A/N Not sure if this is a trigger or not, but just in fair warning this chapter is about a school under attack. Nobody gets killed or shot, but I thought I would give fair warning just in case. There are mentions of the other uncles, but this one is Lestrade-centric.


"Sir, we've got a call from the schools," Sergeant Donovan entered Detective Inspector Lestrade's office without bothering to knock.

"Not my division."

"Sir, you want this," Sergeant Donovan said, watching her boss carefully. It had taken a long time to get used to The Fre…er, Sherlock hanging around the office and helping with cases again. John marrying Mary and having a daughter had (oddly enough) helped. Seeing Sherlock Holmes, the world's biggest git, bend over backwards (and sideways and frontways and ways that she didn't know was possible unless you were a yoga instructor) to please the adorable girl had softened the hearts of even the staunchest Sherlock-haters.

"What is it?" Lestrade asked, leaning forward now and setting his paperwork aside.

"We've got a call from St. Angelina's. Five armed men were seen entering the school. There have been shots fired and all classes are in lockdown. The Westminister Squad is already en route."

"You mean…oh shit," Lestrade cursed jumping from his desk and racing for the door. "Mycroft probably knows, but ring him up regardless and tell him he's in charge of getting ahold of Sherlock and keeping him from running in and mucking everything up. I don't care if he's a consulting detective, I don't want him or John anywhere near this mess. And for once, I want to be informed about what he knows so there's not another bloody interdepartmental mess to deal with."

"You've got it boss," Donovan nodded, whipping out her mobile.


"You made good time Lestrade," Andrea Peyton, the leader of the Westminister Squad regarded the detective inspector and his team as they entered the school.

"Hit all the green lights for once. What's the status?" Lestrade asked immediately, having no patience for any pleasantries.

"Three of the five shooters have been apprehended, two are still at large. My team is currently canvasing the school trying to find them," Andrea explained, nodding to a map of the school that she had rolled out.

"My squad will join the search."

"Perfect. Take these corridors," Peyton instructed pointing to a section of hallways.

"Right. Let's go," Lestrade spared his own squad the briefest glance before they followed him at a trot through the school.

They worked their way down the hallway, moving quickly and efficiently. It was only at the third corridor that they managed to apprehend one of their targets. The idiot had dropped his guard while trying to check a classroom for potential hostages.

"Where's the other? The leader?" Lestrade demanded roughly, shoving the man against a row of lockers. He recognized the schmuck from a gang raid that Sherlock and John had assisted with last week. Several members, including the leader, had unfortunately escaped. It was expected that they would pop up again eventually, but no one would have guessed them to be the type to attack a school.

"I…I don't know…"

"Wrong answer," Donovan snarled, other members of the squad crowding in as well

"Down the hallway, aiming for the fifth room in the eighth corridor," he babbled, terrified.

"Why?" Lestrade growled, tightening his grip on the collar.

"The Watson brat! Wanted to use her as leverage!" the man choked out, his eyes bulging with terror. The blood momentarily drained from Lestrade's face before returning in a wave of fury. With an impressive display of strength and prowess that reminded everyone on his squad of one of the many reasons why he was in charge, DI Gregory Lestrade spun the man around, handcuffed him, and forced him to the ground.

"Keep an eye on him, Hopkins," Lestrade ordered before turning away. Without even waiting for the others, Lestrade raced to Little Elle's classroom, heart pounding in his chest as he feared the worst.

Lestrade's heart rate increased as he saw that the door to the classroom was wide open. He and the other officers slowed down, moving quietly with their guns drawn. Mentally Lestrade prepared for the worst, vowing that if anything had happened to his niece or any of the other children that there would be hell to pay.

The four officers peered around the door slowly at first, then stepped through the entryway without fear.

All of the students except one were huddled in the corner behind their teacher, all of them staring in wide-eyed wonder at Eleanor Juliette Watson who was next to her teacher's desk. A man was laying at her feet, knocked out cold, while she was standing over him with her arms crossed and a frown etched on her face.

A few strands had come loose from her blonde braid and she looked exhausted, but overall Elle was looking to be in better shape than the unconscious man at her feet.

"Hey Uncle Lestrade," Elle looked up to grin tiredly at her uncle, dropping the scowl. "Took your time getting here."

Lestrade didn't know whether to laugh, cry, smile, shout in anger, or just drop to his knees to say a word of thanks that his niece was all right. Time would tell how she was mentally and emotionally handling a near kidnapping and threat to her life and school, but Lestrade could settle with her being physically safe for now. He swiftly moved forward, handcuffing the almost kidnapper.

