Chapter 4
"So what do we do next?" Lestrade asked Holmes as she walked into the kitchen, glaring at his knowing smile. He did it on purpose because he knew it annoyed her. She knew she really shouldn't react to it, but it had become second nature. He smiles, she glares. With a quick shake of her head to clear it of such inane thoughts, she placed her hands on her hips and waited. He handed her the paper with that couple's information. "What do you think of it?"
She frowned as she perused it, then handed it back with a shrug. "Seems simple enough. We place an advertisement in certain circles and then wait for a response. Although, I wonder why James didn't use the normal data pads..."
He nodded. "Yes, it does seem simple doesn't it? A little too simple I wonder?"
"Too simple, Holmes? What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing at the moment Lestrade, I suggest you get some rest." Obviously dismissing her for the moment, Holmes rose and walked back to the second bedroom, the one that had been converted into a catch-all, that didn't have too much "caught".
She rolled her eyes and tucked the slip of paper into one of John Watson's journals lying on the table. They always seemed to be somewhere other than the last place she remembered putting them. Oh yeah, Lestrade, what'd they do? Just get up and walk away by themselves? "Well, technically...oh great now I'm answering myself."
She gave an expressive sigh and walked towards her bedroom, only to be stopped by the vid-phone. It was Greyson, with James, just behind him. Both wore serious expressions.
"What can I do for you...sir?" She asked, her puzzlement creeping into her voice. Obviously James hadn't been able to get clearance for her to be gone for an indefinite length of time.
"Lestrade, is Holmes around?" Greyson asked, his voice quiet and grave, which made her all the more concerned and confused. Greyson was never quiet.
"Not at the moment," she replied truthfully.
"That's too bad. He's going to find this hard to believe. I find it hard to believe...but the evidence is overwhelming..." He trailed off, seeming to have difficulty in speaking.
"Find what hard to believe, sir?" Her apprehension was growing. Something was definitely not right here.
"You're wanted for the murder of Elaine Stanhope. I'll be there in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere, Lestrade. Greyson out." The vid-phone went abruptly dark.
She started to go get Holmes, but someone busting in through the front door stalled her. She gasped at the person standing there.
"Dad! What are you..."
"Don't you 'dad' me you lousy little..." her father growled, "I knew you were jealous of her, but to go this far...You were in league with Stanhope, and don't bother denying it. You encouraged them to get together."
The man stepped further into the room and delivered a viscious backhand. Lestrade, still too startled by what he was saying, what Greyson had just got through telling her, and the fact that he was here in her apartment, allowed it to catch her across the cheek. She stumbled backwards from the blow, and fell over the arm of the couch.
"The police will be here any second now, and you'll go to prison," her father snarled, "But not before I make you pay for what you did to my little girl, you worthless piece of filth. I knew I should have taken care of this before they took you away." He advanced on her again, but a sudden movement behind him, and then a blow to his head knocked him unconscious.
Lestrade looked up at Holmes with still in shock mental processes. She didn't comprehend what had just happened, didn't want to. She numbly followed Holmes when he gestured for her to proceed him out sliding glass door onto the balcony, and then down the railing to the ground below. Nothing immediately after that registered in her brain.
It had been three hours, and Lestrade still wasn't responding to anything. Holmes knelt before her in the semi-dark tunnel beneath 221b, and waved the scanner across her face again. It still showed normal brain functions, normal physiologically anyway. That at least was something. Holmes had no doubts the man had hit her before. How could a man claim to be a father and do something like this? He grimmaced and put the device away and sat down beside her. He needed to snap her out of this somehow.
The conversation with Inspector Greyson had cinched matters, at least concerning Gregson's involvement. He had set them up, and no doubt he had also expected them to follow these instructions to the letter. Holmes' lips curved into a grim smile. Gregson had no idea who he was dealing with. Now to get Lestrade acting right again.
He pitched his voice slightly deeper and threw it. "Well, well, what have we here, a Scotland Yard detective weak and all alone..."
As he had hoped, Lestrade jerked herself out of whatever mental purgatory she'd been in an leapt to her feet. "Moriarty!" She blinked and looked over at Holmes, who couldn't help a slight chuckle. "Huh?"
"I thought that might work," he answered her in his nemesis' voice.
She sighed with exasperation and plopped back next to him. "It...it wasn't just a crazy dream was it?"
He didn't have to ask what she was referring to. "I am afraid not. However, we are still going on as planned."
"And just how are we going to do that, Holmes? Or are you forgetting that I'm wanted? For murder?"
"I have not. But we are going to have assumed names after all, not to mention disguises and masked DNA. Everything that will help us out. I have a feeling once we solve this case, you shall be free in clear. If I'm not very much mistaken."
She gave another exasperated sigh. "Why do you say that when you know you're almost never mistaken?" She shrugged. "Anyway, we're just going to go on with what that paper said?"
"No we are not. Gregson purposely gave that to us just so we would be caught. After all, a one of a kind advertisement is rather conspicuous. No, we shall simply have to do a bit more research, and we'll start by pretending we're Americans who've come to New London to see if the technology here can cure a certain sterility problem. I'm almost one hundred percent certain the couples are found at the clinics."
"You mean, we wait for them to come to us?" She seemed to be ignoring his revelation about Gregson, but that was the way Lestrade was. Ignore painful subjects until she had to face them head on. And, as he knew, she was in her worst sort of mood in that position. Which was why he wasn't going to ask her why she hadn't told him Elaine Stanhope had been her sister. At least not yet.
