A/N: If you go to http://www.dnaco.net/~mobrien/holmes/ There are several very well written SH22 fics, many of them much better than my stuff. Maureen also has an episode guide and other features to her website.
Chapter 8
Wiggins blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the building he had followed Gregson into. Tennyson was checking up on Watson, and Deidre was making a nuisance of herself at the Yard, while taking some important files from Gregson's office. Wiggins could only hope that Deidre didn't decide to pilfer anything else at the same time, though the younger girl was usually good about things like that when she was on a case.
He carefully edged closer to the doorway of the room he had seen Gregson walk into. There were two other people inside, though he couldn't see them clearly. He strained to hear what they were saying.
"So it is all set up?" Gregson was asking.
"It is," a woman's voice answered, "You know what to do when they bring her in? Good. You will be payed at the completion of your job. Go now."
Wiggins had to jump back to avoid being seen by Gregson who walked out of the room and down the hall, whistling a jaunty tune. For a moment he debated with himself whether to follow the man as per orders, or to stay and find out more about the other two, one of which was a leader of some sort. He decided on the latter.
"The wife keeps having some sort of mental break downs or something," the other person, a man, was saying, "If you leave the child with them..."
"He is imperfect, Dr. Higgins, therefore it does not matter who gets him. I just want him as far away from here as possible."
"He's healthier than most infants his age..." the one called Higgins argued, "I would hardly call him imperfect."
"All are imperfect! All but one," came the immediate response, "Now go, so you can get there by morning."
Wiggins jumped back again, and this time followed the man who walked out.
\
Watson smiled at the boy again, trying to keep his impatience from showing. Really, he couldn't understand why Tennyson was insisting on hanging on his every move, and while under normal circumstances it would taken with great charity, he hadn't had a moment alone to continue talking about the Plan with the Stanhopes and Miss Presbury.
He had begun to think the boy was doing this on purpose, but then he chided himself for such thoughts. Wiggins and Deidre had left him alone and now he just wanted company and was being helpful. To Watson's great relief, Tennyson recieved a call from Deidre and he left to go see what she wanted.
After the boy had left, he made sure no one was following him and made his way towards the Stanhopes' apartment building.
Lestrade grunted as she landed beside Holmes on the bed. She struggled around to glare at him, only to face his backside as he deftly rolled off and to his feet.
"You look tired, Lestrade," he said with a slight smile, "Get some sleep." He paused, then the smile broke into a wide grin. "I'll take the couch." He turned and sauntered out of the room, leaving her to huff in annoyance.
"Lousy, good for nothing..." she shook her head quickly and sighed. She really was tired. Zed, why did he always have to be right? Because he wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes if he wasn't. She laughed softly and closed her eyes, sleep quickly overtaking her exhausted mind.
She loved to swim. It offered her a freedom she didn't really get anywhere else, except the flying lessons she was taking. But she wouldn't be allowed a hoverboard until next year, when she had proven she knew the saftey codes from the inside out. Until then, she could enjoy herself in the warm water of the pool at the hotel where she was staying with Mom and Elaine.
As her arms made sure, strong strokes, she tried not to think about when her father would arrive. That always boded ill...for her at least. He didn't seem to mind Elaine or Mom. She shivered and wished she were back at the Presburys' again, but the Professor and his wife had gone on a trip, and Elaine was busy with a new boyfriend.
Finally, to take her mind off all of it, she thought about the journals she'd found, that even her mother hadn't known about. There was something else she'd found, that she hadn't even told Edith about. It somehow seemed like something to keep to oneself. Not just because having a corpse as a family heirloom is rather weird. Of course, it wasn't really her family...
She heaved a large sigh and swam to the side of the pool, and climbed out. If she stayed in too much longer, she'd get all wrinkly. She didn't see her father until he had hit her upside the head.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice clear and angry. She had once hoped it was because he was drunk, but no, there must really be something wrong with her.
"I...I..was swim...oof!" she wasn't allowed to finish, as he hit her again, this time in the stomach. She doubled over from the pain. He shoved her backwards onto the ground, and a sharp pain lanced from her right ankle all the way to her side.
"You lying little slut!" he shouted. "All right, you want to swim, swim!" He lifted her up and tossed her into the pool, blood from her injured side poured out, turning the water a purplish tint. Then before she could surface, she felt him grab a handful of her hair and hold her under.
The world was starting to go black. She wouldn't be able to hold her breath much longer. Then, as she experienced regret that she'd never get to reread Watson's journals for the tenth time, or find out more about the coffin in that New Scotland Yard warehouse, instinct took over. She reached up and grasped the man's arm, pulling hard.
He was forced to let go of her to try and regain his balance. It was too late, however, and he fell forward with a splash. She took advantage of her new found freedom and surfaced, gasping great lungfuls of air. Then she swam to the edge, climbed out and ran all the way to the room, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She shut the door and locked it, then shoved as much furnature as she could against it, before finally sitting down on the bed.
She was shaking badly, as she called Edith. Without turning the visual on, she asked if she could come stay a while. Her friend instantly agreed, and told her she and Marcus would come to pick her up.
Lestrade woke with a gasp, clutching her side. To her immense relief, it was merely the wooden frame of the waterbed pressing painfully against her. She yawned and stretched, wondering what time it was. As if on cue, Holmes walked in.
"Dr. Higgins has arrived," he stated without preamble, "I suggest you hurry up and get ready ." Once again, he was already prepared, and if she hadn't been so shaken up by the dream she'd just had, she would have been annoyed and offered some sort of scathing comment. As it was, she simply nodded and went about getting her clothes, her mind several years away from the here and now.
