Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13656765.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sherlock_Holmes/John_Watson
  Character:
      Sherlock_Holmes, Greg_Lestrade
  Additional Tags:
      Non-Consensual_Spanking, Anal_Fingering, Underage_Sex, PTSD_Sherlock,
      Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Recovery, Gaslighting, Underage
      Rape/Non-con, Self-Hatred, Self-Doubt, Past_Sexual_Abuse, Coping
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-12 Updated: 2018-02-26 Chapters: 7/? Words: 11478
****** Wind and Mystery ******
by thebadwolf
Summary
     When Sherlock Holmes was a teenager Greg Lestrade sexual assaulted
     him. Lestrade regretted it right away and the two pretended it never
     happened. When evidence of the assault is turned into the police they
     both have to face the outcome.
     Lestrade has to pay the price for his crime and Sherlock has to face
     how badly the event damaged him. Of course, he has John to help him
     recover. (slow developing romance)
***** Chapter 1 *****
Greg Lestrade was a good man. At least he thought he was and he tried to be.
There were things in his life that caused him stress. Sherlock Holmes was his
Achilles’ heel. That man had caused him so much stress and frustration over the
years. Of course, he had been his savior in a lot of ways. He owed him so much.
They had solved so many cases together and saved many lives.
Greg had only made one serious mistake in his life and it haunted him every
day.
He hoped he would wake up one day without thinking about it but maybe he didn’t
deserve that. Maybe he deserved to be haunted by his guilt.
It usually didn’t eat at his brain so much but that day it was consuming his
every thought.
After a rather long day at the Yard, he returned to his empty and quiet
apartment. He picked up the post before flopping down on the couch. He flicked
his fingers over each item. A bill, doctor’s appointment reminder, and a
package.
Greg set the other things aside and looked at the package. It was a simple
thick yellow envelope with no return address on it. He looked it over before
carefully opening it. His worries about something dangerous being inside were
dismissed when he saw the edge of a VHS tape. He removed the tape fully from
the package before looking it over.
It was a simple black tape with no labeling of any kind of in it. Greg sighed
putting the tape in his VCR. Despite the move forward in technology he still
held onto the VHS player. A lot of evidence still came in on tapes and it was a
good idea to have one of the players.
He sat back on the couch and stared at the telly.
A small office came into view. An office that Lestrade recognized. Panic
started to grip him. This couldn’t be what he thought it was.
A younger Lestrade walked into the room dragging a handcuffed teenage Sherlock
behind him.
“Let me go!” Sherlock cried as Lestrade slammed the door behind them.
“Not until I know who you are and what you were doing there,” Lestrade said
shoving Sherlock into an empty seat. “How did you know all that stuff about
me?”
“I told you,” Sherlock snapped trying to get comfortable with his hands
handcuffed behind his back. “I can read you like a book. People have no idea
what they give away by just existing.”
“I must admit you were right …Sherlock was it?” Lestrade leaning against the
desk in the room. “Can you do that with anyone and anything?”
“Mostly,” Sherlock said. “I’m good at what I do.”
“You might be, but I can’t have you at crime scenes,” Greg said shaking his
head. “Go to school and become a cop. We could use a man like you.”
“No thank you,” Sherlock said a snort. “I don’t want to get paid or anything
for it I just want to solve the crimes.”
“Why?” Greg asked surprised by the answer.
“It helps keep me busy,” was Sherlock’s only answer.
“I’m sorry,” Lestrade said. “That’s the rules. I can’t have a kid running
around crime scenes. I’ll uncuff you and send you on your way but if I see you
around another murder scene I’ll book you for suspicious activity.”
Lestrade retrieved the key from his pocket and reached to unlock the cuff but
stopped before he put the key in. This kid seemed desperate to help solves
crimes. Lestrade didn’t really understand why but perhaps he could use that. He
put the key in his pocket and backed up.
“Maybe we can work something out,” Lestrade said. “You want something from me.
Maybe there is something you can give me.”
“Like what?” Sherlock asked giving the officer a confused look.
Clearly, this boy had no idea what he was talking about.
“I have a wife, but we have issues,” Greg said. “I’ll let you have access to
have any crime scene you want but you have to be willing to do whatever sexual
acts I want with me whenever I say.”
Sherlock didn’t seem to like that idea. He shook his head and looked away from
the cop.
“You sure?” he asked. “This is the only chance you’re going to get.”
The teenager suddenly closed his eyes and let his head hang. Even though he
hadn’t said anything Lestrade knew the answer. After a moment that messy head
of curls went up and down.
“Good,” Lestrade said grabbing the boy by the shoulder. “That’s start with a
good hard spanking. That’s what bad boys get when they go places they aren’t
supposed to.”
Lestrade sat down in the chair and flipped Sherlock over his lap.
Lestrade grabbed the remote and pushed the power button. The TV and VCR turned
off. The detective jumped to feet and ripped the tape out of the player. He
couldn’t believe the tape existed. Who had it all those years and why were they
sending it to him now? Why wait?
He couldn’t watch it anymore and he wasn’t going to let it get seen by anyone
else.
Greg threw the tape to the floor and started to stomp on it. Memories of that
night flooded his head as bits of plastic flew across the carpet.
Young Sherlock over his lap handcuffed. He’d removed his belt and beat the
youth until he was a shaking sobbing mess.
That was bad enough but then he had to it further.
Sherlock’s trousers and pants around his ankles. Lestrade wetted one of his
fingers in his mouth. A single finger pushing its way inside the underage boy.