"Well you know what we always told you," Lestrade smiled up at her, a little slow in his response.

"Call Uncle Mycroft first," Elle nodded knowingly. "Hey, do you have an ice pack with you? I bruised my knuckles punching this lout and they're really starting to hurt."

"Did you remember to keep your thumb tucked and aim your punch?" Lestrade asked seriously, standing up and taking her hand in his, examining it closely. He may not be a doctor like John, but he had thrown enough punches in his life to know how much force could cause a break in the hand.

"What am I, nine?" Elle scoffed. "Duh. I just hit him really hard in the gut. He tried to throw me over the desk in retaliation. I might have some bruised ribs from that, but nothing broken. So I hit him on the back of the head with my teacher's mug. And my fist. And I might have tossed the teacher's edition of the textbook at him. My ribs really hurt, okay!?"

"Did you get hit over the head? Was anyone else here harmed?" Lestrade directed his gaze to the teacher who had stepped forward cautiously, the other students remaining at the back of the classroom anxiously.

"No. They just wanted Ellie. I tried to stop her, protect them, but…"

"It's completely understandable, ma'am. Miss Watson is trained for special circumstances such as this. You did the right thing keeping the other children safe," Lestrade reassured her.

"I'm sorry for disobeying Ms. Hazael," Ellie spoke up, stepping over the unconscious man at her feet to approach her teacher. "But it's like my uncle said, I've been trained for these sorts of situations. And I apologize for breaking your tea mug, by the way. I'll be sure to replace it. And I think I may have gotten blood on your desk. Sorry about that, but don't worry, I know a really easy way to sanitize and get blood out of wood."

"If everyone's unharmed, maybe you could all take a seat? We'll be bringing in a specialist to address everyone and there's some paperwork that we need to fill out. All of your parents will be called for you and you will be free to go as soon as we are finished. Thank you in advance for your cooperation," Lestrade addressed the class as members of his team removed the handcuffed man from the classroom.

Moving slowly, the students claimed their seats, even Ellie. Although as she walked past them there was a subtle hush, a new wave of interest directed at the girl everyone had previously dismissed as a nosy bookworm.

Elle pretended to not notice the stares as she pulled a notebook out and turned to a fresh page. She paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before proceeding to write down everything that had occurred.


Lestrade and Elle waited until the last anxious parents arrived to claim their child. Both breathed a heavy sigh of relief when it was confirmed that none of the students or staff had been harmed during the day's danger. A review of the building found that the only damage had occurred when one of the men had shot out the windows in warning. A company had already been called and they would be in to fix the windows the next day. School was cancelled for the remainder of the week with therapists being called in to be present on Monday should anyone need to talk.

Elle leaned against her uncle as she watched her teacher leave.

"Today was long," she sighed. Lestrade nodded in silent agreement. Though he was exhausted, he was unspeakably thankful for how the day had worked out.

"Come on Elle, let's get you home," Lestrade smiled down at his Little Elle.

"Uncle 'Strade, do you think that could we maybe get some ice cream?" she asked as they exited the building.

"What, you think you did something special today? Saving your classmates, sacrificing yourself for your friends and teacher, beating the living daylights out of a man at least twice your age and four times your height, and all before the police arrived?" Greg asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Watch it with the height," Elle warned, grinning up at her uncle, who really did tower over her. He smiled back down at her, grinning cheekily.

"Do you want a chocolate or strawberry cone?"

"Chocolate, please."

"Anything for my girl. Have I ever told you that you're my favorite niece?"

"I'm your only niece, but thanks," Elle giggled as Lestrade wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her tight.

"You know the rest of the family's going to be worried sick about you," Lestrade commented offhandedly. Never mind that they had called everyone to let them know that everything was fine. They were still going to be worried sick when Ellie got home.

"Nah, Uncle Myc's got this place wired, cameras everywhere. He probably already knows I'm safe and has told the rest of the family. I wouldn't be surprised if he saves the footage from when I beat that jerk up and shows it when I graduate," Elle rolled her eyes.

Lestrade chose not to reply to that statement, instead holding her a little closer. Elle was no longer a little girl, but that didn't mean he didn't still feel overprotective of her at times. While there was no doubt in his mind that Eleanor Juliette Watson could more than take care of herself, Greg Lestrade also knew that no one in their strange family would survive it if anything ever did happen to her.