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Chapter 8
Wiggins blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the building he had followed Gregson into. Tennyson was checking up on Watson, and Deidre was making a nuisance of herself at the Yard, while taking some important files from Gregson's office. Wiggins could only hope that Deidre didn't decide to pilfer anything else at the same time, though the younger girl was usually good about things like that when she was on a case.
He carefully edged closer to the doorway of the room he had seen Gregson walk into. There were two other people inside, though he couldn't see them clearly. He strained to hear what they were saying.
"So it is all set up?" Gregson was asking.
"It is," a woman's voice answered, "You know what to do when they bring her in? Good. You will be payed at the completion of your job. Go now."
Wiggins had to jump back to avoid being seen by Gregson who walked out of the room and down the hall, whistling a jaunty tune. For a moment he debated with himself whether to follow the man as per orders, or to stay and find out more about the other two, one of which was a leader of some sort. He decided on the latter.
"The wife keeps having some sort of mental break downs or something," the other person, a man, was saying, "If you leave the child with them..."
"He is imperfect, Dr. Higgins, therefore it does not matter who gets him. I just want him as far away from here as possible."
"He's healthier than most infants his age..." the one called Higgins argued, "I would hardly call him imperfect."
"All are imperfect! All but one," came the immediate response, "Now go, so you can get there by morning."
Wiggins jumped back again, and this time followed the man who walked out.
\
Watson smiled at the boy again, trying to keep his impatience from showing. Really, he couldn't understand why Tennyson was insisting on hanging on his every move, and while under normal circumstances it would taken with great charity, he hadn't had a moment alone to continue talking about the Plan with the Stanhopes and Miss Presbury.
He had begun to think the boy was doing this on purpose, but then he chided himself for such thoughts. Wiggins and Deidre had left him alone and now he just wanted company and was being helpful. To Watson's great relief, Tennyson recieved a call from Deidre and he left to go see what she wanted.
After the boy had left, he made sure no one was following him and made his way towards the Stanhopes' apartment building.
Lestrade grunted as she landed beside Holmes on the bed. She struggled around to glare at him, only to face his backside as he deftly rolled off and to his feet.
"You look tired, Lestrade," he said with a slight smile, "Get some sleep." He paused, then the smile broke into a wide grin. "I'll take the couch." He turned and sauntered out of the room, leaving her to huff in annoyance.
"Lousy, good for nothing..." she shook her head quickly and sighed. She really was tired. Zed, why did he always have to be right? Because he wouldn't be Sherlock Holmes if he wasn't. She laughed softly and closed her eyes, sleep quickly overtaking her exhausted mind.
She loved to swim. It offered her a freedom she didn't really get anywhere else, except the flying lessons she was taking. But she wouldn't be allowed a hoverboard until next year, when she had proven she knew the saftey codes from the inside out. Until then, she could enjoy herself in the warm water of the pool at the hotel where she was staying with Mom and Elaine.
As her arms made sure, strong strokes, she tried not to think about when her father would arrive. That always boded ill...for her at least. He didn't seem to mind Elaine or Mom. She shivered and wished she were back at the Presburys' again, but the Professor and his wife had gone on a trip, and Elaine was busy with a new boyfriend.
Finally, to take her mind off all of it, she thought about the journals she'd found, that even her mother hadn't known about. There was something else she'd found, that she hadn't even told Edith about. It somehow seemed like something to keep to oneself. Not just because having a corpse as a family heirloom is rather weird. Of course, it wasn't really her family...
She heaved a large sigh and swam to the side of the pool, and climbed out. If she stayed in too much longer, she'd get all wrinkly. She didn't see her father until he had hit her upside the head.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice clear and angry. She had once hoped it was because he was drunk, but no, there must really be something wrong with her.
"I...I..was swim...oof!" she wasn't allowed to finish, as he hit her again, this time in the stomach. She doubled over from the pain. He shoved her backwards onto the ground, and a sharp pain lanced from her right ankle all the way to her side.
"You lying little slut!" he shouted. "All right, you want to swim, swim!" He lifted her up and tossed her into the pool, blood from her injured side poured out, turning the water a purplish tint. Then before she could surface, she felt him grab a handful of her hair and hold her under.
The world was starting to go black. She wouldn't be able to hold her breath much longer. Then, as she experienced regret that she'd never get to reread Watson's journals for the tenth time, or find out more about the coffin in that New Scotland Yard warehouse, instinct took over. She reached up and grasped the man's arm, pulling hard.
He was forced to let go of her to try and regain his balance. It was too late, however, and he fell forward with a splash. She took advantage of her new found freedom and surfaced, gasping great lungfuls of air. Then she swam to the edge, climbed out and ran all the way to the room, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She shut the door and locked it, then shoved as much furnature as she could against it, before finally sitting down on the bed.
She was shaking badly, as she called Edith. Without turning the visual on, she asked if she could come stay a while. Her friend instantly agreed, and told her she and Marcus would come to pick her up.
Lestrade woke with a gasp, clutching her side. To her immense relief, it was merely the wooden frame of the waterbed pressing painfully against her. She yawned and stretched, wondering what time it was. As if on cue, Holmes walked in.
"Dr. Higgins has arrived," he stated without preamble, "I suggest you hurry up and get ready ." Once again, he was already prepared, and if she hadn't been so shaken up by the dream she'd just had, she would have been annoyed and offered some sort of scathing comment. As it was, she simply nodded and went about getting her clothes, her mind several years away from the here and now.
Go on to 9!
Go back to 7
Go back to the fanfic page