Then it stopped. He realized the horrible thing he was doing and had released
the boy. He apologized repeatedly. He told him he would never do anything to
him like that again and he understood if he was going to report it. To his
surprise, Sherlock didn’t report it and never brought it up.  They both
pretended it never happened.
Lestrade gathered the remains of the tape and dumped them in the trash. He was
shaking by the time he sat down again. All he could do was hope whoever sent
the tape was done and he wouldn’t hear from them again.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Wow! I didn’t expect so much love right away. I’m glad so many people like
this. I wasn’t sure it would get much love. When I’m writing my stories, I
don’t plan them all the way out. I have a general idea of where I’m going with
it but that’s about it. I’m always open to suggestions and ideas.
++
The next few days were hell for Lestrade. Every day he returned home to find a
new tape. The first time he watched the first few seconds to make sure it was
the same thing. After that, he stopped watching them. He smashed them as soon
as they arrived.
By the fourth day, he was losing his mind. What was he supposed to do? What did
they want from him?
He decided to call in sick. He couldn’t look at Sherlock again.  If he did he
was going to start screaming the guilt of his crime. Was that what this person
wanted?
Lestrade couldn’t do that. If he did his whole life was over. He had committed
a sexual crime against a minor. If he was found guilty of that he was a sex
offender. He would lose his job and risk going to prison. Didn’t he deserve
that punishment? No. He didn’t. He had gotten out of control with Sherlock. He
had hurt the boy, but it wasn’t like he had raped him. He would never do
something like that.
He sighed before lying down in bed with a beer. He didn’t want to think about
it. He just wanted to drink and sleep.
==
Megan Durhum sighed as she started digging through her mail. She’d had a very
interesting morning. Sherlock had shown up early that morning with John in tow.
He wasn’t very happy when he found out Lestrade wasn’t there. Greg was usually
the one who made sure Sherlock had a case to work on. Megan tried to find him
something, but nothing suited his needs. She’d gotten a bit grumpy with him at
that point.
Sherlock then proceeded to tell everyone she was pregnant and that the hormones
were making her grumpy. It was nothing to be ashamed of, but she wasn’t ready
to tell everyone yet. Everyone knew she had been trying for a long time and she
was worried people would make a big deal out of it.
As she flipped through the mail a yellow envelope caught her eye. She flipped
it over looking at it. There was no return address. That usually meant someone
wanted to turn in evidence without revealing who they were.
Megan opened the envelope and out fell a VHS tape and a folded piece of paper.
She picked up the paper and flipped it open.
This tape is evidence of a crime that happened years ago. I found it recently
and thought it was only right to turn it in. I hope the man in the video is
brought to justice.
Megan picked up the tape and slipped into the VCR player that sat next to the
small tv in her office. After only watching it a few minutes she turned took
the tape out of the player. She had to show this to someone who dealt with
sexual assault. They had a very serious problem to deal with.
--
Sherlock growled in frustration as he stomped around the flat. He bored and
alone. The two things together could be very a dangerous combo. John had to go
to work and Molly had taken Rosie for the night.
His heart jumped a little when he heard someone at the front door. A client
judging by the unsure and nervous knock. Perhaps it would be something that
would keep him busy a few minutes. He raced down to the front door and opened
it.
“Hello,” a short man at the door said. “I’m Alan Graham. I’m with the-“
“Police of course,” Sherlock said. “Your shoes give you away. You’re also
carrying a bag with Scotland Yard written on it. I can only see part of the
words but it’s easy to fill in the rest. What can I do for you?”
“I needed to speak to you,” Alan said trying not to be put off by Sherlock.
“I’m with the rape and sexual assault department.”
The fact the man was from that department didn’t surprise Sherlock. His nervous
demeanor gave that away, but he was surprised someone from that department was
knocking on his door. It had never happened before.
“You handle a very sensitive subject,” Sherlock said. “It makes you a bit
jumpy. What do you want with me?”
“Some evidence has become known that indicates you were the victim of a crime,”
Alan explained. “I just needed to go over it with you.”
He was a victim of a crime and a sex crime at that? That was the first that
Sherlock had heard of it.
“Come upstairs,” Sherlock nodding to the stairs. “We’ll discuss this.”
Alan closed the door behind him before he followed up the stairs.
Sherlock sat down in his chair and waved for Alan to sit down. The officer sat
down in John’s chair and sat his bag down on the floor.  
“A tape was sent into Scotland Yard,” Alan explained. “It seems to contain
images of you and a police officer engaged in some questionable acts.”
That jogged Sherlock’s memory. A locked away memory that he thought was dead
and buried. The day he met Lestrade. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.
“A tape?” Sherlock said suddenly understanding what the officer was saying.
“Yes,” Alan said removing a folder from the bag. “I have a few screenshots
here. Nothing explicit of course. I just need to verify that’s you in the
pictures.”
He held the folder out to Sherlock. He looked at the yellow folder with
disgust. He didn’t want to see pictures from that day. He just wanted to keep
pretending it never happened.
“I can understand if you don’t want to see them,” Alan said pulling the folder
back towards him.
“Don’t be stupid,” Sherlock yanking the folder out of his hands.
Sherlock opened the folder and looked down at the sheets of paper inside. There
were two pictures of him as a teenager and younger Lestrade. Sherlock frowned
looking at the picture. He remembered that day all too well.
