Watching Brief (Part Two)
—Ten Days Later—
It is twenty-three miles in a south-easterly direction on backcountry lanes from the Arnsworth Castle Hotel to Hatfield Police station, where Jonathan Small has been taken to be arrested for the attempted murder. And, as Greg explains to the Essex police sergeant on duty there, "He's also wanted for attempted murder in London. The Met case will take priority because it happened first, but tuck him up for the night here. I'll do the liaison with the Essex Constabulary tomorrow morning when the evidence for both cases can be presented. His victim is Major Sholto who has been taken to Princess Alexandra Hospital in Harlow with a stab wound. You'll want to go around tomorrow and get a statement."
Is it Greg's imagination, or are policemen these days getting younger? The poor guy looks startled; probably the most exciting case he's seen for weeks has been a drunk run on the high street after pub closing time. Murder isn't something that tends to happen in this sleepy market town.
Determined to do things right, the Sergeant ensures that the paperwork takes ages.
When he is finally done dotting the i's and crossing the t's, Greg goes outside to where he'd parked his motorbike. He'd insisted on following the squad car that had picked up Small, thinking that he'd be able to go straight home from there. Due south on the M11, it would take him only a half hour.
He was tired. Trust Sherlock to turn a wedding into a crime scene.
The thought makes him stop and look northward. The dancing is bound to be in full swing by now. There isn't much point in returning to the hotel; he had not come with a plus one, and he isn't much of a dancer anyway. Come to think of it, neither is Sherlock, at least not to the sort of music that Mary and John are likely to have chosen for the DJ.
Greg slips his helmet on and starts the motor. Sherlock is surrounded by his friends, who will keep an eye on him tonight.*
oOoOoOoOo
At ten forty-five in the morning of the next day, Greg sneaks another look at his mobile on his office desk and sighs. No reply yet to his three text messages and two voice mails. Sherlock is playing hard to get, which is complicating Greg's efforts to get the paperwork sorted on Jonathan Small. The Essex Constabulary are happy to transfer the prisoner to the Met's jurisdiction, but Lestrade needs an official statement from Sherlock to make that happen. Somehow, he doesn't think that "I heard him explain the case in his wedding speech" will hold water in front of a judge when he tries to get the arrest warrant.
"Arnsworth Castle Hotel, Lisa Anne speaking. How may I help you?"
Greg gives his credentials. "Can you tell me if Mister Sherlock Holmes has checked out? If he's still there, can you put me through to his room, please?"
"Mister Holmes is not here. He checked out last night."
Last night?! What had led Sherlock to alter his plans? According to John, he was supposed to have stayed to see the couple off to bed, and then in the morning get them into their car to Stansted airport before settling the final account with the hotel and returning by car with Mrs Hudson to Baker Street. John had complained that the level of micro-managing was getting more than a bit weird by the end.
Greg knows he can't call John who is, by now, off on his honeymoon. The memory of their conversation at the pub still brings a smile. John had explained how, using his phone and laptop, he had laid a bogus trail to throw Sherlock off the scent. The site links showing in his browser history would point the nosey git in the direction of Paris and a romantic hotel on the Left Bank.
In fact, all the real arrangements had been made by John weeks ago, using the practice manager's desktop computer at the surgery. John had even found a way to keep the cost out of his bank account, should Sherlock go prying there. Sheila had been more than happy to be reimbursed by a post-dated cheque for her paying by her credit card the air tickets and hotel arrangements to Agadir on the Moroccan coast, especially when she got in return a free weekend in Paris, under the name of Mr and Mrs Watson.
Mary had wanted a sunny beach and warmth, and John was determined that she was going to get it without Sherlock knowing about it. Mary would be leaving her phone behind at their flat; John had planned to give his phone to Sheila, with instructions to take it to Paris but to ignore all the texts that were likely to come from Sherlock.
The idea of Sherlock attempting to micro-manage the honeymoon was just a step too far. He'd shaken his head at the pub when describing to Greg the lengths to which he'd felt he'd had to go to keep their privacy. "It's like I'm plotting a crime, and he's the Consulting Detective who's going to fail to solve it." They'd both laughed at that.
Greg really doesn't like the idea that Sherlock changed his plans at the last minute. What could have happened after he'd left for Hatfield with Jonathan Small in handcuffs? What could have gone wrong?
Without his usual Sherlock-location device in the shape of John, Greg decides to call Mrs Hudson.
It takes quite some time before there's an answer by her familiar voice. "Hello?"
"Hello Mrs Hudson; it's Greg Lestrade here. I've been trying to ring Sherlock all morning, and he isn't answering his phone. I called the hotel, and they said he left before midnight last night. Is he back at Baker Street now?"
