Chapter Four
When Donovan woke up the next morning, the first thing she smelled was coffee and scrambled eggs.
The sun was shining, traffic could be heard, and her bed was comfy and warm. It was almost enough to make her forget about what happened last night. ... Almost.
Five minutes later, she finally dragged herself out of bed and threw on a bathrobe before wandering out of her room.
Wendy, a friend of hers from dispatch was bustling around in her kitchenette, making breakfast. "Morning, Sally!" the young woman greeted, a look of concern on her face. "Are you alright?"
Donovan breathed in, and let it out slowly. "Sure. All things considered." she replied neutrally.
"Hope you didn't mind me staying the night." Wendy continued chattering, eager to keep the conversation flowing. "You didn't look like you'd mind."
"To tell the truth, I'm just glad that there was someone in the flat with me." Donovan confessed.
"You should thank your Detective Inspector, too." Wendy smiled. "That lovely Mister Lestrade, he stuck around after all the rest of the boys went home." The dispatch officer had always had a soft spot for the handsome detective.
"Lestrade? Is he here?" Donovan self-consciously ran a hand through her wild hair.
"Oh, he's out now." Wendy assured her. "He stayed the night, but went out to get some milk. You ran out."
Donovan blushed. "Yeah, I did."
Great, now her superior officer knew she was a forgetful woman who never had any proper food in the house. Next thing she'll know, Lestrade will write out shopping lists for her and will remind her to go shopping every time she leaves work. Not to mention all the health lectures he'd put her through if he saw all those microwave dinners in her freezer. ... Oh, who was she kidding? Of course he saw them!
Donovan dropped her head in her hands and let out a groan. It was one thing to have a DI who worried about her safety, it was another thing to have Lestrade father her. God knew he had those sort of tenancies to just jump in and help out.
It was widely rumored that that was how they got stuck with the Freak. Lestrade should stop feeding the strays.
Just then, the front door handle rattled. Donovan jumped with fright.
Then, the door opened and Lestrade walked in. "Oh, Donovan!" he smiled kindly. "How are you holding up?" Sure enough, the plastic shopping bag he was carrying didn't have only milk inside. Donovan inwardly groaned.
"I'm doing okay, I think." she replied.
Lestrade sidled past her into the kitchen and plopped the shopping bag onto the counter. Oh, and out came the milk, yogurt, fruits, and vegetables...
Lestrade suddenly turned around and narrowed his eyes at his sergeant.
"Please don't start, Sir." Donovan sighed almost pleadingly.
"Sally June Donovan, I know what's in your fridge." Lestrade cut her off sternly. "Mold."
Donovan grimaced and braced herself for the reprimand of her life. I mean, he pulled out the middle name. And, well... mold!
"Dull." Sherlock groaned, tossing the case file into the air haphazardly and trusting John to dive after it.
"Sherlock..." Lestrade sighed.
"I'm sure even you can handle a simple case like this!" Sherlock exclaimed indignantly. "John may think I'm a magician with solving cases, but I don't put out for birthday parties!"
"Please?" Lestrade asked.
"This is a two-point-five case." Sherlock declared. "No."
"Three bodies turn up in the same number of days. And I don't see any indication of this serial killer stopping there." Lestrade pointed out.
"Look at the decomposition of the bodies!" Sherlock huffed. "The first one must've died days ago!"
"The last one died yesterday." Lestrade shot back. "Our killer's probably out there killing, now!"
"Something to look forward to." Sherlock scoffed apathetically.
"Sherlock!" Both Lestrade and John chorused in the same appalled tone.
"What?" Sherlock whined like a kicked dog at being outmatched.
"We believe the killer approached Donovan outside her flat last night." Lestrade told him after a moment of silence.
Sherlock immediately took interest. "Jesus, is she alright?" John asked, concerned.
"The killer warned her off the case and fired twice in warning." Lestrade continued. "Nobody was hurt but Donovan was pretty understandably shaken. She's taking some time off." He spread his hands, palms up. "I'm asking you, Sherlock. Please?"
John's stern look forbade Sherlock from refusing the case. Damn him.
"Fine."
Lestrade nodded his thanks and left.
Sherlock's phone buzzed with an incoming text. Killer may have visited Lestrade's flat and left message. Failure to apprehend unacceptable. -MH
Sherlock read the message and snorted. Then, he jumped up from his chair and grabbed his coat. "Come on, John!" he exclaimed. "Time to see some dead people."
"Oh, wonderful." John sighed, but followed..
"Mary, Mary, quite... contrary." Lestrade recited slowly as he wrote the words down on the murder board.
Those obviously meant something to the killer if Donovan was warned off the case because of it.
Lestrade yawned and reminded himself to go check up on her later. He sat at his desk and rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn't had a proper sleep since the beginning of the case because of all the mysterious messages left on his doorstep, bodies being discovered, and Donovan nearly being killed.
He felt himself slipping away and shook himself with a grunt. That's it, he was going home.
Well, not his home, Mycroft's home. Yeah. There.
Lestrade pulled his coat on and decided to call a cab instead of driving. He might be too tired for that. He dialed for a cab just as he was leaving the Yard only to see a black car pull up.
Anthea opened the back passenger door. "Inspector Lestrade." she greeted.
"Oh, I am so not awake enough for this." Lestrade groaned to himself, then stopped. "Shit, I said that aloud, didn't I?"
Anthea smiled half-sympathetic, half-wry. "Yeah."
Lestrade rolled his eyes and got in the car. "Where are we going?"
"To Mister Holmes's office." Anthea replied in clipped tones.
"I thought Mycroft was overseas." Lestrade said dumbly.
"His office does not travel with him, I assure you." Anthea replied breezily.
Lestrade leveled her a flat look. "What's going on?"
"Security breach." Anthea said simply and typed away on her Blackberry.
I got a new hobby. I love my phone. Security breach. Lovely day, isn't it?
Lestrade thought it was amazing how Anthea could say such things so casually. "Right."
"This was left for you on the doorstep." Anthea continued, handing him a brown envelope without even looking. "And don't worry, we've had it tested for poisons, explosives, and anything threatening under the planet, really. It's safe to open."
Lestrade looked at the envelope and realized, for the first time, that it hadn't been opened. How nice of her.
He wedged his fingernail under the lip of the envelope and ripped it open neatly.
He tipped the envelope and several glossy photos slid out.
"Stop." Lestrade paled dangerously, staring at the mess of colour in his lap. "Stop the car, right now!"
The car screeched to a halt.