Got My Eye On You
Chapter Sixty Four: The Great Man (Part One)
Author's Note: After The Best Man covered in the last Chapter, I am returning to an earlier time- what happened to Greg and Sherlock leading up to the roof of St Bart's and after. A series of multi-chapter stories entitled: The Great Man, then another titled, The Good Man, and then a reunion fic, The Better Man. Of course, as we await Series Three, it's all speculation! As ever, the dialogue from the broadcast episode is based on Ariane DeVere's excellent transcript.
"You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home ..." Sherlock closed the distance between them, reached forward and gently touched his index fingertip to Greg's forehead, "... there."
Tightly lipped, Greg just asked, "Will you come?" He knew the irony of that phrase. He didn't need Sherlock's help on a case this time; he needed to show his team that he was doing things by the book. It was a ridiculous idea that Sergeant Donovan had started running with – that Sherlock had not only solved the kidnapping case, he'd perpetrated it in the first place. But until Sherlock could be questioned and provide an alibi, the suspicions would gain traction. Like a cat who'd spent his nine lives, Sherlock had finally run out of good will at the Metropolitan Police, and those who had been jealous of Lestrade's clear-up rate were now circling like vultures.
Sherlock didn't reply. He sat down at the table and began to type on his laptop. "One photograph – that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch." He picked up the hidden camera that he had just discovered, examining it carefully before raising his eyes again to Greg. "It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play." He looked away from Greg and just dismissed him with a quiet "Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan."
For a moment, Greg wondered whether he should persevere, or perhaps appeal to John's more obliging nature, to get the doctor to try to persuade Sherlock to see sense. It was for his own good- Sherlock needed to put to rest the rumours about his role in the kidnapping. But, to be questioned called into question everything about the consulting detective, and Greg knew he was asking a lot of the man. He'd come in the vain hope that Sherlock's logic would overcome his pride and he would agree voluntarily. The DI also knew that Moriarty was manipulating him along with the rest of the Met; procedures made him just as much a pawn in this game as any of the victims of the crimes that the consulting criminal had perpetrated. But, he had no choice. It wasn't like Sherlock was actually guilty. The DI sighed, and unhappily turned back down the steps where he met an angry Sally Donovan at the foot of the stairs.
She followed him out into the street. Before he got into the back of the car, Greg looked up at the windows of the flat and saw John watching him. He felt the hostility in the gaze. I know how you feel, mate. I'm none too happy about this myself.
Sally climbed in the other side and slammed the door. As soon as the car pulled away from the kerb, she lit into Lestrade. "Why didn't you pull him in?" She was outraged.
"I don't have a warrant, do I? And, if you recall your police procedure, he's under no obligation to help us with our enquiries." Greg's tone was sarcastic. He slouched back on the seat and looked despondent.
It just wound up Sally more. "He's running circles around you, Detective Inspector, and like some ….I don't know, some dog, you just roll over and let him. It's not good enough. The proof is sitting there on the evidence table; you've seen it. You can't deny it. It's circumstantial at the moment but it's enough to justify a warrant. If you won't get one because of some sort of misguided loyalty, then I will just have to go over your head."
That infuriated Lestrade. "Yeah, you'd just love to do that, wouldn't you? You've been storing up your jealousy for years and now, when he's been cornered by Moriarty, you've got your chance. There was a time when being a member of my team meant we worked together on things, took decisions and when we disagreed about something we worked it out as colleagues. Where did that loyalty go, Donovan? What's happened to you?"
She snapped back. "I don't owe him any loyalty. And maybe I've just got fed up with his prancing about like he owned the place. He's had you under his thumb for so long you don't even recognise it any more. You've given me no choice but to go over your head. At least I'm giving you the courtesy of telling you, so you can't accuse me of going behind your back. Want to defend his corner? Then come with me to the Chief Super- and make your case."
"So, you're resorting to ultimatums, now, Donovan? What happened to solving team differences within the team?"
