Greg breathed a sigh of relief when he saw 'Sherlock' and 'John' approaching. As he got a better look at them, however, he became concerned for his friends. 'Sherlock' looked even paler than normal and his face looked drawn. There were lines of stress at the corners of the taller man's eyes that Lestrade had never seen there before. 'John' didn't look much better. He looked as though he had been hit be a lorry but hadn't realised it yet. "You weren't joking, John. He looks like shit. Hell, so do you."
'John' glared at the DI, obviously in an unusually bad mood. "Let's get this over with, Lestrade." He placed his hand at 'Sherlock's' waist and guided him towards the doorway where Greg stood.
The DI raised an eyebrow at 'John' calling him by his family name and stood out of the way so the two men could pass. 'Sherlock' walked into the room with 'John' by his side. They kept their heads close together, the taller man pointing to different things and the shorter man nodding. More than once, 'Sherlock' stopped where he was and grabbed his curls, pulling, until 'John' gently extricated them.
Greg couldn't stand it any longer. "John, a word."
'Sherlock' turned to look at Lestrade, his mouth opening as if to speak, but he closed it and caught his friend's attention, pointing to the DI. 'John' gave a start, scowled, then walked over to talk to him.
"What is it, Les... Greg?" 'John' asked in a clipped manner.
The DI shook his head. "What is it? You called me Lestrade earlier. You almost did it again just now and Sherlock... he looks like he's coming apart at the seams. So, you tell me, what's going on?"
The shorter man gave Greg a defiant look. It was very un-John like. "It's simple enough, even you should be able to see it. He has a migraine. I've had to deal with it so I'm... a bit out of sorts. Now if you want this case solved..." 'John' stalked back to his friend's side and rested a calming hand at the small of his back. They resumed their discussion and circuit of the room.
Greg reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his mobile. Something was very, very wrong. He was tempted to call Mycroft Holmes right that moment, but hesitated. If he did, his friends might pull a runner together. He decided it would be best to wait and call the instant they left the crime scene.
The two men completed their discussion and approached the DI. "Find the uncle," 'Sherlock' said, the same strain that was evident in his features, audible in his voice. "He's angry to have been cut from his parents' will and seeks to get his share through ransom. The girls would have trusted him and gone with him willingly."
Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose. The uncle had seemed so distraught over the missing girls and what had been done to them. "Sometimes I hate this job."
'Sherlock' gave him a sympathetic look. "Yeah. Me too." He gave himself a shake. "Anyway. The girls are likely being kept in the uncle's basement, moved there after any routine preliminary police search. He's not very bright and doesn't expect suspicion to fall on him."
"I need you to walk me through it," Greg insisted.
'Sherlock' grabbed at his head as if in pain.
"Later." 'John's' tone allowed no argument. "I need to get him back to the flat and into a dark room. "You have what you need to find the girls. He can take you through it later."
The DI nodded. "Right. Call me as soon as he's feeling better." He watched the two men go, then pulled out his phone and dialled Mycroft. The moment the government official answered, Greg spoke, "Mycroft, something's wrong with your brother. And John. Something's very wrong." There was a pause. "What do you mean you know?" Another pause. "Then what the bloody hell are you doing about it?" Pause. "That's not good enough!" His connection went dead and he was left staring at his phone.