Moran dragged Greg through a rear door of the mansion and threw him into a grimy alley.
The sailor pulled himself up – stunned.
"Hyde Park is that way, young sir… A right and then a left, then straight on, you see?" Moran instructed, "Over there." Moran pointed the way.
Flustered, Greg turned to look.
The instant his back was turned, Moran swung the cane Greg didn't notice he'd acquired and whipped him hard from behind, brutally, in the kidneys. Lestrade's knees buckled.
Moran then beat Greg across the back of the neck and the young sailor fell hard. Moran used one heavy, boot-clad foot to roll him over.
Lestrade gazed up at him, panting for breath, in agony.
"You heard Judge Moriarty, little man," he pressed the end of his cane into Greg's forehead, grinding it hard, "Next time it'll be your pretty brains all over the pavement," Moran smiled sickeningly; and, with that, returned to the mansion and slammed the door.
The sailor slowly pulled himself to his knees, doubled over and coughed up blood which oozed from his chapped lips.
Greg caught his breath, wiping the blood from his face.
I'll steal you,
Mycroft,
I'll steal you!
Do they think that walls can hide you?
Even now I'm at your window.
I am in the dark beside you,
Buried sweetly in your ginger hair.
He pulled himself up, every movement agony, and made his way down the alley, leaning on the wall for support.
Greg limped from the dark alley into the bright sunlight. He made his way along the filthy street.
I feel you, Mycroft,
And one day I'll steal you.
Till I'm with you then,
I'm with you there,
Sweetly buried in your ginger hair…
Greg stopped at a park across the street from Moriarty's mansion, and bravely gazed up at Mycroft's window.