Chapter Fifty One

"Lestrade." Mycroft greeted brusquely over the phone.

"Mycroft." Lestrade responded, in a tone just as clipped.

"There is a corpse that I would like to have removed from Bart's Morgue quickly." Mycroft explained quickly. "The name is Sulejmani-..."

"Anthea's been with Irene!" Lestrade blurted out in one great breath that he had been holding.

There was a brief silence on the other end. "Quite. I see that this has been weighing heavily on your mind."

"No, you don't understand." Lestrade continued over Mycroft. "Anthea. With Irene."

"I heard you." Mycroft sighed. "I arranged it."

"Why would you-...? How did you know she was alive? Do you know how much damage those two can cause as a team?" Lestrade fired off questions rapidly, they seemed to tumble out of his mouth the moment they crossed his mind. "Nevermind, who convinced you that this was a good idea? Answer that one first, please."

"Lestrade." Mycroft cut his rant off firmly.

Lestrade sucked in a breath and counted to ten.

Then twenty.

Thirty-five...

"Lestrade, are you still there?" Mycroft asked the silence.

"This is a bad idea, Mycroft." Lestrade said calmly. "A phenomenally horrible idea. Anthea left to her own devises can be bad enough. But to throw Irene into the mix?"

"Lestrade, it won't help to express your panic, even in a poised manner." Mycroft sighed. "You are still panicking and I can hear it."

"I've had bad days, Mycroft." Lestrade responded. "I've worked with bad people to accomplish bad things. What do you think they will do? What are their demands? And more importantly, can we meet their demands?"

"Still panicking, Lestrade." Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Irene was a considerable threat to the Nation when she was manipulating Sherlock to help her." Lestrade pointed out. "With Anthea? She will be unstoppable."

"Lestrade, that's not exactly why I called you."

"It should be." Lestrade said to him gravely. "Drop the Moriarty case. This is more important."

"Anthea works for me. Not Irene." Mycroft reminded him.

"Are you sure? How do you know? Irene is a mistress of persuasion."

"Lestrade, relax."

"No. I fear for my life."

Mycroft shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Just get Sulejmani's body out of the morgue, he has gang markings and tattoos that I hope will not get out to the public. Do it now."

"Wait, who's dead?"

Now it was Mycroft's turn to count to ten. "Just how occupied are you with the Irene-Anthea situation?"

"Very." Lestrade replied vehemently. "I'm just all occupied-up."

"Get the body. I will listen to your lecture about flirting with danger later."

"Fine. But be prepared because I feel a power-point presentation coming on."

"Lestrade, sometimes you make me question my life's choices."

"Only because you should."

"The body. Now."

"On my way." Lestrade made a noise as if just remembering something. "Oh, by the way. Sherlock's found a camera in his flat. The one that isn't ours. And DI Dimmock tried to bring him in for questioning on the kidnapping case."

"You're tell me this now?" Mycroft exclaimed, exasperated.

"My brain was a little bit stuck on Irene and Anthea doing-... doing things! Unfathomable things... which must not be discussed, ever." Lestrade made a distressed little gesture with his free hand despite Mycroft not being there to see it.

"You could've told me about my brother's situation first!"

"You could've told me you were sending Anthea into Irene's... web-... lair-... you know!"

There was a stressed little chuckle from the other end. "Sometimes I wonder if this is what it feels like for parents to teenaged children."

Lestrade stared at his phone incredulously.

There was a soft cough. "Forget I said that."

Lestrade choked on a laugh. "Not bloody likely."

"So, Sherlock is down at Scotland Yard?" Mycroft asked, hoping to distract him.

Lestrade let it happen. "Not yet, but I suspect Dimmock's doubling back with a warrant. Even if I convinced Donovan to reconsider Sherlock as a suspect, Sherlock refusing to come down to the station at this point will convince a lot of other people otherwise."

"Well, this is... tedious." Mycroft remarked.

"You said it." Lestrade sighed. "But... not as troublesome as - say - Irene and Anthea."

"Leave it alone, Lestrade."

"Fine. I'm on my way to the morgue right now."

"Thank you."

Lestrade hung up.

"Who was that, then?" Mary asked, poking her head into the room.

"Oh, just work." Lestrade shrugged casually.

"Work involving Irene Adler and her newest squeeze?" Mary grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Was that the infamous Mycroft Holmes?"

"You may think that, I could not possibly comment." Lestrade smiled back, sauntering over to the smaller woman.

"Mycroft and Gregory, sitting in a tree..." she sang teasingly.

"Stop that." Lestrade smiled affectionately. "Are you just about settled in, then?" He looked around at he spartan flat. Mary Morstan had still only unpacked the necessities. A professional habit.

"I've still got to shop for curtains. And chairs. And things." Mary grimaced and leaning into Lestrade's side. "Thanks for helping me move in."

"Don't mention it." Lestrade smiled. "So, CIA behind you, what are you planning to do?"

Mary shrugged her shoulders. "I've been cutting down on intelligence work for some time now. Been thinking about calling it quits for good this time."

"Ah." Lestrade looked a little sad.

"You're still in the thick of it, I hear." Mary tilted her head against his shoulder.

"Yeah." Lestrade gently detached himself from her. "Look, I've gotta go."

"Mhmm." Mary hummed understandingly as she saw him out. "Hey, Lestrade."

Lestrade stopped and turned on the front step. "I'll not call you." he promised.

It would only be problematic if those who retired and took on new identities remained in contact with those still in the business.

"Thanks." Mary stepped forward and hugged him. "I'll miss you."

"You too."

"Call if you ever decide to retire." the woman instructed.

"You'll be the first to know."