The Things They Never Said

Chapter 9: The Arrest

Mycroft Holmes leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He muted the live feed he had been watching that was coming from 221B and picked up the phone. Why was it that whenever something bad was about to occur his little brother was always right in the middle of it? He dialed the number for Scotland Yard.

"Hello Lestrade." Mycroft said into the speaker.

"Mycroft." Lestrade said in acknowledgement.

"Please send a marginally large police force over to 221B as quickly as possible."

"For what? Has something happened? Did they have another break in?" Lestrade said in exasperation.

"No, nothing like that." Mycroft replied as he rubbed his face. "I'm sending you over to make an arrest."

"What? You want me to arrest John? Because he's the only there at the moment. Mrs. Hudson went out a bit ago, I saw her at the store." Lestrade said. "Are you asking me to arrest her?"

"No, I'm not sending you over there to arrest John or Mrs. Hudson. I'm sending you to arrest Sherlock."

Mycroft heard Lestrade take a sharp intake of breath. "But," Lestrade began cautiously, "Mycroft, Sherlock is dead. He jumped off the roof remember?"

"Yes I remember it perfectly. But-"

"And" Lestrade interrupted "I inspected the body. It was definitely him, DNA matched up and everything."

"Yes but-" Mycroft started.

"And John even watched him jump! He said Sherlock left a note and everything." Lestrade interjected again. "Well, he left a phone call anyway." He corrected. "Still I don't see-"

"WELL MAYBE YOU WOULD SEE IF YOU WOULD JUST LET ME FINISH!" Mycroft yelled as he finally lost his temper. Lestrade stopped in mid-sentence and his mouth hung open in shock. He had never heard Mycroft Holmes lose his temper like that. Whatever it was that Sherlock did must have been really bad.

Mycroft leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk while slowly rubbing his temple; he could feel a headache coming on. "Thank you. Now first things first, Sherlock is not dead. He faked his own death to save John's, Mrs. Hudson's, and your lives."

Mycroft paused for a second, and gathered his thoughts. "Secondly, Sherlock is about to commit a crime and it needs to be stopped before it can occur. And lastly, when you go over to arrest him don't listen to anything he has to say about why he is trying to commit this crime. He will just try to manipulate you."

That last request seemed odd to Lestrade but, not wanting to provoke Mycroft further, he made no comment on it.

"I'll go over there right now." Is all he said instead.

"Good, thank you. And once you have him in custody, please bring him over here. I have some questions for my little brother." Mycroft said irritably.

"Sure. Can I ask what crime it is that Sherlock's trying to commit?" Lestrade asked, his curiosity roused.

"A murder." Mycroft replied softly and he hung up.

Sherlock put his head in his hands as he finally tore his gaze away from the computer screen. Of all the people he had to kill in order to save John why did it have to be Mycroft? Of course, he wasn't particularly fond of his obnoxious older brother, but family is family. His mind whizzed through a thousand different ways he could try to trick John's captors into believing that he had killed Mycroft, but none of his ideas seemed plausible. When suddenly his train of thought was interrupted by a loud crash coming from the first floor, it had sounded like someone had just kicked the door down. Sherlock snatched the pistol that was lying on the table, cocked it, and aimed it at the doorway, prepared for anything.

Or so he thought. He was certainly not prepared for twenty policemen to come charging into his flat with Detective Inspector Lestrade following in their wake.

Sherlock lowered his weapon some in surprise and relief. "The door was open; there was no need to break in." Sherlock stated calmly. "What seems to be the problem Inspector?"

Lestrade just gaped at Sherlock for a moment, hardly believing what he was seeing. He had honestly expected to burst into the flat to find John moping in his chair or Mrs. Hudson cleaning up. He hadn't really believed Mycroft when he had said that Sherlock was back. Lestrade shook his head in an attempt to clear it; he would never understand either of the Holmes brothers.

"Cuff him!" Lestrade shouted at the waiting policemen, finally regaining some of his composure.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him in surprise and lifted his weapon.

"Don't even try." Sherlock said casually as he aimed the weapon directly at Lestrade's heart. When the policemen continued to advance on him, although not as quickly as before, Sherlock rolled his eyes, flustered. "One more step and I will pull this trigger Lestrade. Just let me explain, there is no need for this to get messy."

Lestrade looked suspiciously at Sherlock. Mycroft had warned him not to listen to anything that he had to say and that he would only try to manipulate him. The other policemen stopped their advance on Sherlock and glanced over at Lestrade, waiting for instruction. He gave Sherlock one more suspicious glance and signaled to the other officers to stay where they were.

"Alright fine," Lestrade finally complied, his curiosity finally getting the best of him. "I'll let you explain, just put down the gun."

"With pleasure," Sherlock began as he lowered his weapon. "But would you mind getting these other idiots out of my flat before we talk?"

"Yes, alright fine." The inspector said in exasperation as he waved the other officers out of the cramped flat. This was definitely the same irritating and obnoxious Sherlock he remembered.

Only when the door swung shut behind the last of the extra policemen did Sherlock finally address the Detective Inspector. "Lestrade I need your help."

Lestrade blinked in surprise, this wasn't at all what he had expected.

"Please," Sherlock practically begged when Lestrade didn't respond immediately. "Please I need your help."

"Alright, calm down Sherlock." Lestrade said wearily, he had never seen Sherlock look so desperate and frightened and it put him on edge. "What's gotten into you?"

"It's John, he's been kidnapped and is being held hostage and in order for me to save him I would have to kill Mycroft and I would really rather not so can you help me find a way to get him back because he will die if you don't." Sherlock said in a rush. He paused to catch his breath and suddenly seemed to realize something. "Wait a minute," he said with suspicion, "what did you come over here to arrest me for? I haven't done anything wrong."

When Lestrade refused to answer him Sherlock's eyes widened as he realized who it was that must have sent him.

"Mycroft sent you here to arrest me didn't he?" Sherlock asked, anger starting to creep into his voice. "I bet he was spying on me when I got the call. So he sent you to arrest me for a murder that I haven't even committed!" Sherlock finally lost it, "He sent you and those other damn police officers to arrest me to try to prevent me from attacking him! He knew John was in danger but he still sent you! And he is probably spying on us right now!" He turned in a circle looking for a camera.

Sherlock rounded on Lestrade, "Well?! Am I wrong?!" He screamed at him.

Lestrade took a step back in fear; he had never seen Sherlock this upset before. "No, you're right. Mycroft did send me here to arrest you for a murder that he said you were about to commit."

"And I bet he ordered you to take me to him once you had successfully restrained me?!" Sherlock spat at the shocked and slightly frightened inspector.

"Y-yes."

"Good! Then take me to him!" Sherlock yelled, pushing him out of the way and stomping out the door in rage. "I need to have a nice long chat with my dear brother."