He was sixteen at the time. It was his first year at Uni and he was getting an
early start in a chemistry program. Lestrade had caught him snooping around a
crime scene. Sherlock thought he was getting arrested when he was pulled into
that teacher’s office.
Then Lestrade made him a deal he couldn’t turn down.
Of course, Sherlock regretted it the second Lestrade started hitting him with
the belt. Sherlock had been on the receiving end of a few spankings when he was
young but nothing like the one that was laid on him that day. Lestrade had hit
him without mercy and it was all the boy could do to stop from crying out. By
the end of it, he was sobbing and shaky like a leaf.
Then the man began to lower his jeans…
“Mr. Holmes,” Alan said pulling Sherlock out of his thoughts.
“It’s me,” Sherlock said handing the folder back. “And I’m sure you know who
the officer is.”
“We do,” Alan said. “I wanted to speak to you about this in person right away.
I wanted you to know what was going on.”
“You’re going to arrest him,” Sherlock said matter of factly.
“Of course,” Alan said putting the folder away. “What he did was a crime and
very serious one for a police officer.”
Sherlock shook his head. This whole thing was ridiculous. It was years ago.
What was the point in punishing him for it now? They had managed to put it
behind them and become friends. Sherlock doubted Lestrade even remembered it.
He hadn’t until Alan had brought it up.
“I consented,” Sherlock said. “I remember agreeing.”
“Yes, you did,” Alan said nodding. “But according to the law at the time you
couldn’t consent to a sexual act with a man until you were eighteen. At the
very least Lestrade was abusing his power to mess around with a minor.”
“This is insane,” the consulting detective snapped. “I have connections. This
will never see a court of law.”
“I have permission to arrest him,” Alan explained. “The arrest warrant is
ready. I know he’s your friend. He was my friend too. I hate to see this
happen, but I will not cover up for a bad cop.”
“Go then,” Sherlock said waving him off. “I know you think you’re doing the
right thing, but you aren’t. He’s a good man. You lock him up and you’re losing
a good cop.”
“I’m sorry,” he said standing up. “I know this has to be hard for you.”
Sherlock wasn’t interested in talking to the man anymore. He had heard enough.
Alan seemed to get the drift and left the room without another word.
He curled up in his seat and put his head on his knees. What was he doing to
do? Even if he got the case thrown out people would still remember it. The
people who already knew would never look at him or Lestrade the same again. No
matter what he did things were never going to be the same.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Greg gave a grunt as he was yanked out of his sleep. He just wanted to sleep
forever and forget everything that was happening. If he received another one of
those tapes in the post, he was going to lose his mind.
It took him a minute to realize what had woken him up. Someone was knocking
rather loudly on his front door. A glance at his alarm clock told him it was
nearly one in the morning. God, he hoped it wasn’t Sherlock looking for
something to do. He was starting to feel a little better, but he wasn’t ready
to face the man.
“I’m coming!” he shouted climbing out of bed.
The detective grumbled to himself as he headed for the front door. The knocking
didn’t stop. It had to be Sherlock. He was the only person Greg knew that
knocked that way. He let out a frustrated sigh as he opened the door.
To his surprise, it wasn’t Sherlock. It was fellow officers, Alan and Anderson.
They were both looking at him with angry and disgusted looks.
“Hello,” Greg said confused by their presences. “What are you doing here?”
“We know about what you did,” Anderson said. “I can’t believe you would do such
a thing. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Anderson,” Alan said. “Take it easy. We’re going to handle this.”
Panic gripped Greg as the two men talked. What were they talking about? There
was no way they could know about the tape unless... Oh no. Had the same person
who sent it to him sent it to Scotland Yard? It made sense that they might do
that.
“You know why we’re here don’t you?” Alan questioned.
“I’m not sure,” Greg said carefully.
There was no reason to admit to something they didn’t know about yet.
“We received a tape in the mail,” Alan explained. “It shows you engaging in…”
“Stop sugar coating it,” Anderson said. “He assaulted Sherlock.”
“Perhaps you should get your shoes and coat on,” Alan said ignoring Anderson’s
outburst. “I’d rather us do this the easy way.”
Greg couldn’t believe this was happening. He knew there was no statute of
limitations on sexual crimes, but he never expected it to come up. After all,
Sherlock seemed to move on fairly well. It was almost as if it never happened.
Sometimes Greg did think about it.
Whenever Sherlock acted naïve or innocent he remembered the teenager he’d taken
advantage of and guilt would fill him. Did Sherlock ever think about it?
As he stood in his sitting room he thought of his options. He could run the
other way and escape through his bedroom window. But where would he go?
Mycroft? He wasn’t going to help in this case. His only reasonable option was
to go quietly. Maybe he could avoid prison time if he fully cooperated.
“Give me a minute,” Greg said. “Come on in. I don’t really want the neighbors
hearing this.”
Greg walked away from the door and headed to the bedroom.
Anderson and Alan walked into the room closing the front door behind him. 
“Go watch him,” Alan said. “I get the feeling he’s thinking about running.”
“No problem,” Anderson said before following after Lestrade.
++
Sherlock didn’t know what to think as the officer undid the handcuffs. What had
just happened? He was still shaking from the shock of it.
“I’m so sorry,” Lestrade said helping Sherlock re-dress. “I have no idea what I
was thinking. I just-“
“It’s all right,” the teenager said even though he knew it wasn’t.
“No,” the older man said shaking his head. “Do you want to talk to someone? I’d
understand. I was out of line there.”