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"So what do we do next?" Lestrade asked Holmes as she walked into the kitchen, glaring at his knowing smile. He did it on purpose because he knew it annoyed her. She knew she really shouldn't react to it, but it had become second nature. He smiles, she glares. With a quick shake of her head to clear it of such inane thoughts, she placed her hands on her hips and waited. He handed her the paper with that couple's information. "What do you think of it?"
She frowned as she perused it, then handed it back with a shrug. "Seems simple enough. We place an advertisement in certain circles and then wait for a response. Although, I wonder why James didn't use the normal data pads..."
He nodded. "Yes, it does seem simple doesn't it? A little too simple I wonder?"
"Too simple, Holmes? What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing at the moment Lestrade, I suggest you get some rest." Obviously dismissing her for the moment, Holmes rose and walked back to the second bedroom, the one that had been converted into a catch-all, that didn't have too much "caught".
She rolled her eyes and tucked the slip of paper into one of John Watson's journals lying on the table. They always seemed to be somewhere other than the last place she remembered putting them. Oh yeah, Lestrade, what'd they do? Just get up and walk away by themselves? "Well, technically...oh great now I'm answering myself."
She gave an expressive sigh and walked towards her bedroom, only to be stopped by the vid-phone. It was Greyson, with James, just behind him. Both wore serious expressions.
"What can I do for you...sir?" She asked, her puzzlement creeping into her voice. Obviously James hadn't been able to get clearance for her to be gone for an indefinite length of time.
"Lestrade, is Holmes around?" Greyson asked, his voice quiet and grave, which made her all the more concerned and confused. Greyson was never quiet.
"Not at the moment," she replied truthfully.
"That's too bad. He's going to find this hard to believe. I find it hard to believe...but the evidence is overwhelming..." He trailed off, seeming to have difficulty in speaking.
"Find what hard to believe, sir?" Her apprehension was growing. Something was definitely not right here.
"You're wanted for the murder of Elaine Stanhope. I'll be there in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere, Lestrade. Greyson out." The vid-phone went abruptly dark.
She started to go get Holmes, but someone busting in through the front door stalled her. She gasped at the person standing there.
"Dad! What are you..."
"Don't you 'dad' me you lousy little..." her father growled, "I knew you were jealous of her, but to go this far...You were in league with Stanhope, and don't bother denying it. You encouraged them to get together."
The man stepped further into the room and delivered a viscious backhand. Lestrade, still too startled by what he was saying, what Greyson had just got through telling her, and the fact that he was here in her apartment, allowed it to catch her across the cheek. She stumbled backwards from the blow, and fell over the arm of the couch.
"The police will be here any second now, and you'll go to prison," her father snarled, "But not before I make you pay for what you did to my little girl, you worthless piece of filth. I knew I should have taken care of this before they took you away." He advanced on her again, but a sudden movement behind him, and then a blow to his head knocked him unconscious.
Lestrade looked up at Holmes with still in shock mental processes. She didn't comprehend what had just happened, didn't want to. She numbly followed Holmes when he gestured for her to proceed him out sliding glass door onto the balcony, and then down the railing to the ground below. Nothing immediately after that registered in her brain.
It had been three hours, and Lestrade still wasn't responding to anything. Holmes knelt before her in the semi-dark tunnel beneath 221b, and waved the scanner across her face again. It still showed normal brain functions, normal physiologically anyway. That at least was something. Holmes had no doubts the man had hit her before. How could a man claim to be a father and do something like this? He grimmaced and put the device away and sat down beside her. He needed to snap her out of this somehow.
The conversation with Inspector Greyson had cinched matters, at least concerning Gregson's involvement. He had set them up, and no doubt he had also expected them to follow these instructions to the letter. Holmes' lips curved into a grim smile. Gregson had no idea who he was dealing with. Now to get Lestrade acting right again.
He pitched his voice slightly deeper and threw it. "Well, well, what have we here, a Scotland Yard detective weak and all alone..."
As he had hoped, Lestrade jerked herself out of whatever mental purgatory she'd been in an leapt to her feet. "Moriarty!" She blinked and looked over at Holmes, who couldn't help a slight chuckle. "Huh?"
"I thought that might work," he answered her in his nemesis' voice.
She sighed with exasperation and plopped back next to him. "It...it wasn't just a crazy dream was it?"
He didn't have to ask what she was referring to. "I am afraid not. However, we are still going on as planned."
"And just how are we going to do that, Holmes? Or are you forgetting that I'm wanted? For murder?"
"I have not. But we are going to have assumed names after all, not to mention disguises and masked DNA. Everything that will help us out. I have a feeling once we solve this case, you shall be free in clear. If I'm not very much mistaken."
She gave another exasperated sigh. "Why do you say that when you know you're almost never mistaken?" She shrugged. "Anyway, we're just going to go on with what that paper said?"
"No we are not. Gregson purposely gave that to us just so we would be caught. After all, a one of a kind advertisement is rather conspicuous. No, we shall simply have to do a bit more research, and we'll start by pretending we're Americans who've come to New London to see if the technology here can cure a certain sterility problem. I'm almost one hundred percent certain the couples are found at the clinics."
"You mean, we wait for them to come to us?" She seemed to be ignoring his revelation about Gregson, but that was the way Lestrade was. Ignore painful subjects until she had to face them head on. And, as he knew, she was in her worst sort of mood in that position. Which was why he wasn't going to ask her why she hadn't told him Elaine Stanhope had been her sister. At least not yet.
Go on to 5!
Go back to: One|Two|Three
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