Chapter 12- A Life's mission

Lestrade had the good grace to look sheepish.

'Don't look at me like that,' the Scotland Yard detective snapped impatiently, 'When you took off into the night without a word, I sent some men over to pull your mate out of his place for questioning.'

The detective winced as Sherlock placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

'Go on!'

The Inspector was starting to get worried now. Something wasn't right and he cleared his mind, trying to get the facts out as precisely as Sally told him.

'He refused to come with my officers, and then he decided to take a swing at Anderson. It took about three of the fellows to wrestle him to the floor,' Lestrade recounted unhappily, 'they said he went crazy when Anderson stepped into his rooms at the hostel.'

Sherlock was mumbling frantically under his breath, as he struggled to get his priorities in order. This wasn't happening!

'Please God', he prayed in his mind, 'please, please help me.'

'Lestrade, you moron! Watson's sick. He has PTSD* and who knows what else!' Sherlock yelled out, as he threw off his red shock blanket. 'Give me your keys, I have to go to him. He must be terrified. He'll listen to me. Lestrade, your car keys now!'

'Hang on!' the Inspector shouted agitatedly, as he turned Sherlock around and pointed a way off. 'Calm down! He's right there. There, sitting on the pavement!'

Sherlock gaped in shock as John looked up curiously, and calmly waved his paper cup of coffee at him.

Was it?

Oh yes…

Who else could it be?

Someone with military training, who knew the particulars of the case and just happened to be here, at the right moment?

'He quieted down right quick, when we explained that you were missing,' the Inspector revealed, 'it was he that figured out the bit about the pink lady's phone and that's how we found you. It was pretty amazing.'

Reacting on autopilot, Sherlock returned John's wave.

'Should I go over and apologise?' Lestrade said worriedly, 'I didn't know he was sick. Christ, I hope he doesn't sue the Yard.'

Immediately, Sherlock put out a hand to stop the Inspector from moving forward, 'No, I'll take it from here. However, if you or one of your incompetent officers ever touches him again, I will make it my life's mission to kill you all; and that goes double for Anderson.'

Lestrade raised an exasperated eyebrow but said nothing. As he walked away, the Detective Inspector spread out a general order that Watson was to be left in Sherlock's care.

Anote- Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)* is an anxiety disorder that may develop after a person is exposed to one or more traumatic events, such as sexual assault, serious injury or the threat of death.