Disclaimer: settings and characters as depicted in BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.
Scotland Yard Shenanigans
AN – I take liberties with the Bank of England and Conan Doyle's story line in this one...
Lestrade did not appear pleased to see them. The DI was buried in paperwork and had a few shots of Molly's crime scene up on the walls. Sherlock drifted over to look at the data, checking that the Yard was in the dark as to what had really happened. There had been the usual news reports on the accident, but nothing that suggested their ruse was about to be exposed, which was exactly what Sherlock expected.
"Are you here for a reason, or has boredom merely sent you my way?" Lestrade asked sourly. A small and distant part of Sherlock mourned the loss of the man's good opinion, though the consulting genius did his best to ignore it. Lestrade had believed in him when the rest of the world thought him a nutter, so this distance in their relationship was not ideal. John also disliked it, but would not discuss it with Sherlock, becoming tight lipped when pressed.
"I've come to alert you to a bank robbery," Sherlock threw himself into the 'visitors' chair and folded his arms, glaring at Lestrade in challenge. This was the first time he'd tried to get the older man to listen to one of his 'hunches' since the 'job offer' and he wasn't too sure that the Yarder would listen.
"Where and when and who?" Lestrade sounded tired, but he picked up a pen to take notes, "And how did you come by this information?"
Unspoken was the question about Moriarty's involvement in this crime, which Sherlock knew was non-existent. This was the operation of one John Clay – a clever man with royal connections who could have been on par with Sherlock and Moriarty had he spent more time improving his mind and less considering a range of criminal pursuits. As it was, Moriarty would not object to Sherlock getting the man locked up.
"A client came to me about a con job that he'd been caught in," Sherlock sniffed, "He's no genius, so it shouldn't surprise me that he fell for it, really. His business is located in a prime position for the criminals involved, who contrived to get him out of the way in order to dig a tunnel."
"A tunnel," Lestrade wiped a hand over his face, "They're tunnelling into this bank. Of all the things they could have done, with today's modern technology, their choice of attack is to dig a tunnel."
"Into the Bank of England," Sherlock confirmed, "Or to be more accurate some old vaults in the Bank that no longer appear on the blue prints and contain old currency. To be precise, old currency that is damaged and therefore due to be destroyed: a large depository of untraceable bank notes."
"The perfect target," Lestrade groaned, "We've been hearing about someone going for the perfect target – a crime that not only would never be traced, it was unlikely that it would ever be noticed. We've been hitting the snouts, but so far nothing has come to light – nothing concrete, anyway."
"Ta-dah," Sherlock flung his arms apart, like a magician performing a trick. Lestrade glared weakly and John muffled an amused noise behind him, a perfect pair of responses. Having made his point, Sherlock leaned forward and began briefing Lestrade on the particulars of the crime, as well as how he wished to apprehend the criminals. The door opened after thirty minutes of planning and light debate and Sally stuck her head in, scowling at Sherlock in a distinctly hostile manner.
"Are you alright, sir?" she asked, the question a calculated insult. In the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw John stiffen and stand up from where he'd been leaning on the wall near the DI's desk.
"What are you implying, Donovan?" John's voice was cold and hard, "Are you trying to say that Sherlock is a threat to the DI? That we're holding him in his office against his will: because if you're implying that, then we have a serious problem. One that I for one am not interested in resolving. Sherlock and I can just leave and you can attempt to solve the crime we've brought to your attention without our assistance."
"Dr Watson," Lestrade stood, "I apologise for Donovan's lack of manners and common sense. Donovan, unless you have a good reason to be here, I suggest you leave at once. We'll discuss your behaviour later."
Looking as if she'd swallowed a hairbrush, Donovan pulled her head out of the office and shut the door behind her. John slowly returned to his slouched posture against the wall. It was deceptive in its languor, something that Sherlock unexpectedly appreciated. He'd never needed protection from the people he dealt with, but having it offered by someone he respected, someone who respected him made him feel unexpectedly pleasant.
Putting the feeling aside for the moment, Sherlock continued to plan with Lestrade, acting as if nothing had happened. It was a trick that he had observed made people feel uncomfortable. People thought it was polite or nice to keep apologising for awkward scenes, which Sherlock felt was a waste of time and stupid. If Lestrade was off balance, then Sherlock would be able to get his own way when it came to working out who went where and did what.
John chimed in from time to time, offering his expertise in capture and evasion from the army. He raised several good points and managed to break a stalemate when Sherlock couldn't get Lestrade to understand what he wanted to do. In short, his Heart proved once more that his worth to Sherlock's agency was not to be underestimated.
And as far as Sherlock was concerned, that was almost as valuable as his physical protection.