There's a surprise bittersweet ending to this story. I really didn't see it coming; it sort of came out that way.
Anyhoo, here's the (actual) last part. I hope you guys enjoy!
God bless and have a great day (or night)!
ThePro-LifeCatholic
JesuslovesMarina: Writing this out, it seems like it's John Riddell, living a double life as Greg Lestrade. But even I don't really know who came first. I'll leave it up to the reader's imagination. Also, I'm probably gonna go check out your new story now…*grins evilly and rubs hands together*
The morning of Sherlock's badly-timed phone call…
…It had been only a few hours after Lestrade had gone off with the Doctor, Amy, Rory, and Queen Nefertiti.
And he had told the Doctor not to try communicating to Karnfallas. They were extremely aggressive, intolerant creatures. They were solitary, unless they felt threatened. If this was the case, Karnfallas would come from miles away and join into one large destructive horde of savage carnage. They had wings, but only the juveniles could fly, which was a bit of a win/lose situation right there.
Any pros? Well, they had no sense of smell.
Cons? They had remarkably keen sight and hearing. So the best you could do was try to sneak close enough to get a killing shot, hoping like heck the whole time that they wouldn't hear you stepping on daisies.
And he had told him. Riddell had told the Doctor numerous times not to try negotiating with them. He peered from behind a rock, leveling his huge gun. An enormous blast rocketed across the plain; several Karnfallas fell motionless to the ground. John grinned; a Karnfalla wing would be perfect in his collection.
It was about now that his phone began to ring.
He could've sworn that he had turned it off, or left it in the TARDIS, but it was definitely in one of his (many) pockets, and it was most certainly ringing.
He cowered down behind the rock, digging through his pockets, finally fishing out his cell phone. Without stopping to look at the number, he pressed the "call" button and put the phone against his ear.
"Hello? Who is this?" he yelled, hoping his voice was louder than the noise around him.
There was no response for a moment, allowing John Riddell to take an assessment of how everyone else was doing. Amy and Rory were sticking together, weaving in and out between rocks, tree stumps; basically anything on that relatively flat and empty field that they were currently in. The Doctor was running around with his sonic extended, doing…well…something.
"Lestrade?" a voice cackled into the device. Distracted, Greg returned to the conversation.
"Yeah? Who is this? What do you want?"
The voice came again, and Riddell's stomach lurched unexpectedly.
Sherlock. Sherlock was calling him.
"RIDDELL, BEHIND YOU!" a voice screamed from somewhere. Twisting his head up and around, Riddell was just in time to see a young Karnfalla getting ready to dive down (probably with the intention of smashing him flat). A blast from his cannon-like shotgun quickly resolved that threat. Picking up his phone (it had dropped to the ground), he put it back up to his ear. Sherlock was just finishing a sentence (or whole bunch of sentences).
"Sorry," Greg roared into the device, "couldn't make that out!" In the background, several Karnfallas screeched loudly, rounding up the herd. "D'you mind repeating that?"
He listened attentively as Sherlock explained their predicament. Apparently, Mr. Holmes, John Watson, Sally, and some other Scotland Yard people were investigating a crime scene. But Lestrade couldn't see what that had to do with him. Wasn't Sherlock happier the less people there were, anyway?
"OK, got it that time! I'm…uh…" Riddell looked around, trying to imagine Sherlock's face if he told him what was really going on over on his end of the line. "…I'm on vacation."
"That's next week!" the voice responded. Lestrade knew that it was next week, darn it. He didn't need Sherlock reminding him of that. From beyond the rock, the Doctor had managed (somehow) to get on top of one of Karnfallas, and dashing to and fro, trying to knock the Doctor off of its back. Pulling a hat from nowhere, the Doctor proceeding to ride the alien monster bronco-style.
"Watch out!" Neffy was yelling. "Karnfallas are extremely noxious (noxious is a fancy word for deadly)!"
"MY HAIR!" Amy screamed from somewhere. She had just noticed that her beautiful ginger hair had changed to a light shade of purple (Riddell told them to stay out of the bushes. Rostria plants caused…unusual defensive side effects when touched).
Oh, right! Conversation!
"Next week? Darn it all! I'll…uh…I'll be in…uh…yeah. My office! I'll be in my office!" (Highly doubtful. Also, he had no clue how he was getting there that morning. And of course Sherlock would question this. He really needed better cover-ups).
Riddell decided it would be better to end the call right then and there. "Sorry, Sherlock; gotta go." Before he could hang up, however, Nefertiti ran over to him.
"Honey, taking a phone call at a time like this? Karnfallas aren't going to kill themselves, you know!"
"I know that Neffy!" Riddell snapped. "Just a moment!"
"Riddell! We need you now!" the Doctor called in the background. Looking behind him, John sighed to see Rory being lifted into the air by several Karnfallas, and Amy freaking out about her hair and the safety of her husband.
Pressing "end call", Riddell dropped the phone into a pocket, and cocked his gun.
"Alright, Karnfallas; ready for mounting?"
