Chapter Text
Lestrade lay on the ground with his heart beating in his ears, adrenalin pumping through his body and fear flowing through his veins. The culprit stood above him aiming a gun at Lestrade’s head and the last thing Lestrade did was swallow heavily before whispering to himself, as though talking to Mycroft.
“Sorry,”
The quiet street was filled with the echoing sound of the gunshot before emergency vehicles filled the streets and on the garden of one of the houses lay Lestrade’s body. A final tear falling from his eyes, eyes glazed over and looking at the darkening storm clouds above.
“Take his body to the morgue. He doesn’t deserve to be a sideshow,” Donavon said quietly to the paramedics as they headed over to Lestrade’s form. Slowly, rain began falling as the paramedics put Lestrade into a body bag and onto the stretcher, the rain getting heavier each moment that passed until the stretcher was safely inside the ambulance and being taken to St Bart’s hospital.
“Here is his phone,” one of the policemen said as they handed Donavon Lestrade’s phone, a text message on the screen.
No, thank you. I will see you at 7 pm. I love you. – M
Sally sighed as she pulled out her phone and called the one number she hoped she would never call. When the message bank came through, Sally swallowed her pride.
“Sherlock,” She began but her voice cracked. She took a deep breath and spoke the last two words before hanging up. “Lestrade’s dead,”
“Keep it in evidence,” Sally said feeling tears beginning to threaten to spill.
At St Bart’s, Molly walked over to the paramedics with a smile on her face until they opened the zip on the body bag. Molly looked at Lestrade with no emotion other than sorrow and pain.
“Thanks, guys,” Molly said softly as she signed the paperwork saying that she was the one doing the autopsy but the tears streaming down her face kept landing on the paperwork. After the paramedics left, Molly fell to the floor and began sobbing on the floor while she tried to get her phone out of her pocket.
She tried calling Sherlock but didn’t get any answer the three times she tried so she called John. On the third ring, John’s chirpy voice filled the speaker.
“Molly. How are you?” Molly felt regret at having to bring down his day but Sherlock needed to know so that someone could tell Mycroft.
“Where’s Sherlock?” Molly asked, her voice breaking every word.
“Molly? Are you okay? Sherlock’s here so I’ll put you on speaker,” John said comfortingly but the view of Lestrade on the gurney in front of her meant Molly couldn’t be comforted.
“Alright, you’re on speaker,” John said encouragingly. Molly took a deep breath and sniffled before talking.
“Lestrade’s dead,” Was all Molly could say before she began sobbing again, her phone dropping to the floor as she cried.
In Baker Street, Sherlock and John looked at the phone in John’s hand. Neither knowing what to do before Sherlock reached for his phone dialling his brother’s number and ignoring the numerous missed calls.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, brother mine?” Mycroft sassed and Sherlock took a deep breath.
“Mycroft,” the simple way that Sherlock said his brother’s name with no malice made the smug smile on Mycroft’s face drop.
“What’s happened, Sherlock?” Sherlock looked out the rain covered window to the little flat that he lived in before sighing.
“I’m going to St Bart’s but Molly needs you to ID a dead body that’s just come in,” Sherlock said calmly, his voice wavering when he said dead body.
“And why is that, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked as he sat back down on his chair.
“Lestrade's dead,” Sherlock said softly, able to hear Mycroft’s breath hitch.
“I’ll be there,” Mycroft agreed before hanging up the phone. Mycroft looked at the picture of Greg smiling on his desk before he got up and headed out of his office, waving Anthea off as he headed for the carpark below the building.