What was he saying? Did he WANT him to turn him in? Sherlock couldn’t believe
that. No one wanted to be arrested for assaulting a minor. Would Lestrade admit
to it if Sherlock filed a report or would the paperwork just go missing?
“We had an agreement,” Sherlock said trying to change the subject. “I can have
access to crime scenes, right?”
“Of course,” Lestrade said nodding. “You never have to do that again. I swear
it to it.”
“I have to go,” he said already headed for to the door. “I have class.”
That was a lie. Sherlock just wanted to get far away from him as fast as
possible.
“Alright,” Lestrade said. “Give me a call at Scotland Yard when you get a
chance. Ask for Greg Lestrade.”
Sherlock nodded. He knew that despite everything he would be calling him. The
teenager opened the door and walked out of the room without another word. He
walked down the hall and picked up his disregarded backpack. He could still
several police officers standing down the hall. They didn’t pay him any
attention as he picked up his belongings.
He walked out of the school and onto the grounds. He needed a smoke. Sherlock
crossed across the courtyard to a small water fountain. No one ever seemed to
go over there. He wouldn’t be disturbed. It was the perfect place to spend a
little time alone.
The teenager’s hands were trembling as he removed his cigarettes and lighter
from his bag. He checked over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was
watching him before lighting one up. As the smoke filled his lungs he felt his
body begin to calm.  Clearer thoughts filled his mind.
He couldn’t tell anyone. The police wouldn’t believe him without Lestrade
confessing to it and Sherlock couldn’t stand to be called a liar about
something that he knew happened. His parents would believe him. Yet, he didn’t
want them to find out. What if they blamed the school? They might yank him out
of the school. Then, his future would be messed up.
Sherlock leaned over to look at the water in the fountain. He could see his
reflection in the crystal-clear water. His face was red, and his eyes were
puffy from crying. He quickly looked away from the water. He didn’t want to see
his face.
It was bad enough he couldn’t escape the moist feeling inside of him. He could
still feelwhereLestrade had pushed a wet finger inside of him. It hadn’t hurt
but it felt uncomfortable and foreign prodding his insides.
Sherlock felt a shiver go up to his back as realization was started to sink in.
He’d had his first sexual experience. Granted it wasn’t much of one but it was
still his first. He’d been handcuffed and molested by a stranger.
No. It didn’t count. He wouldn’t allow it to count.
++
Sherlock awoke with a start. Sweet was dripping down his face despite the
coolness of his bedroom. His bedroom. He quickly reached over and flicked his
lamp on. His room was instantly illuminated.
Yes. He was in his bedroom. He was safe. For a second, he believed he was back
there, in that courtyard trying to figure out what he was going to do.
Knocking on his bedroom door yanked him out of his thoughts.
“What is it?” Sherlock asked.
“Are you, all right?” John questioned opening the door a crack.
“Yes,” he answered surprised by the question. “Why?”
 “You were yelling,” John explained when he saw the questioning look on
Sherlock’s face. “I was in the bathroom and I heard it.”
John. Sherlock had almost forgotten that his current situation affected him.
John and Lestrade were friends. What would John think when he found out
Lestrade was going to prison because of him? No doubt Lestrade had already been
arrested. It didn’t sound like Alan was going to waste any time. John would
find out about it in the morning.
He couldn’t explain it to him. John was his best friend, but he couldn’t do it.
“Nightmare,” Sherlock explained. “That’s all.”
That surprised John. It wasn’t like Sherlock to have nightmares. That meant
something very serious was bothering him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” his friend asked opening the door fully.
Yes! He did want to talk about it. Yet, he found himself unable to speak. He
opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it and shook his head.
 “I just want to go to sleep,” Sherlock explained.
He knew John was going to be angry with him when he found out his friend was
going to prison because of him. He certainly didn’t want to get into that fight
in the middle of the night. He’d been the one sticking his nose where it didn’t
belong. He consented to the act. Wasn’t that why he never reported it? Yes, he
was afraid he wouldn’t be believed, but deep down he knew it was his own doing.
“Alright,” John said. “You know where I am if you need me.”
Sherlock simply nodded before his friend left him alone with his thought. He
reached over and started to flick off his lamp. As his fingers ran off the
switch he changed his mind. Maybe being able to see his surroundings would help
him sleep.
The laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. He would deal
with John in the morning. He would deal with the world in the morning.
 
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 4 *****
Sherlock was at a loss for words. He planned to tell John what was going on as
soon as he woke up. He didn’t see any point in putting it off.  Yet, he found
himself unable to make words.
John took his time preparing breakfast for them both. That meant he was going
in later. No doubt he wanted to wait until Molly returned with Rosie. That gave
Sherlock plenty of time to explain why one of their best friends was going to
prison.
He had the perfect chance to do it. John seemed to be in a good mood. He was
humming to himself as he cooked a pan full of scrambled eggs and another with
bacon. He wasn’t in a rush to go to work. Rosie wasn’t there to be a
distraction. Everything was perfect. So why was he putting it off?
He didn’t want to face being judged by his best friend.
“Have some eggs,” John said pushing a small pile of scrambled eggs onto his
plate.
Sherlock stared at the pill of mushed up eggs with disgust. There was no way he
was eating that.  A few slices of bacon quickly joined the eggs. John gave him
a little smile before sitting down across from him. He picked up the morning
paper and started to read it.
He had to do it. He had made this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t been
sticking his nose where it didn’t belong it wouldn’t have happened. None of
this would be happening.
“Sherlock?” John asked looking up from the paper. “You all right? You’re awful
quiet this morning.”