She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead. "You've turned a blind eye too often, Detective Inspector. Anderson and I brought the evidence to you. If you choose to ignore it, then you'll be in dereliction of duty. If I can prove that Holmes is the one who kidnapped the kids in the first place so he could appear to be their saviour, then you're going to have an awful lot of explaining to do. Trying to stifle an investigation is only the first offense. Care to add some more?"
He didn't reply. He spent the rest of the journey thinking about what happened to great men when the people they made feel small got their revenge. It worried him. The anxiety that had been building for the past six months, as Sherlock grappled with Moriarty, now spilled over into outright panic. He felt trapped into doing what his job, his training, his responsibility required of him, even if it was at the expense of his friendship with Sherlock. You're a bastard, Moriarty, and if I ever get my hands on you again….
oOo
By the time the car got back to New Scotland Yard, Greg knew that he had no alternative but to take this to the Chief Superintendent himself. If he didn't, then Sally would be able to push him aside and keep him off the investigation team. Sherlock's best hope would be to have someone on the team who didn't assume he was the guilty party. She had him over a procedural barrel, and she knew it. There was a spring in her stride as she followed him into the building. She had her phone out and was asking someone to join them in the Chief's office.
"Who are you speaking to, Donovan?"
"Anderson; as the Crime Scene Examiner on the scene, he has the right to be there. After all, it's his evidence."
"That's not necessary. Call him back and tell him to stay at his desk."
The woman stopped and glared at him. "Lestrade, just keep obstructing things and you'll be forced to recuse yourself. Don Anderson is going to be there."
Greg drew in a shaky breath. Donovan and Anderson were clearly planning to enjoy doing this. Even when the evidence was proved to be circumstantial and Sherlock was released, they were going to extract every moment of revenge for all those insults over the years. A piece of him just wanted to find Moriarty and force him and his plans out into the open. He could not have orchestrated a better way to destroy Sherlock than giving Donovan and Anderson some rope with which to hang him. And Greg felt utterly powerless to stop the two of them from taking the next inevitable steps.
Mindful of the need to be seen to be neutral and unbiased, to avoid jeopardising his chance to remain on the investigation, Greg explained the problem to the Chief. He'd always disliked the man. A bluff northerner who liked to pretend he was a working class copper, the Chief had never been an operational detective. He'd neem parachuted into the job by the previous commissioner with a brief to cut costs. Lestrade knew his own brain wasn't in Sherlock Holmes' league, but over the years, he'd realised he was a good detective with a pretty sharp grasp of the esstentials. I need to be to keep up with Sherlock. But, the Chief was remarkably dim. He was struggling to understand the issue.
"Sherlock Holmes?"
"Yes, sir."
"That bloke that's been in the press."
Lestrade nodded.
"I thought he was some sort of private eye."
"He is."
"We've been consulting with him – that's what you're ... you're telling me? Not used him on any proper cases, though, have we?"
How could this man be as dumb as this? Greg knew that the higher ups in the Met were more concerned with political relations than with police operations, but the man must have been reading the newspapers, if not the Assistant Commissioner's reports about the department's successes. He decided to minimise the issue if he could get away with it. "Well, one or two."
But Anderson, standing behind the DI, was quick to correct him. "Or twenty or thirty."
That made the Chief look up in surprise. "What?"
Greg realised that he was now on the edge of losing this, so made a play to spread the responsibility. "Look, I'm not the only senior officer who did this. Gregson ..."
It didn't work. The Chief just cut him off. "Shut up! An amateur detective given access to all sorts of classified information, and now he's a suspect in a case!"
Lestrade tried again. "With all due respect, sir ..." but the man wasn't having it.
"You're a bloody idiot, Lestrade! Now go and fetch him in right now!"
When he hesitated, the Chief just barked, "Do it!"
Greg stood and walked out, with Anderson and Donovan following close behind. As soon as they were out of earshot of the Chief, he growled at them, "Are you proud of yourselves?"