"Oh, Detective Inspector! Sorry for taking so long; I was upstairs. No, he's not here; I haven't seen him since last night when he played for their first dance. I couldn't say when he left the disco. No one seems to remember seeing him go because we were all dancing and I only noticed his absence when we were watching the fireworks. He was supposed to come with me in a car back here this morning."
"Did John and Mary say anything this morning?"
"Oh, I don't know, my dear. I didn't see them off. To be honest, I have a bit of headache this morning, and I wasn't up early enough. I found a note from Sherlock in my room when I woke up—on his violin, which he asked me to bring back. It said he had other plans and I was to go on without him. You say he left the hotel last night? Oh, that's sad. I thought he'd be happy with that murder to solve and all—just his sort of thing, really."
"Yeah, well that's what kept me away for the rest of the evening, seeing to the suspect. He didn't say what those plans were? Any ideas where he might be?"
"Sorry, not a clue. I really thought he'd be upstairs sulking today, now that all his planning is over. When you do find Sherlock, could you tell him that the hotel manager wants to talk to him? Apparently, there are some loose ends he has to resolve before the final account can be settled. He was most insistent that I should tell Sherlock this, but he's not here now." Her tone of voice indicates that she is as worried, too.
"I'll keep looking. Do call me if he shows up."
oOoOoOoOo
"Is he there? I need to speak to him."
"I'm sorry, Detective Inspector, but he isn't available at the moment." The familiar tones of Mycroft Holmes' PA are as cool and professional as always, even when apologising.
"Do you know when he will be available?"
"I'm not at liberty to say."
"Great." He loads it with as much sarcasm as he can muster.
"Is there a problem?" Her received pronunciation is impeccable—almost too perfect—which makes him wonder if she is actually English. Do foreign students still learn a cut-glass accent at an English posh girl's school? It would not surprise Greg if Mycroft had put it in the job description.
He musters a weary sigh and then replies, "Good question; wish I knew the answer."
"If you could be more specific, then, perhaps, I could be of some assistance." This is said with some degree of edge.
"You know that yesterday was John Watson's wedding."
"I am aware of that fact, yes. Mister Holmes was invited to the evening function but had declined to attend. Need I remind you that he is a busy man? In fact, now it's even worse, because he has had to leave the country, due to something that happened last night. So, unless you can be specific about your concerns, I am not sure how I can help you."
Greg sighs. "Do you have eyes on Sherlock? I need to know where he is and that he is alright. He left the wedding early last night, without telling anyone where he was going. I also need him to give a formal witness statement for the two attempted murder cases, one of which happened last night at the wedding reception."
"Oh!" This time, the professional patina of her speech is tarnished a bit by surprise. " That is…rather unexpected. I will see if there is any information about his whereabouts and get back to you in a moment."
He tosses the phone back on his desk and picks up where he left off, typing in the details of what he can remember of Sherlock's description of the Mayfly Man case.
Ten minutes later, his phone rings and he spots on the screen that it is Mycroft's number. "Hello?"
"Me again, Detective Inspector. I am afraid we have no sightings since he was last traced to the hotel. If he left, we can only assume that he disabled his phone before going, so you have your reason for him not returning your calls. It has a tracker on it that should function even if it isn't on, but we are receiving no signal and the cameras we've checked between Stansted and London show no sign of him."
Is it his imagination, or does her voice now sound a bit more concerned?Greg's backstop with Sherlock has always been Mycroft's surveillance team. Big brother might be intrusive as hell, but at least he could usually be relied upon.
She continues, "Detective Inspector, what happened at the wedding? Did something occur that might trigger…such unhelpful behaviour?"
Her unwillingness to be blunt about Sherlock's drug abuse annoys Greg. "Yeah, well, if he's holed up somewhere taking his brain offline, then I expect we all need to recognise that John's marriage isn't going to be easy for him to deal with. Maybe Mycroft should have been there."
"Where were you, Detective Inspector? Weren't you the one who promised to keep an eye on him?"
Ouch. "I was taking an attempted murder suspect into the Essex police; sometimes, duty calls."
"Indeed." The tone is now decidedly frosty. "My employer is in the same position, only in his case, the security of the country is at stake. I will endeavour to inform him of the situation, but I know that he will be unable to do anything personally for some time. Of course, I will inform our people and SO6, but given Sherlock's capacity to remain off the radar for extended periods of time, I suggest that for now you deploy whatever personal knowledge you have. Keep me informed."
The line goes dead, leaving Greg glaring at his phone in utter frustration.
Author's notes: *What Sherlock did after he left the Arnsworth Hotel is covered in the last chapter of Magpie: Two for Joy and Greg has every reason to be worried. If you are curious about what Sherlock is up to, do read that chapter.