 “I need to tell you something,” Sherlock explained.
“What is it?” John asked lowering the paper.
“I believe Lestrade was arrested last night,” he explained looking down at his
food. “Chances are he is going to prison for a number of years.”
“Greg?” he asked in shock. “What happened?”
How was he supposed to explain this? Just the big picture. That’s all John
needed to hear. He didn’t need to hear the nasty details.
“Many years ago, Lestrade and I had a sexual encounter,” he explained. “It was
just a one-time thing. Well, I must admit I was a bit underage at the time. I
thought it was in the past but recently evidence was turned into the police
that proves it happened. Someone came by yesterday to tell me he was going to
be arrested.”
“A bit underage?” John asked in a surprised voice. “How underage are we
talking?”
“I was sixteen at the time,” Sherlock explained.
“I’m a bit confused,” John admitted. “When you were a teenager you had a one-
night stand with Greg and that there was proof of it? Are you trying to tell
you have a sex tape?”
“I suppose you could say that,” the taller man said pushing his eggs around
with his fork.
John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When it came to sex Sherlock was
always very naive or at least he acted like he was. He wasn’t the kind of
person to have a sex tape floating around.
“Something isn’t adding up here,” the doctor said. “You aren’t the type of
person to do this. This doesn’t sound like you at all.”
“Well, it happened,” Sherlock said forcing down a fork full of eggs.
He knew if he was eating he wouldn’t have to talk. After a moment of silence,
he looked up to see John looking at him with a confused look. Clearly, he
wasn’t buying Sherlock’s story.
“What?” Sherlock asked with slight annoyance in his voice.
“What really happened?” John questioned.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You’re clearly not telling the truth,” the doctor said. “I haven’t lived with
you all this time to not know when you’re hiding something.”
What was he supposed to say? Sherlock had opened the door. John wasn’t going to
let up until he knew what had happened. At least he didn’t seem mad at him.
That was a good sign.
“He caught me snooping around a crime scene,” Sherlock said before eating
another fork full of eggs. “He promised to give me access to crime scenes in
exchange for sex. Seemed like a fair trade. It only happened once. He felt
guilty about it and never brought it up again.”
“Are you…” John started but he couldn’t finish his sentence.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Greg had used his power as a police
officer to get sex from a minor. Not just any minor. Sherlock. The thought made
him sick to his stomach.
“Did…did he…rape you?” John asked forcing the words out.
He prayed the answer was no.
“Of course not,” Sherlock snapped dropping his fork to the plate. “I told you I
consented to what happened.”
“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” John said suddenly feeling like he
was pressing his friend too hard. “But I feel like you should talk to someone
about this. You could always go to the Haven.”
“The rape center?” Sherlock asked in shock.
“Yes, the rape center. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I know enough to
know this was sexual assault. It doesn’t matter if you gave consent,” John
explained. “You were underage, and he was in a position of power.  It sounds
like you have mixed feelings about what happened. I mean…I mean you’ve already
changed your story once.  Having a consensual sexual experience with an older
man is very different than having your interest in crime being used as a tool
to extort sex.”
John wasn’t reacting how he had expected. He was angry all right, but it wasn’t
directed at Sherlock. He seemed very angry with Greg. Why? It happened years
ago, and he had consented to it. It was simply a legal issue because of his age
and the fact Greg was a police officer.
Sherlock felt so conflicted. He had consented to the encounter but afterword’s
he’d felt…dirty about the whole thing. But the fact of the matter was he had
agreed. He didn’t have a right to complain afterword. Did he?
“Is that what you were dreaming about last night?” John asked suddenly. “You
had a nightmare last night and it was the first time I’ve ever known you to
have a nightmare.”
“I just wanted to tell you he’d been arrested,” Sherlock said standing up.
“Now, you know. I would like it if you would refrain from asking me questions
about it.”
“Alright,” John said nodding. “I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I’m sure you are,” Sherlock said before heading off to this bedroom.
John watched in disbelief as his friend walked away. He couldn’t believe what
he was hearing. Greg always seemed like such a nice man. He always insisted on
doing everything by the book. He hated cops who abused their power. John would
have never thought that Greg was capable of such an act.
What if he had done it to other people?
John pushed the thought from his head. If he thought about that he’d be sick.
He pushed away his breakfast. He couldn’t eat. His mind was fixed on his friend
and what he was going through.  He was going to need his help even if he didn’t
know it yet.
++
Sherlock stayed in his bedroom all morning. He didn’t even come out when he
heard Molly arriving with Rosie. As much as he wanted to see her he didn’t want
to face John.
He was shocked by the way John had reacted. He wasn’t mad at him at all. In
fact, he seemed very worried about him. He even wanted him to talk to someone
at the rape clinic.
He tried not to think about it as he tried to read. He had a book open on his
kindle but couldn’t focus on the words. His mind kept drifting off. He needed
to figure out what he was going to do. He could go to Mycroft and ask him to
help make it disappear, but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t go begging to his
brother.
“Sherlock!” John shouted. “Someone is here to see you.”
Sherlock turned off his kindle and placed it on the bedside table. He got out
of bed and walked into the sitting room. He was half expecting Mycroft to be
there. To his horror, Alan was waiting for him. The man was wearing the same
bag from before and looked just as a nervous.
“Lock!” Rosie said seeing him for the first time that day.
“What do you want Alan?” Sherlock asked picking up his goddaughter.
