Guardian Ch. 2

Bright Lights


'I should have said no,' Greg kept repeating to himself.  'I can't let this man buy my way into Scotland Yard. I don't know these people.  Do I really need this position as bad as I think?'

He ran his hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply.  Greg stood in front of his locker, staring at it as if it had all the answers in the world.  He raised his hand and ran it over the cool metal.  It felt real to him, more than what had been happening in the past week; a whirlwind of events that started with him being a good citizen, and a good cop.  Now he had the opportunity of being a good Inspector.  Was he willing to sacrifice his own morals to take on a new position?  And take care of a recovering addict at the same time?

Greg Lestrade groaned and opened the locker.  His wife and their youngest boy, 16 month at the time the picture was taken a year ago, smiled out at him.  He smiled back, thinking about his oldest, Conner, a very precocious five year old boy.  Closing his eyes, he thought about the soccer games and the past five years with his wife, and how much he loved his family.  So much so, that it wasn't worth sacrificing his morals, possibly even the position.  He opened his eyes and touched the photo and made up his mind.

"Hello, Mycroft Holmes?  This is Greg Lestr-"

"You haven't turned in your paper-work.  I've been looking forward to reading your resume."

Greg was flabbergasted.  He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a squeak.

"I'm sorry, you said you were looking forward to reading my papers?"  He said when he recovered.

"Yes, you seem to be a fine and honest man, and I think you would make a great addition to the Scotland Yard team."

"I-..." Greg, ran his hand through his hair as he paced in front of his locker.

"Plus, I think you'll be good for Sherlock.  Put him in his place and all that."  Mycroft paused.  "You are clean, aren't you Mr. Lestrade?  I would hate to put an addict in charge of my addict little brother."

And there it was.  The truth of the whole relationship between the two men.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about all that, if you have time."

"Hum, yes. Go outside and wait.  A car will be there in ten minutes to pick you up."

Lestrade pushed the end button and shook his head as he looked at his phone.

'How does he know where I am?'

A chill ran down his back as he closed and locked his locker and walked out of the room.



Exactly ten minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb in front of Lestrade.  The windows were tinted, but the passenger side door opened and a man in a nondescript black suit stepped out and walked around to the officers side and opened the door for him.  At second glance, Lestrade saw that he was the bodyguard that had been standing at the hospital door earlier that day.

'Wonder if there is someone there now, or just when Mycroft is there.' Lestrade thought as he nodded at the man and stepped into the posh car.  

The ride was silent except for the small talk that Lestrade attempted and abandoned when the two men in the front seat weren't biting.  

It wasn't until Lestrade stepped out of the car that he realized that he was in a very rich part of town, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable.  The sun had just set and a chill had settled in as Lestrade pulled his jacket closer to himself.  The two men gestured for him to follow them to a large two-story flat that was white and very overstated on the outside.  Black wrought iron fencing surrounded  the building and the red door seemed out of place with everything.

The two men lead him through the flat that was as overstated on the inside.  A grand staircase met him in the foyer and a gaudy gold chandelier hung from the ceiling.  

"Mr. Holmes sir," the bodyguard said after opening a door to Lestrade's left.  "Mr. Lestrade is here."

"Yes, send him in."

Lestrade acknowledged the bodyguard and walked into the cozy sitting room. He stopped just inside the doorway, taking in the contradiction that was this room.  The air smelled of cloves, the lighting was muted and countless numbers of books in countless amounts of bookcases.  Scarlet drapes hung in front of the floor to ceiling windows and a small fire was burning in the fire place.

"Did you bring your resume?" Mycroft was standing in front of one of the windows, watching the twilight descend upon the city.

"Er..." Lestrade sent the other a confused look.  Mycroft turned when Lestrade didn't answer him right away.

"Too bad," Mycroft took the last drink of his scotch and contemplated the ice cubes in his glass.  "Was there something on your mind, Mr. Lestrade?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about that position at Scotland Yard..."

"It's a posh position and an opportunity you would regret if you passed it up.  I've told you that I want to see you there."  Mycroft walked over to a side table and refreshed his drink. He turned to Lestrade and offered him a drink.  Lestrade declined.

"I just don't feel this is the right time for me to be there."  Lestrade watched as Mycrofts eyebrow went up in surprise, and went on.  "I want to work my way in.  Not get bought.  I'll collaborate with them on this case, but I want to get into the Yard on my terms. Not someone else's."

Mycroft only blinked at the officer.  No one ever challenged Mycroft Holmes. This officer was going to be tough, and Mycroft enjoyed a challenge.  He played with the rim of his glass.

"I see."

Lestrade cocked his head and furrowed his brow at the other man.

"Alright, I will inform my sources at Scotland Yard of what is going to happen.  In the meantime, I want to see your paper-work.  I would like them to see your credentials.   Also, as soon as he is out of the hospital, I am going to set up a rehab program for Sherlock.  I would like you to be a part of it, if you don't mind."

"Why me?"

"Because you..." Mycroft pursed his lips.  He wasn't used to being challenged and he had to resist the urge to say the first thing that came out of his mouth. This situation, however, caught him off guard; he didn't have to edit himself.

"Because you reached out to him.  You helped him in that alley.  I believe you can help him kick his habit."  Mycroft took a drink.

"I've never dealt with addicts, outside the fact I'm either arresting them, or helping their family  or friends arrest them."

"You won't have to deal with the addiction directly.  I'm hoping you can keep him busy with this case.  Keep his mind active, puzzling over clues and evidence."

Greg worried his bottom lip.  "Civilians aren't supposed to handle the evidence."

Mycroft cocked an eyebrow. "We'll make sure that he fits in at Scotland Yard.  Make sure that everyone likes him, or at least puts up with him."

Greg sighed.   "I guess I can do that."

"Good," Mycroft took another drink as he walked over to the sideboard to the officers left.  He picked up a manilla envelope ans handed it to Greg.  "The details of this new case are all in here.  The Yard is stumped and looking for fresh eyes to look at the case and all of the evidence."

He flipped through the file.  It was fairly thick and ridiculously detailed.  "It looks like they've covered everything."

"That's why they need a fresh perspective." Mycroft held up his glass to the other man. "Are you sure you won't have a drink?"

Greg pursed his lips.  He knew he was already in good favor with this man.  But he had no idea who he was, or what he did. He would have to call his wife, who was already stressed about the current case and Greg's well-being.

"I've already had my men call your wife. She wasn't happy, but she was understanding. She doesn't seem very keen about your profession Greg. Do you want me to keep an eye on her?"

"What? No. Thank you." Greg slammed the folder down on the end table closest to him.  "I don't appreciate your presumptuous nature."

"That's too bad. You should keep a close eye on her."  

Greg was almost out of the room when he stopped and turned and narrowed his eyes at the other man.

"What do you know?"

"I know everything.  It is my business to know.  I am a major player in the British Government after all."  Mycroft took a drink.

"Is that a threat?" Greg said as he crossed his arms.

"No. Drink?" Mycroft gave the man a small smile as he poured the second drink.  Then he walked back to the window, watching the evening traffic wind it's way through London. "It'll be there when you are ready."

Greg swore under his breath.  It was the opportunity of a lifetime.  He just wasn't comfortable knowing he was being watched twenty-four-seven.  Closing his eyes and licking his lips, he turned his head up to the ceiling. He wasn't a strongly religious man, but he was hoping for a sign to push him in the right direction.

As if on cue, the bodyguard burst through the door.  

"Sir! Sherlock has relapsed!"