The mere possibility of you being killed will be enough to motivate him." Molly insisted. Greg laughed.

"I hardly think that Sherlock is at all that concerned over my well being." Greg said somewhat ruefully. Sherlock Holmes preferred to work alone whenever possible. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me. He had once shouted the words at Greg after Greg had saved him from a case that had gone bad. Greg shuddered as he remembered that night.

Poltergeist. Dark spirits. They were extremely tricky. Sherlock should have come to him, but for whatever reason, he had decided to go after it alone. Spirits were immune to spells and wards, but not impervious to certain rituals. They could be forced back into the afterlife and out of limbo, but few would go willingly. Greg respected the hunter greatly, but there were some things that Sherlock just wasn't capable of. Banishing a poltergeist was one of them. It took a very strong median. Greg just happened to be one. Greg's great grandmother had the sight. She was a Romani gypsy, who fell in love and married a Frenchman. Though his parents never said a word, Greg always suspected that his father was clairvoyant. He always chalked his eerie instincts up to luck or a simple "gut feeling" but Greg always suspected that it was more than that. He would never know for certain. His father had died when he was a teenager, just a year before his mother was killed.

Greg had always felt different even as a young child. He would talk to children that no one else could see. He hadn't known what they were at first, but he soon learned. Spirits. His parents had shrugged it off as an over active imagination and Greg quickly learned to keep his conversations private. He had no desire to be admitted to the psych ward. As he grew older, he learned control and how to shield. After he was ordained, his power and knowledge grew even stronger. His natural psychic abilities gave him a major advantage in his order and in the beginning he often called upon lost spirits for aid, those that had not fallen prey to the darkness, and in return he would free them from limbo. Greg rarely dropped his shields now. After that night when Sherlock had nearly been killed, Greg had decided that the risks were just too great. Once you opened a door to the afterlife, all kinds of things could slip through.

Sherlock had gone to investigate a haunted house. Poltergeists often attached themselves to locations. Anyone who stepped into what they deemed to be their territory was likely to become a victim. Greg could still see Sherlock fighting as the poltergeist had attempted to feed on his soul. While not able to fully possess a human like a demon, poltergeists could still cause irreparable harm, draining a soul of it's light until there was nothing left but an empty husk. This left the victim catatonic. That night had nearly killed both of them. When Greg had opened a portal to banish the poltergeist another had nearly slipped through. It had taken every bit of Greg's power to force them both back into the afterlife. Greg could still remember the fear and relief that he had felt as he realized how close they had both come to ruin. Greg could still see the look of shock and shame on Sherlock's face after it was done. Greg had briefly felt a bit of pride at having kept something secret from the great Sherlock Holmes, but that feeling had vanished when Sherlock had opened his mouth.

"What the hell was that?" Sherlock had spat the accusation vehemently.

Greg had felt hurt and angry. No gratitude. Not even a thank you, only prideful anger at having missed something about Greg's past. "That was me saving your arse! Why didn't you come to me? I could have helped. That's what friends do!" Greg had shouted.

Sherlock had sneered at him with a harsh retort. "I don't have friends! Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." Greg had seethed and replied in a heated voice.

"You machine! After everything we've been through, you really don't care?" Greg had rubbed his hands over his eyes in frustration hearing Sherlock's reply but not seeing his face.

"Caring won't help me protect people. Caring won't make me a better hunter." Greg hadn't believed his ears and just shook his head in disbelief.

Greg was pulled from his thoughts by Molly's voice. "Greg that's not true. He's closer to you than to anyone else." Molly insisted. Well that certainly wasn't saying much. Greg's thoughts briefly drifted to the mysterious Dr. Watson. There was something about him that Greg was missing. He was sure of it. He made a noted to ask

Sherlock about it the next time they were alone.

"I'm not sure about that, Molly, but I will take you up on your offer when can we meet?" Greg asked.