“I wanted to tell you what was going on,” he said sitting down on the couch.
“Are you alright with discussing this in front of John?”
“I’m headed out,” John said quickly. “I’ll be back by five. Call me if anything
comes up Sherlock.”
The doctor quickly hurried out of the flat. No doubt he wanted to make sure
Sherlock had the privacy he thought he should have. Sherlock frowned as he sat
down in his chair. Little Rosie was talking away to him, but he couldn’t make
out a word.
“I’m sure you guessed it, but we arrested Lestrade last night,” Alan explained
opening a folder. “He met with a judge early this morning and admitted to most
of what he was accused of. He admitted to…physical assault, abuse of power,
engaging in sexual acts with a minor, and assault by penetration. He is asking
for leniency since the age of consent has changed since then. He claims you
understood what you were, didn’t regret it, and hadn’t suffered any mental or
physical harm because of it.”
“How long is he going away for?” Sherlock asked looking down at Rosie.
“If you can convince a judge you weren’t damaged in any way around three
years,” Alan explained. “But more than likely he’s looking at five.”
“How long does he have?” he questioned.
“He goes before the judge again in two months,” the officer said. “I know you
think he didn’t do anything wrong. Look…if you can convince the judge you
weren’t damaged maybe you can help him out.”
“How?” he asked at once.
“See a rape therapist,” Alan suggested. “If they don’t see any problems with
you they can suggest that the judge go easy.”
Rape therapist? It just sounded like a sneaky way to get him to a see a
therapist, but it might be the only choice he had.
“Fine,” Sherlock said with a snort.
“Now,” he said. “Some important legal things. He is out on bail right now. He
is not allowed anywhere near you. If he calls you or comes here please call the
police right away. You’re more than welcome to come to his court date in two
months. If you decide you want to testify against him at that court date you
will have that chance.”
That wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going assure his friend went away for
even longer. He watched in silence as Alan put the folder away.
“Alright,” Alan said standing up. “I guess I’ll leave you. Would you like my
card in case you want to speak to me?”
“Who did he call?” Sherlock questioned.
“Excuse me?” he asked looking at Sherlock with surprise.
“When he was arrested,” he explained. “Who did he call?”
“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that,” Alan said. “But…he had us call
your brother Mycroft. He picked it up but hung up on him.
Sherlock simply nodded before Alan walked out of the room.
Of course, he called Mycroft. Who else was he going to call? Most of his
friends were in the police force. They weren’t going to help him. Sherlock knew
some of the police officers that handled evidence were very straight and
wouldn’t allow evidence to be tampered with. Sherlock, John, and Mycroft were
the only other people he could call. 
Mycroft could have ignored his call, but he chose not to. He made the effort of
picking up the phone and then hanging it up. He was sending a message. He
wouldn’t help him.
 
 
***** Chapter 5 *****
I tried to do as much research as I could into British law when it came to sex
crimes. It seems they are pretty tight about that kind of thing over there. If
anyone sees something that stands out as wrong please tell me. 
-- 
 
Sherlock didn’t know what do when he was thrown over the older man’s lap. This
was happening too fast! The officer was holding him down with one hand. He was
still handcuffed so he couldn’t do much more than wiggle.
“Hold still,” Greg said undoing his belt. “You deserve what’s coming.”
The teenager yelped in surprise when felt the belt come in contact with his
backside. His parents were not huge believers in spankings. They only gave him
one when it was well deserved and were never too rough on him.
At first, the smacks didn’t hurt. His jeans were protecting him fairly well.
After a minute or so he started to feel it. A burning pain was starting to
consume him. He expected him to stop soon but he didn’t.
He just kept hitting him.
Tears started to fill his eyes and he began to wiggle hard. He wanted it to
stop! It hurt!
“Stop that,” Greg said pulling on his handcuffs hard. “We had an agreement.”
Sherlock knew if he started yelling someone would come running. His face burned
with embarrassment at the thought of someone seeing him like that. He would
never live it down. Calling out wasn’t an option.  All he could do was tough it
out.  After he had agreed to this. He had no right to complain.
Tears were flowing down his face by the time the beating stopped.
“Alright,” Greg said. “I think you’ve had enough.”
Sherlock heard the belt felt the floor and moved to stand up. Greg quickly
pushed him back down and held him there.
“Hold on,” he said. “One more quick thing and then you’re free to go.”
Sherlock didn’t want to do anything more! He wanted to go. He let out a gasp of
surprise when he felt his jeans being undone. There was no way he wanted to be
naked over that man’s lap. Greg held the handcuffs tightly with one hand while
he lowered Sherlock’s jeans and underpants.
His bottom felt a bit better without the jeans pressing against them. Sherlock
couldn’t imagine what he was doing. Was he simply checking for damage?
That idea was pushed out of his head when he felt something slipping between
his cheeks. It felt like a finger was getting dangerously close to a very
private part of him.
“Relax,” Greg said pushing his finger against his tight entrance. “I promise
this won’t hurt.”
Sherlock gasp loudly as he felt the finger start to slip inside of him. It
didn’t hurt as it was worked into him. It felt odd though. It was warm and
moist wiggling it’s way inside of him.
“Stop,” he found himself whispering.
It didn’t want this. This was too much.
“Just give me a minute,” Greg said pushing his finger in further.
Suddenly a wave of pleasure spread through his body. It was like fireworks went
off in his head. Why did something he didn't want feel good?
Sherlock tried to pull away but that only caused the cuffs to cut into his
wrist. 
