The Devonshire Squires Chapter Seven

"I'm sorry, sir, but we've lost him. Again."

Mycroft was giving her that look. The one that said he was annoyed on so many levels that she knew he would not say anything, lest he say something he would later regret. His silence was in its own way more terrifying than anything he could have said. It spoke volumes. And she knew that the only person who could drive him to this level of irritation was his brother, but she had no further news to report.

Even so, the silence was so painful that she felt compelled to make an effort to explain. "He was tracked going into the building. The agent following him said he was watched as he went in. The only entrance and exit from the site was kept under surveillance. When the Met investigation team finished and left for the day, our new man, Ashley Lewis, went in to see why Sherlock had stayed behind. The GPS on his phone placed him in the building but Lewis found nothing- except his phone. At the risk of compromising the crime scene, we sent in four more people, including one with a heat imager, so if he was hiding in the building, we'd find him. But there was nothing."

He just looked at her, his face stony.

She swallowed and carried on with her report. "I then asked the team to verify that there was no way of escaping. A thorough examination showed the building was sealed- doors and windows welded shut. We have no idea how he managed to get out, but he isn't there now. And he hasn't been picked up anywhere in the last four hours."

She watched as he closed his eyes and sighed.

Somehow that was even worse than him saying something. It was a gesture of emotion that she knew he would never share with anyone but her. That didn't make it any easier to take.

"I'm sorry."

The repetition of her apology didn't help matters, but the words just slipped out.

He opened his eyes and they were calm again. "No need to apologise, my dear. None of the team is to blame. He's had two years to perfect the art of disappearing. You may activate Plan Samaritan. Let's see if that turns anything up." He turned back to the file on his desk, and resumed reading.

She nodded, and then left, already texting the stand-by surveillance and protection team that it would have to start digging deeper. Plan Samaritan was simple- find Sherlock, assuming that he needed to be taken into care. CCTV surveillance would be ramped up- fortunately, image recognition software had improved over the past two years, and he wouldn't know where all of the new cameras had been posted. Not yet anyway. The Homeless Network would come under scrutiny. Every drug dealer known to Sherlock in the past would be scouted; hospitals quietly notified. Every known bolthole would be put under surveillance.

Before she had even left the corridor outside Mycroft Holmes' office, she was dialling a certain number in the Metropolitan Police. She wondered if he would recognise the number. Caller ID would probably be reserved for her boss's number; she had only ever played the intermediary.

He picked up on the third ring. "Lestrade." There was wariness in his tone.

"Detective Inspector." She hoped he would recognise her voice, despite the two and bit years' gap. She would prefer not to have to make up another false name. It was rather tedious.

"What does he want now?" The tone was now weary, rather than wary.

"When his brother left the crime scene on Font Street, did he say where he was going? How did he seem to you?"

"Don't tell me, you've lost him."

She let silence be her answer.

"Bloody hell; if you people can't keep an eye on him, then who the hell can?"

"No one, apparently, Detective Inspector, which is probably what he wants but is most likely not what he needs. Any ideas?" She made it as cool as she dared.

"He's looked like shit for the last three weeks. No better today. In fact, if anything, he's been getting worse. The Gunpowder Plot kept him going for a while, but once that was over, things changed."

She considered this. "The Tilbury Case suggests that his skill and appetite for this kind of work is still there, or are you saying something happened that we didn't see?"

"Yeah, well, you know what he's like once the adrenaline wears off. This time it was like ten times worse. I thought this case might cheer him up, but I made a mistake. I invited John Watson to the crime scene without telling him. To say he was pissed off is putting it mildly."

She registered that fact, which corroborated the surveillance team's own findings. It had been three weeks since Watson had been to 221b, and the phone records showed minimal text contact. "Has he solved the current case?" She knew that if it was still under investigation, then there was more hope that he would surface again.

"Yes, and no. He's given us enough leads that we were able to identify the body about an hour ago. It doesn't look like a murder, but the circumstances of the death are a bit suspicious, despite that. He said he will keep digging, even though this one would be hard to prosecute as anything but accidental death, or maybe illegal gambling, which is not my division."

She raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. "When did he leave the scene?"

"About twenty minutes after he got here. How could you people not have picked him up on camera?"

"That is the question. And we were looking, I assure you. We also checked the building after your team left- no sign."

"What about his usual bolt holes?"

"No luck yet. So, if you do see him, or if he contacts you in any way, we will know because we will be monitoring your phone. Do what you can to get him into circulation again. His brother is greatly concerned."

There was a pause, then Lestrade answered, "Well, I am, too. I'll let you know if he breaks cover."