Several hours and a perfectly preserved Karnfalla wing later, John Riddell, Amelia and Rory Pond, and Queen Nefertiti were sitting in the TARDIS. Random pedestrians in 21st century London strolled by, not seeming to notice the out-of-place police box that had randomly appeared next to a café. The Doctor was inside the small restaurant at that very moment, purchasing coffee and donuts for everyone. Lestrade finished polishing his beautiful weapon, placing it gently into the case and snapping it shut. He made sure that all his belongings were packed away, and admired the lovely wing. It was the perfect addition to his collection.
"How am I supposed to be seen like this?" Amy moaned, gazing at her purple locks. No one said anything about Rory's neon green hair.
"I told you, it'll fade in a couple hours, nothing to worry about," Riddell shook his head. "And you're lucky. Prolonged exposure creates even more problems than hair color."
"What sort of problems?" Mrs. Pond wanted to know. Instead of answering her question, Greg went to the TARDIS doors and peeked out. The Doctor was just exiting the shop as a cop car sped by. John Riddell leaned out of the TARDIS, trying to make out the figures in the passing car.
"It's Sherlock!" he exclaimed, retreating into the TARDIS. "Sherlock's on his way to Scotland Yard!"
He explained his predicament to the Doctor, who immediately started up the ship. Several seconds later, he snapped his fingers, revealing the interior of Scotland Yard beyond the doors.
Lestrade jumped out, followed by the Doctor and Neffy.
"See you around, Neffy," Lestrade smiled. "I'll call you when I get the chance."
"Will do." The Egyptian queen smirked.
"I'll hold your coffee and donut," the Doctor stated. So Lestrade shouldered his bags and dashed through the hallways of the building. The Doctor followed closely behind, coffee sloshing out of the cup and onto the carpet and his hands.
When they reached Lestrade's office, Riddell stepped inside and shut the door. He pulled a white shirt, dress pants and belt, and a pair of work shoes from his knapsack. After putting these on, he took off his Indiana-Jones vest and turned it inside-out. The reversible side looked just like a vest; this went on over the shirt. Opening the door, he took the coffee and donut from the Doctor's hands.
"Thanks, Doc," he said, shaking the alien's wet hands.
"No problem," the Doctor responded warmly.
"You know, I have a couple days of vacation next week," Lestrade said. "I was thinking maybe we could see the Great Wall. I know Neffy would love it."
"I'll see what I can do," the Doctor promised. Without waiting for another word, the bowtie-wearing alien spun on his heel and ran back the way he came.
Lestrade showed himself into his office. He tossed the knapsack and gun-case underneath the desk. Collapsing into the chair, he threw his legs up onto the wooden surface of his desk, and took a huge bite of donut (which he quickly gulped down). With his other hand, he reached up to rub down his hair.
The hat!
Yanking the fedora off his head, Riddell tossed it into the wastepaper basket. He grabbed his cup of coffee, putting it to his lips just as the door opened.
The looks on Sherlock's, John's, and Sally's faces were priceless. How he wished he had his phone.
"How's the case going?" he asked cheerfully.
Sally, John, and even Sherlock were rendered speechless. The office doors swung shut behind them, and they stood in mute confusion. Greg looked questioningly at each one.
"Something the matter?" he enquired. Sherlock opened his mouth several times, eyes scanning the room. His gaze landed on the trash bin in the corner (the rim of a hat peeked out at him from the bin), then shifted to the detective inspector.
"Uh…no. Not at all. We were…just…uh," he turned to Sally and John for assistance.
"Just checking up on you, sir," Sally put forward. "You were late to work, and left us hangin' at the crime scene."
"I know, that was completely on me." Greg looked truly apologetic. "It won't happen again, I promise."
There was no response. The three simply nodded dumbly.
"So…let me just finish this," Lestrade waved the donut in the air, "and I'll be right over, alright?"
"Oh…yeah. Yeah. That should work. I mean…that will work. Yeah." John blinked and stuttered. Without another word, the flustered trio took their leave. But Sherlock cast one look back, his gaze fixed on the spot underneath Greg's desk. He could see a strange object, but was having trouble identifying it. After a moment of intense staring, the detective ducked out of the room, closing the door.
With a sigh of relief, Lestrade sunk further into his chair. Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.
"Hey, Neffy. Nice work back there."
"Why thank you," the Egyptian queen replied. "You didn't do too badly yourself."
"Haven't had too much excitement, have you?" he queried.
"As if," Nefertiti laughed.
"Just what I wanted to hear."
"Alright, Walking Innuendo; what's on your mind now?"
"What about the construction of the Great Wall? Now that's a sight worth seeing."
The conversation drifted on, and John Riddell found himself thinking:
What if this time…is last time?
He considered this. He would definitely miss seeing the Doctor and his friends, not to mention Neffy…
But she was an Egyptian empress from B.C. It simply wouldn't have worked out, not in the long-term sense.
And he found himself picturing Sherlock's shocked face. He grinned at the memory of John's stuttering and spluttering, and Sally's open-mouthed confusion.
Greg Lestrade slid further into his chair, biting off another chunk of donut. Greg Lestrade, in 21st century London, DI of Scotland Yard.
If last time was last time, he still had a heck of a life worth living right here.
Right, then. Last part. That stretched into a rather long chapter, but I like how it turned out. Hope you guys enjoyed!