Anderson couldn't resist his moment of triumph. "Well, what if it's not just this case? What if he's done this to us every single time?" As Sally made for the door, Anderson followed, even though there was no legitimate crime scene for him to examine. Nothing in the world was going to stop him from being there to witness the arrest of Sherlock Holmes. Neither of them saw Greg reach for his own coat, fish into his pocket and hit speed dial. Not Sherlock; if anyone finds out I've tipped off a suspect, I'll be pushed off the case as fast as that Chief desk jockey can blink. No, John will know what to do.
oOo
Lestrade fully expected John to tell Sherlock what was coming, and that the man would disappear before the police showed up to arrest him. While it might look like he was guilty, Greg had every faith in Sherlock's ability to gather whatever evidence he needed to prove his innocence, no matter how diabolical Moriarty's trap might be. Better outside fighting his own corner than locked up being interrogated by every Tom, Dick and Harry police officer he's pissed off over the years.
In the back of the squad car, Sally was on the phone. With a start, he realised she was talking to SO19. "Yep, we're on our way to 221b Baker Street to arrest a suspect, and we know that there is an illegal gun in the flat, which means you need to get armed response there the same time we do. Make it happen."
As she broke off the call, Greg just let rip. "Is that really necessary? You know it isn't Sherlock's gun and that he's hardly going to come out shooting like some Wild West desperado." He was now so angry that he could hardly bother to be civil to her.
She sat smugly back on the seat, a grin splitting her face. "It's protocol, Guv! And you know it just as much as I do. She quoted from the regulations, 'if a suspect is known to be armed and likely to resist arrest, contact the appropriate command for armed backup, rather than expose officers and the public to the threat of gunfire.' You've turned a blind eye to Watson's weapon for the past three years. This time, we've doing this by the book; no more bending the rules for Sherlock Holmes. And if he is humiliated by it, then good. That's just fine by me."
If she was a bloke, I'd have punched her by now. He just held his temper, and hoped that the sirens would alert the occupants of Baker Street to get out of the flat as soon as possible, if they had not already done so.
By the time Lestrade got out of the car, there were two other police cars on the scene at Baker Street, which was ablaze with blue and red lights and people milling about. An officer was already banging on the door, shouting "police!"
It was Mrs Hudson who answered the door, and she looked stunned by the sight of all the officers and cars. Sergeant Donovan pushed past her into the doorway and shouted up the stairs, "Sherlock!" Lestrade tried to reassure the elderly lady, "Evening, Mrs Hudson."
Sally bellowed up, "…we need to talk to you!" and then beckoned two of the armed police up the stairs with her.
Mrs Hudson was outraged at the officers' behaviour, as they pushed her back against the wall. She cried out "Don't barge in like that!" Lestrade steadied her to make sure she didn't fall, and then followed the other three up the stairs. Half way up on the landing, John was waiting. Arms crossed and angry as hell, he shouted at Sally, "Have you got a warrant? Have you?"
Sergeant Donvoan had the momentum going to take her right past the doctor, and when he tried to grab the arm of one of the officers with her, Lestrade cautioned him, "Leave it, John" as Mrs Hudson came up behind him, still angry and complaining, "Really! Manners!"
When Greg got into the living room, Sally Donovan and the two officers were glaring at Sherlock, who stood quietly with his coat and scarf on. John followed him in, and, as he pushed by, Greg could feel the anger coming off from the shorter man.
For a moment, no one moved. Unlike John, the tall silent figure was calm, contained, his expression controlled and neutral. Sherlock didn't look at anyone but Greg, who mouthed a silent I'm sorry and shook his head. Because everyone else was looking at Sherlock, no one but Sherlock saw Greg's regret. Sally snapped, "Do the honours, Lestrade, or I will. In fact, I'd be delighted to."
The brunet gave an imperceptible nod, and averted his gaze as Greg approached and said "Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping."
One of the armed officers attached handcuffs to Sherlock's left wrist, as John complained. "He's not resisting," appealing to Lestrade to leave his friend some shred of self respect.
As the officer pulled Sherlock's left hand behind his back in order to cuff his other wrist, Sherlock said quietly, "It's all right, John."
