Lestrade popped into Jones' office. "Come on, and bring your boy with you!" He barked, and was gone. Jones sat there for a second longer, sighed, and sprang into action.

"Greene, let's go!" Jones shouted as he took off down the hall after the other Inspector. Greene poked his head out into the hall.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Let's go!" Jones hated repeating himself, but the boy got the hint and hurried to catch up with him. The questions, however, didn't stop.

"Where are we going?" Greene wanted to know.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Jones snapped. He really didn't want to have this conversation while trying to keep up with Lestrade.

"You don't know?" Greene demanded. "You don't have any idea what's going on?"

Jones managed to scowl at the younger man. "When Lestrade pops in, tells you to come on, and doesn't bother to explain why, you don't waste time asking questions."

Greene wasn't convinced, but was wary enough of Lestrade not to pursue the matter as they climbed into a cab. Jones groaned; if Lestrade was in enough of a hurry to have a cab waiting…

Lestrade was checking his revolver. A shiver ran down Jones' spine.

"Am I going to be dodging bullets?" Jones wanted to know.

"No, but you might be needing to pray for forgiveness when we're done." Jones was tempted to scoff, but Lestrade's next words were not even remotely humorous. "We've got a couple fugitives holed up in a church and using a children's choir as hostages."

"Are you serious?" Jones couldn't help his explosion. "A church? What are they thinking?"

"That we won't dare try anything." Lestrade said somberly.

"Which is why you brought me." Jones understood. There was no doubt that he was the least religious of the group. Lestrade nodded. "Are you okay with this?" Jones asked.

Lestrade grimaced. "They killed one of the children to make sure the Constables who followed him in knew he was serious. I'd say that pretty much negates the concept of 'sanctuary.'"

"Do we have a plan?" Jones asked as the cab stopped and they dismounted.

"Greene is going to keep his mouth shut. You are going to try to negotiate with them. I'm going to shoot them if they try anything." Lestrade replied grimly.

"You're already out of favor with the papers." Jones reminded him as they raced up the stairs. Lestrade shrugged.

The Constables were gathered in the foyer. "They're in the choir loft." One of them reported as the Inspectors approached.

"Thank you." Jones said, taking the lead. He carefully opened the door to the sanctuary and the three cautiously stepped inside.

He ignored the body of the child lying on the ground, and focused his attention on the gathering in the loft. He raised his voice. "This is Inspector Jones of Scotland Yard. Can we talk?" He asked.

One of the men held a gun to the head of a terrified boy of about nine or ten. "What about?" He demanded.

Jones fought back the urge to swear. "What do you think?" He retorted. "About your current situation!"

A laugh. "You want to negotiate?" The man asked warily.

Jones sighed. "Yes. I want to negotiate the release of the children."

Another laugh. "So, what? We let the children go, and you let us walk out of here? I didn't think you people made those kind of bargains."

"I'm not authorized to." Jones admitted.

"But you're willing to anyway? Tell you what, Inspector. You and your buddies can leave, and call off the police. We'll leave, and we'll take one of these lovely children with us. After we make it out of the city, we'll let the child go."

Jones rolled his eyes. "Come on, be reasonable! There's no way I could get away with a stunt like that."

The other man chose to speak up then. "We aren't playing games here, Inspector. Unless you want another dead kid on your hands, I suggest you do what he says."

Jones raised his hands. "Now just calm down, there's no need to-"

"Get out." The first man ordered. "Call off your men, or this one dies, and that pretty little girl goes next."

Jones looked towards Lestrade. "He means it." He muttered. Lestrade nodded; he was already backing towards the door.

"We're going." Lestrade told them. "You don't have to hurt anyone else."

There was a glint in the first man's eye. Jones swore. "Les-" He was cut off by the sound of a gunshot, and the sounds of children screaming.

Greene watched in horror as the boy fell to the ground, and the little girl broke and ran. This time it was Lestrade who swore.

After that things happened rather quickly.

The first man took aim, and again a shot rang out.

Greene darted forward to grab the girl.

Lestrade drew his own gun and fired off two shots in quick succession.

Greene caught the girl. She stared up at him with empty eyes.

And suddenly all he was aware of was the limp body in his arms that had once been a little girl, bleeding all over him and the floor of the church. He didn't realize he had pulled her closer, as if doing so would bring her back to life or undo the horrors that had taken place in what was supposed to be a place of hope.

Time stopped, and had no meaning as he tried to understand how something like this could happen. How could there be people in the world who would harm an innocent child?

He was shaking, and his face was wet, but he didn't care. Someone's baby girl wouldn't be coming home tonight. She wouldn't come home ever again. He wasn't sure how else he was supposed to react to that.

Or the knowledge that he had both witnessed and been unable to stop it.

Gradually he became aware that someone was speaking to him, and that he should probably respond.

"Come on, Greene." He knew that voice. Lestrade. "Give her to Jones, there's a good lad."

Jones was kneeling before them, waiting to relieve him of his burden. He felt strangely reluctant to let him do so.

"Jones is going to take care of her, Greene. Just hand her over." He loosened his grip a little. "There you go, lad." Lestrade's voice was strangely gentle as Jones eased the girl out of Greene's arms. He felt lost and empty now.

He felt an arm around his shoulders, and someone guiding him into a standing position. "Come on, Greene. Let's get you out of here."

He nodded mechanically and let the older Inspector guide him from the room and out of the church. He wondered if he would ever look at a church the same way again.

His head began to clear a bit as Lestrade mumbled half an apology to the priest on their way out. As the reached the steps, he suddenly remembered.

"The men! What happened to them?" He turned to look back towards the doors, but his attention was caught by the expression on Lestrade's face.

"They're dead, Greene." Lestrade assured him. "Both of them." Greene suddenly realized the man had been serious about shooting them, and he wasn't upset to hear that Lestrade's aim had been accurate.

Of course, that didn't change the fact that three children were now dead.

Lestrade led him away from the church and away from the gathering crowd. He didn't say a word as they began the walk back to Scotland Yard, but left Green alone with his thoughts.

He wasn't sure whether or not he should be grateful.

When they finally reached their destination, Greene hesitated in front of the building. Lestrade turned, and looked him up and down. Then he spoke.

"Go home, Greene. Get some rest, and we'll see you tomorrow." Greene opened his mouth to protest, but Lestrade cut him off. "You've been through enough for one day, Inspector. I'll tell Jones I sent you home."

Greene sighed, and his shoulders fell. "Yes, sir." He said.


Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.