I was late and had to hurry. Luckily St. James's Park Station wasn't too far from the Yard and I managed it to squeeze into the carriage just before the doors closed. I wanted to make a detour home and fetch a few things before I'd pay my boss a visit.
It wouldn't be an easy one and I had quite a lot of questions. The ride would take about half an hour but with recent works on the District Line one could never be too sure. My feet hurt and I was glad when I could sit down.

After a few years of having to take this route at least two times a day I learned not to be too picky with the seats, just don't pay too much attention to the person sitting next to you. I made that mistake a few times and got to know London's finest lunatics, who wouldn't stop talking.
I closed my eyes and sighed.
"Long day?" My neighbour next to me asked. 'Dear God, please, not today.' I thought and smiled politely. "You can say so." I hoped he would shut up now.
"Must have been so with that corspe from the river." I was awake in a second. "Pardon?" I asked and looked at him. Average by all means.

"Saw it in the papers. Tragic, tragic." Something in his voice was putting me off and alarmed me at the same time. My feet were forgotten. "Did you know her?" I asked curiously and he smiled. A shiver ran down my spine. That wasn't a polite smile or even a sympathetic one. It was the smile of a predator. "Let me tell you a story, Sergeant Donovan." He said in a velvet tone and I felt a knot in my stomach. "I can't recall the papers stating my name." He shook his head. "Oh no, they didn't. Now be good and listen to my little story."
The so well known surrounding of an ordinary carriage became like an underground den. A room full of tension and foreboding and I couldn't do anything else but listening to the stranger with his velvet voice, bringing down what I believed in, whom I looked up to and he made me decide in the end. And his tale began like this:

"My name is Charles Augustus Milverton.
Sometimes, and this is my belief, someone who knows everything and has his hands tied firmly by nothing more than himself is serving my purpose better than any form of blunt threat or dull accusation. I make them accomplices against their wish and will.
Their squirming and struggling and battling and fighting with and against themselves is my greatest reward.
From time to time.

Your woman from the river has a name. Her name is Evelyn Moore. She lived a nice, happy life in a nice house with two nice children and a husband. They lived their lives just like Alistair Knell and his little happy family but like it always happens, everyone of them kept a secret.
I like secrets, you must know Sergeant Donovan. Secrets…" he paused to taste the word like a sommelier. "Secrets are something so precious. And for me they are a," he made a gesture with his hand, self pleased like he'd own this city and everyone who ever lived in it, no matter if they were now dead like Alistair Knell and Evelyn Moore. "currency." He finished and let silence fall between us for a moment. I didn't look at him again.
"Do you know who Alistair Knell really was? He was a small- timer. He tried to get his hands into some dirty business and I happened to give him some advice. But alas, he refused to pay my price."

He liked himself so much in this role. It made me feel angry. "Who is Uirlis?" I asked to make him stop bragging. He laughed lowly. "Ah, that one. You called the Irish police, didn't you? Sweet, little Sally Donovan." I wanted to gauge his eyes out. "It was just an appropriate name. He is not of interest. He is a messenger as you like. Just like your boss only that Lestrade never reached so high. He was just the chauffeur for a while." Now I looked up. "Oh yes. Didn't you know? He took a week off just to serve as my driver. We had a job to do and a package to deliver. One of the nasty little tasks someone else refused to do. Lestrade just couldn't keep his fingers off it. Now, Sergeant, do put this into context for me, will you?"

"He met her." I simply said, not being able to keep a certain tone of disappointment or even defeat out of my voice.
"He drove her while she was trapped in the boot of the car. Took him long enough to figure it out. You should have heard him when he did. All those promises he made and never kept. I bet he is the same with you." The man leaned back, satisfied.
"I've got a few more questions." I said and he clicked his tongue. "No Sergeant. I won't answer them. I'm just going to solve you your case."
I felt weak in this moment and I hated it. It was one of those promises I made to myself. I would always stand strong and tall, no matter what. Up to now I had always kept it.

"The man who shot Alistair Knell is called Victor Krutikov. He owed me a favour and this was what I wanted in return. Alistair had been such a bad business partner. Always took and never paid back. You see how it goes."
"You made his wife a widow and his children fatherless. You destroyed more than one life." I said and he leaned closer that I could feel his breath on my cheek. "Finally you show your anger. You must be boiling under this smooth surface of delicate skin." His voice was so low like the purr of a cat. "I told you, I'd close this case for you. Every whiff of mystery around it can be put aside in that pretty mind of yours. Or on your notebook rather likely. It is nothing else but this. A murder. Victor Krutikov shot Alistair Knell, who refused to abduct Evelyn Moore.

Evelyn Moore had to die because people are idiots. You should know better than me. Everything else can be considered a bonus for my own entertainment." He laughed lowly, again so pleased with himself. "You know that you won't be able to close these cases. Not without more than names and facts a stranger whispered into your ear. You know that I'm right, that I'm telling you the truth and still your hands are tied. As I said, someone who knows everything and has his hands tied firmly by nothing more than himself is serving my purpose better than anything else."

"One more thing." I demanded and I had to swallow hard against my dry mouth. "Who was your tool?" I looked at him, not shying away from his cold eyes and the steely glance. "Gunby." He said and in this moment I'd have loved to close my eyes and pray for the whole situation to be over. "I guess you won." I said and he got to his feet, touching my shoulder gently. "I know." He turned around before he left the train. His smile could have made hell freeze over. "This is my gift for you, Sergeant Donovan. Make of it what you wish." With that he was gone and I was left with solved cases that could never be solved.

While he was still speaking and explaining this tiny part of his network to me I already made the decision to protect whom I always believed in. It was a question of ethics and I decided against Evelyn and Alistair. Against their families and friends and I sold a tiny part of my utmost convictions to protect another man and his family.
To serve and protect.
I made a decision. I became part of his network, part of his plans and games but I would never cease to stand tall. I have to hold on to something. Someone.

May you be worth it, Gregory Lestrade.