But John wouldn't have it. He repeated, louder, "He's not resisting. No, it's not all right. This is ridiculous."
Lestrade just said in a resigned tone. "Get him downstairs now." The officer spun Sherlock around and marched him out of the room and down the stairs.
Mrs Hudson was almost in tears, as John snapped at Lestrade, "You know you don't have to…"
Greg realised that John's anger was about to boil over and cause a scene. If Sherlock had decided to not take the opportunity to bolt, then his second best chance at clearing his name needed John on the outside working to clear his name. Greg knew he had to do something quickly. He came up close to John and pointed his finger at the doctor's chest. "Don't try to interfere, or I shall arrest you too." He turned around and left, hoping his warning would help John realise what was best for Sherlock. He prayed that Sally, who remained behind, would not provoke him. As he went down the stairs, he met the Chief Superintendent coming back up the stairs. Greg kept his tongue, but groaned to himself. That's all we need; this idiot coming to add salt to the wounds.
Outside, the scene seemed to have become even more crowded. Lestrade wondered whether any of the SO6special protection boys had turned up. If so, they were going to be as confused as hell that the person they were detailed to protect was now the subject of police arrest. He found himself praying that Mycroft was already aware and at work in the background trying to get this mess sorted. If there was ever a time to interfere, big brother, this is it.
Greg watched as the SO19 officer pushed Sherlock hard against the side of the squad car and made him spread his legs for a body search. Lestrsade closed his eyes, briefly distressed for Sherlock's sake. He didn't like being touched at the best of times. Amidst the noise and confusion, with the police car lights swirling their colours, and the stress of all these unknown faces, Lestrade worried about Sherlock's sensory perception disorder. Would he go into meltdown under the onslaught? This was so not the way to do this. He turned to see if he could find the SO19 officer in charge. A word about the suspect might help calm things down.
He was in conversation on just this point when another armed officer came out of Baker Street pushing John Watson. Behind him came the Chief Superintendent holding a bloodied handkerchief to his streaming nose. Oh God, that's torn it. He's gone and provoked Watson into punching him. John was slammed up against the same squad car as Sherlock, and Greg could see the taller figure turn to talk with his shorter friend. Behind them the officers changed the cuffing, so that the two suspects being arrested were now handcuffed together, facing the side of the police car.
Greg started to move forward- putting those two side-by-side was not a good idea. A Sherlock content to be taken in was not the same as Sherlock when John was at risk. He knew that better than anyone else on the scene. But before he could take his second step, all hell broke loose. Sherlock reached into the police car's front window and hit something on the dashboard that made half the uniformed officers double over in pain, then then Greg watched in utter horror as the brunet turned around and calmly helped himself to the SO19 officer's handgun. Sherlock raised the weapon in his hand, dragging John's cuffed hand up with his own as he called out in a loud baritone, "Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?"
When no one reacted, he raised the gun to the sky and fired twice. "NOW would be good!" He pulled the weapon back down and pointed it at the SO19 officer. Greg was scared witless that the guy would try to tackle Sherlock and that something horrible would happen, so he bellowed as loud as he could "Do as he says!" Greg gestured with his hands downwards and the officers started to comply.
Sherlock started to back away from the police car, pulling a startled John with him. Watson shouted, "just, just so that you're aware, the gun is his idea. I'm just a…you know…a.."
Sherlock transferred the gun to his right hand and pointed it at John's head, then completed the doctor's sentence. "…my hostage."
John gasped and said something Greg couldn't hear to Sherlock, who continued to move back until they were at the corner. Then they disappeared from view. Greg just lowered his head into his hands. Oh, Sherlock- what have you done! Every bloody cop in town is now going to be after you, including the ones that shoot first and ask questions later.
The Chief Superintendent got to his feet and turned to Greg. With a bellow, he shouted "Get after him, Lestrade!" Sally took off after the pair, as Lestrade gave her a look that could have killed. He followed, hoping to God that the pair would get safely away.
