Impossibility Streak - for bestofabadlot
"Get to Baker Street."
Mycroft hadn't bothered to say anything more, nor did he wait for the man on the other end of the line to acknowledge him. Very few things sent Greg Lestrade to Baker Street on his night off. Even Mycroft knew that his little brother's nanny needed time to himself and his failng marriage here and there. Generally, John Watson was there to catch Sherlock's moods before they turned potentially fatal. That simply wasn't the case tonight as the good doctor had gone out. Mycroft could do a lot of things, but not pull the surgeon from his operating room in the middle of surgery.
And so, there was just one person left to call. His intelligence on Lestrade told him that the man hadn't hit the bottle too hard just yet. Better than nothing. Sherlock would not, could not listen to Mycroft himself during these strops.
It had to be someone he trusted, there for him. Someone that could give in far more than Mycroft could publically ever do.
When Lestrade arrived, he'd find Mrs. Hudson out for the evening. Not unusual. He had a key so letting himself in wasn't a problem. The complete lack of noise upstairs, however, might very well have been. According to John, Sherlock had been composing for weeks now. All hours of the day and night.
The silence was always bad news.
Mycroft hadn't bothered to say anything more, nor did he wait for the man on the other end of the line to acknowledge him. Very few things sent Greg Lestrade to Baker Street on his night off. Even Mycroft knew that his little brother's nanny needed time to himself and his failng marriage here and there. Generally, John Watson was there to catch Sherlock's moods before they turned potentially fatal. That simply wasn't the case tonight as the good doctor had gone out. Mycroft could do a lot of things, but not pull the surgeon from his operating room in the middle of surgery.
And so, there was just one person left to call. His intelligence on Lestrade told him that the man hadn't hit the bottle too hard just yet. Better than nothing. Sherlock would not, could not listen to Mycroft himself during these strops.
It had to be someone he trusted, there for him. Someone that could give in far more than Mycroft could publically ever do.
When Lestrade arrived, he'd find Mrs. Hudson out for the evening. Not unusual. He had a key so letting himself in wasn't a problem. The complete lack of noise upstairs, however, might very well have been. According to John, Sherlock had been composing for weeks now. All hours of the day and night.
The silence was always bad news.