A/N: The last chapter seemed to go over well, this story has a few more followers. Thank you to those reading and following. I don't normally post my writing in a public forum and this has been an interesting adventure.
As Lestrade makes his way over to Baker Street he catches a glimpse of himself in the rearview. His eyes are tired and the streetlights overhead make the lines on his face seem deeper. He is stopped by a red light and slams the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. He briefly considers turning on the siren to get this night over faster.
His mind was consumed entirely with thoughts of Serene; he couldn't even formulate a guess as to what Sherlock had summoned him about. As far as he was concerned the case was closed, he'd shot the bastard and now it was on to the next one. He couldn't stomach leaving things the way he had with Serene, her practically fleeing from him in the hallway of his apartment building. He couldn't imagine there were many work emergencies in the world of entomology. It had been someone else then that she had gone running to and the thought made him hot with anger. He must have been a disappointment to her then after such a long game of cat and mouse. He cursed his small fishbowl life that had left him so ill suited to please the woman who had fallen into his lap. He had spent thirty years trying to make it work with Katherine, because he had felt that had been the right thing to do, but what type of person had that made him?
By the time he pulled up to Baker Street Lestrade was fuming, at himself, at this case and at the most infuriating consulting detective on the planet. He had never felt envy towards the man before, he always considered him with a certain degree of sympathy. However after what could only be described as a disastrous sexual encounter he found himself profoundly envious of Sherlock's ability to rise above human companionship.
The door to Baker Street was unlocked and Sherlock was waiting for him in the apartment, his sleeves rolled up and three nicotine patches lining his pale arm.
"Well what is it?" Lestrade strides into the room, ready to turn around and leave at the slightest sign of difficulty from Sherlock.
Sherlock turns his head and takes in the DI's rumpled appearance. The creases in his shirt, the slight red marks on his neck and jawline. Lestrade looks awkward under Sherlock's gaze; the normally unflappable detective coughed and couldn't meet Sherlock's eyes.
A woman then, he had been in the middle of an encounter with a woman. Sherlock felt an unexpected stab of distaste realizing it must have been Serene.
Sherlock inhales sharply dismissing the emotion and turns the laptop in front of him to face Lestrade. He leans in squinting at the screen. After a short moment he straightens again.
"That is a coin."
"Very good, Detective but I was hoping for something a little bit deeper."
"It's a picture of a coin on a laptop. If this is all you have to show me you could have emailed."
"I was worried the significance would escape you if left to your own devices. Of course Doctor Laurent could have helped."
Lestrade feels cold at the idea that Sherlock knew exactly what had passed an hour before. He opens his mouth to ask and Sherlock raising his hand stops him.
"Do you really want to know, Detective?" He gives Lestrade a significant gaze from head to toe and Lestrade rolls his eyes in frustration.
"Okay, I give in what about this coin is so significant"
Sherlock lays a pound coin on the table he does it with a flourish that indicates it is important.
"Is that supposed to be a clue? Right, are they the same coin?"
Sherlock stands and begins pacing, point to the coin and the laptop frustratedly.
"Look, Detective, use your eyes! What makes that coin different from any other coin in London?"
Lestrade defiantly picks up the coin and turns it in the light. Scratched into its surface are the words "magnuficentia sanguine".
"Latin? Someone carved that into this coin."
"Yes, 'Pride in Blood'. A superficial translation from English to Latin, schoolboy level intrigue."
"Don't think they taught Latin in my school. How do you know it's connected?"
"I found it in the dead man's pockets."
"Why were you going through his pockets?" Lestrade raises his voice at Sherlock; he is shocked by his audacity.
"A better question is; why didn't you?"
"Because he's guilty, Sherlock. I don't need to know more than that. I shot him in an alley trying to commit the exact same crime again an hour after. Believe it or not you don't need a whole lot more proof than that."
"Except that Lauren Attwater was killed by someone else."
Lestrade's evening collapses around him; he knows too well that Sherlock would not have called him here unless he was certain of what he was saying. He sits on the couch in front of the laptop looking at it and the coin.
"Speaking of Ms. Attwater, perhaps you could shed some light on the fact her flat had been broken into."
Sherlock sets an engagement ring on the keys of his laptop. Lestrade rakes a hand through his hair his eyes rolled up to heaven.
"Christ's sake, Sherlock, this isn't consulting on a case it's damn near obstruction of justice."
"I found that coin inside the lining of the pocket, it was hidden so he wouldn't spend it by accident. It is a token one that would be dangerous to lose. I had Molly run tests on both Lauren's blood and the killer's; soon I can prove they were both being drugged. There must have been more victims, I wonder if they were all engaged to each other."
Sherlock loves revealing his cards to Lestrade, he may not be as effusive as John but with Lestrade it was like beating someone at a game they were playing.
"He was her fiancé? You said the killer would have her ring, now he's her fiancé? You have no proof that this wasn't anything more than an open and shut domestic."
"That coin is from the eighties; 1983 to be exact."
Lestrade holds it in his palm, it looks pristine to him he would never have guessed its age. "So?"
"So? SO. Look at it. It shines; no scuffs from other coins no wear from oil. Someone has been keeping it safe. The killer wasn't old enough, but the person who gave him that coin was."
"Lets say for the sake of argument, I believe you-"
"You do believe me." Sherlock's tone makes Lestrade want to punch him. He had forgotten how hard it was before John Watson.
"If I believed you, what proof do we have? To everyone concerned this looks very open and shut."
"Simple, we wait for him to kill again."
It's a ghoulish thought, waiting for another victim. There must be another way to prove this wasn't what it seemed. Lestrade couldn't think of one though, it was late and all of him ached from hunger and frustration. Nothing would change tomorrow; he could sleep and hopefully save another woman from a similar fate.
"You are saying there are more nutters out there with these coins."
"I am saying the killer spent significant effort protecting a coin that has no apparent value."
Lestrade fishes a small envelope out of the mess that is Sherlock's coffee table and drops the coin and the ring into it. "Alright then, I will look into it tomorrow."
As he reaches the door he pauses when he hears Sherlock's voice.
"You never told me where the good Doctor is? Why isn't she with you?"
"Work emergency."
Sherlock looks charmingly perplexed "Are there a lot of emergencies in entomology?"
"Piss Off." Sherlock looks bemused as Lestrade heads down the stairs.
Serene had been invaluable help this afternoon. Molly hadn't run any tests, in fact she refused to do anything more after Sherlock had nearly strangled Serene in the mortuary.
He flexes his hand that Serene had wounded with her nails. It had been an odd feeling strangling her like that. It had been controlled and violent, he didn't want to hurt her. Instead he wanted to see her reaction, help him make sense of Lauren Attwater's bruising. The unintended effect had been that she had been pulled against his body, close to him. He couldn't avoid observations about her scent, how soft her skin and hair was nor the pleasing firmness of her body against his. That was the part that was broken about him; he could compartmentalize so thoroughly. He was attacking a woman and appreciating her womanliness in the same hard straining breathes.
Serene it appeared had forgiven him completely once she understood how it had opened his mind to the case. How convenient a companion she was proving to be, that Lestrade was romantically pursuing her could prove an inconvenient distraction. Sherlock did not want to vie for her attention, or have to deal with sulking when sentiment got the best of her. The seduction on her balcony made him question how committed to Lestrade she actually was. Although John and Mary had ended up well and he supposed it was immaterial how she spent her time when he did not need her.