“Stop,” he said a little louder that time.
He wanted to scream it, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t call for help.
This was his doing. His doing. His doing. He was to blame.
++++
“Sherlock!” John was shouting his name.
Sherlock’s was panting as he was yanked out of his sleep. His friend’s hands
were on his shoulder’s shaking him. He stopped instantly when he realized
Sherlock was awake.
Three nights in a row John had woken him up in the middle of the night.
Sherlock always awoke in a panic with sweat dripping down his face. The good
doctor always asked him if he was all right and didn’t leave until he was
calmed down.
John never pressed him to talk about it.
“Are you alright?” he questioned sitting down next to him.
“I’m fine,” Sherlock lied looking away from him.
“This is the third night in a row Sherlock,” John said softly. “You’re a mess.
You need help.”
As much as Sherlock didn’t want to admit it he knew his friend was right. He
couldn’t go on like this. He wasn’t sleeping at night and what little sleep he
did get was plagued by nightmares.
Unless he was on a case he took care of Rosie during the day. He was far too
tired to deal with the child. He had dropped her off with Mrs. Hudson during
the day for a few hours just to relax for a little bit. Normally caring for her
while having no sleep wasn’t a problem. Lately, though it seemed like trying to
do anything was too much. All he wanted to do was sleep or lie around and watch
trash telly.
He just wanted to forget but he knew he would never forget. He had managed to
hide the event in the deepest part of his mind palace but he knew he would
never be able to lock it up again.
“Maybe you’re right,” Sherlock admitted with a sigh. “I’ll set something up.”
“Alright,” John said. “You all right for me to leave?”
“Yes,” he said nodding.
John watched as Sherlock placed his head on the pillow. He reached up to the
turn the lamp off but quickly pulled his hand back. It had been on every night
when he came to wake Sherlock up from his nightmares. No doubt he wanted it on.
Rage boiled inside of him. Sherlock was falling into a state of extreme
depression and couldn’t sleep without a light on. John grabbed the extra baby
monitor off of Sherlock’s bedside table. He was going to take it down to Mrs.
Hudson. He needed her to keep an eye on the baby while he paid someone a little
visit.
==
It was nearly three in the morning by the time John reached Lestrade’s flat. He
was beyond tired, but he knew this had to be done. He needed answers. He
knocked on the door hard. Maybe if he knocked like a cop Lestrade would open
the door quickly.
As he expected the yanked open very quickly. As soon as Greg saw him he started
to shut the door. John quickly shoved his way in.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Greg said as John entered the sitting room. “I’m
staying away from him.”
“And I glad you are,” John said shutting the door. “If he saw you he’d lose his
mind right now.”
“What do you mean?” the older man asked sitting down on the couch.
“He’s a mess,” the doctor explained. “He doesn’t sleep at all. When he does
manage to he has to sleep with a light on only to wake up screaming.”
“What?” Lestrade asked looking up at him in shock. “I didn’t think that it
bothered him. He seemed to move on from it after it happened.”
“He didn’t tell me what happened, but I understand basically what happened,” he
said sitting across from Greg. “Why? Why would you to him?”
Greg had wondered that many times himself. He wasn’t really attracted to men
and he had certainly not gotten sexually excited from looking at a teenager. He
wasn’t a police officer anymore. They had fired him right after he stood in
front of the judge. Yet, he knew his training. Rape and sexual assault were
rarely about sex. It was about power.
Sherlock was a little smart ass from the second he met him. A little know it
all. His own wife was in charge all the time. She did things the way she wanted
to. He always wanted to know what it felt like to put someone on one’s lap and
spank them hard. If had tried to spank her she would have slapped him. He knew
it wasn’t her thing and he wouldn’t force it on her. Despite what a bitch she
could be he did love her once.
When he saw young Sherlock sitting in that chair he saw a chance. If he had
refused to take part Greg wouldn’t have pushed it on him. He would have let him
go but he thought it was worth the risk. The kid was desperate to be allowed
onto the crime scenes. Sherlock was not the object of his desire, but Greg
could use him to partake in his fantasies. He was simply a means to an end.
When he took Sherlock over his lap and began spanking him he was on a pure
power trip. He was able to let out some bottled-up frustration and indulge in a
fantasy.
Then what he did next was unforgivable. Pushing a finger inside of him. He just
wanted to see what it felt like in there. Sherlock was begging him to stop but
he didn’t. It was only on the third whimpered “stop” that Greg realized what he
was doing.
He was taking his frustration out on his poor kid. What was wrong with him?
When he saw those tear stained cheeks he knew he was a monster. As much as he
wanted to deny it he knew.
John sat there starting at Greg. He was still waiting for an answer. The older
man looked deep in thought. A good fifteen minutes passed before either one of
them spoke.
“I’m not a pedophile you know,” Greg explained. “I don’t molest teenagers on my
nights off. Sherlock ended up being in my way that day. I was frustrated, and
you know how annoying Sherlock can be. There isn’t any reason or excuse for
what I did. My wife didn’t understand some of my…fetishes. It wasn’t age or
gender that turned me that day. It was the idea that I could…”
“You saw a kid that has interest in what you were doing, and you exploited it,”
John finished getting angrier with every word. “You used him to fulfill some
fantasies you had like he was a sex doll.”
“I half expected him to report it,” Greg said. “But the days went by and he
never did. We ended up being good friends.”
“Of course, he didn’t report it,” The doctor said jumping to his feet. “You
were a cop! I bet he didn’t think he could get charges to stick. He was a kid.
