"Message for you, Lestrade." Hopkins caught me as I came in to work the following morning.
"Thank you." I took the envelope and continued towards my office.
I closed the door behind me as I opened he envelope, but paused before removing the letter as the writing on the front of the envelope caught my eye.
There was something about the handwriting, but I couldn't quite pinpoint what. I brushed aside the thought that I should know what it was, and set the envelope aside to worry over later. Then I pulled out the letter.
"Hopkins!" I bellowed as I saw the signature. I found myself fumbling for my chair, my feet no longer steady.
Hopkins flung the door open, alarm written across his features. "Lestrade?" He caught sight of my face, which must have shown some of what I was feeling, for he took a step closer. "Are you alright?"
I shook my head and tried to pull myself together. "Where did you get this?" I still held the letter; I was dimly aware that I was waving it in the lad's face.
"Someone asked me to give it to you. A book collector, by the looks of him. An older fellow. Why? Hopkins was really starting to look worried now. I slid the envelope across the desk towards him.
"Whose handwriting is that?" I asked.
Hopkins looked at the envelope. Then he looked at me, eyes wide, all the color washed from his face. I offered him the letter. The lad took it, and looked back up at me. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something.
All that came out was a squeak.
"Breathe." I told the lad. Hopkins eyes darted from the letter to me and back to the letter.
"Breathe, Hopkins." I said, a little more loudly.
Finally I slapped him. I didn't want the boy passing out in my office.
Hopkins blinked and took a breath. "What are you going to do?" He asked.
"I'm going to do what he asks." I replied. "It is him." I hesitated. "Isn't it?"
"Who else could it be?" Hopkins was hesitant as well, now. "But is it possible?"
I considered this. "If anyone could survive Moriarty, he could." I pointed out. "And it's not like he's never purposely deceived or kept us in the dark before."
"But his death?" Hopkins wanted to know.
"If he thought he had a reason, he might." I said.
Hopkins frowned. "What is it's a trap?" He threw the idea out.
That had occurred to me. "That's why I'm going. I'll take Adams and Smith with me. They can handle themselves."
Hopkins still wasn't pleased. "At least have backup nearby, just in case."
"You going to stand watch all night, just in case?" I replied.
"Sure." Hopkins nodded. "I'll have a few Constables on hand. But until we're sure, the fewer people that know, the better." He said reasonably. He did have a point there. This was going to cause enough of a stir when it got out as it was.
"Alright, Hopkins. Next street over, out of sight. I won't bother with a police whistle. You read the note, you know what time to be there."
Another nod. "And I'll keep the Constables out of the know. I hate doing that to them, but-"
"But the fewer people who know, the better." I finished.
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.