He might have blamed himself for what happened. Hell, I bet he still does. He’s
been awful defensive of you.”
That made Greg sick to his stomach. He was fighting with the court to get
leniency and the person he hurt was trying to protect him.
“Is he really that bad off?” Greg questioned.
“I think I’ve convinced him to see a therapist,” John explained. “He is
starting to show signs of PTSD.”
“Tell him I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. If I could take it back I would.”
“Yea,” John snorted. “I’m sure they’ll make him feel better. I just wanted you
to know the damage you’ve caused.  This man has dealt with some of the most
dangerous criminals in the world. He’s been physically and mentally tortured.
Moriarty tried everything to break him. Well, you did what none of them could
do. You broke Sherlock Holmes. I hope you’re happy.”
Before Greg could think of something to say John turned and left his flat.
 
 
 
***** Chapter 6 *****
Sherlock couldn’t believe what he was doing. He was sitting in the waiting room
of a rape center.  The word “rape” burned in his mind. It just didn’t fit. He
wasn’t raped. He had an appointment to speak to a therapist but that didn’t
mean he was raped.
Maybe it would make John happy. His friend was over-reacting and was too
worried about him. Yes, he was having nightmares. They were starting to become
a bit of a problem, but he doubted speaking to a therapist was going to help.
“Sherlock,” came a gentle female voice.
Sherlock looked up to see a woman waving at him to follow her. He quickly began
reading her. Mid-thirties. Two kids at home. Happily married.
No. Not the time for that.
He stopped up and followed her into another room. It looked like a normal
sitting room. Great effort had been put into making it look welcoming.
“My name is Carol,” she said sitting down in one of the chairs. “Have a seat
wherever you like.”
Sherlock picked the small love seat across from her. He settled down and tried
to relax but being there just didn’t feel right.
“It’s all right to feel nervous,” she said opened the small folder she was
holding. “So…when you set up the appointment you said you’d experienced an
“incident” some years ago. Care to explain what caused you reach out to us?”
“One of my friends is being accused of sexually assaulting me,” Sherlock
explained. “He’s facing up to five years in prison for it. Apparently, it was
filmed at the time and was recently turned into the police.”
“How do you feel about him going away?” she asked.
“Angry,” Sherlock said. “I don’t think it’s fair he’s going to prison. His
whole life is being destroyed because of this.”
“Did he assault you?” Carol questioned looking up from the folder.
Sherlock didn’t know how to answer that. He had agreed to it, but he had been
underage. He had asked to stop a few times and Greg had ignored it. Yes. He had
begged him to stop. Didn’t that make it a crime? Was he allowed to change his
mind? Of course, he was. It would be insane to think otherwise.
“I suppose so,” he admitted not really wanting to admit the truth.
“Then shouldn’t he be punished for his crime?” she asked.
“It’s complicated,” the detective said. “I was in a place I shouldn’t have
been. If I hadn’t been there it wouldn’t have happened. I consented at first. I
don’t think he would have done anything if I hadn’t consented.”
“A first?” she asked. “Did you make it clear that you had changed your mind.”
“Yes,” he said nodding. “I asked him to stop several times.”
“Sherlock,” she said softly. “I understand that this is your friend. No one
wants their friends to go to prison but people need to be responsible for their
decisions. Just from what you’ve told me I can tell you that you were
assaulted.”
“If I hadn’t been where I wasn’t supposed to be it wouldn’t have happened,”
Sherlock said starting to raise his voice.
“Stop means stop,” Carol said. “The second you said stop he should have
stopped. No matter what.”
Sherlock sighed as he tried to get his temper under control. He knew Carol was
right. For some reason, his mind went to Rosie. What if this had happened to
her? What kind of advice would he give her? If she told a guy to stop and he
didn’t stop, he would tell her she had been assaulted. He would never let the
guy get away with it. Why was so hard to do the same thing for himself?
“Did you get therapy for this when it happened?” she questioned.
“No,” he said. “I just pretended it didn’t happen. I thought about telling my
parents but in the end, I just locked it up.”
“How have you been feeling since it came up again?” Carol asked.
“Awful,” he admitted with a dry chuckle. “I can’t sleep and when I do I just
have nightmares. I care for my god-daughter most days and I just haven’t been
able to handle it lately. I just feel too worn out to take care of her.”
“When something like this comes up self-care is very important,” she said.
“Stressing yourself out is just going to make it worse. I know these tips are
going to seem very childish but please listen with an open mind. Sometimes when
we lie down in bed we start thinking about all our problems and worries. Try
journaling right before bed. Dump all those thoughts before you try to sleep.”
Journaling? Wasn’t that something teen girls did?
He turned his nose up to the idea.
“Alright,” she said seeing his dislike of the idea. “Try a body pillow or a
stuffed animal. Sometimes the feeling of thing next to you is enough to ground
you.”
Was she serious?
“You want to keep a journal and cuddle with a stuffed animal?” he asked almost
unable to believe what she was saying.
“I suggest you try it,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe the difference it’s
made with some of my clients.”
She had to be out of her mind if she thought he was going to do something like
that.
“My friend is trying to get some leniency in his court case,” Sherlock
explained. “The judge said that if he could prove I wasn’t damaged in anyway he
might cut down his prison time. That’s one of the main reasons I came here. I
want to help him.”
He knew he needed help but he still did want to help his friend. He didn't
think he could be sent away for that long. Five years for a long time to be in
prison, especially for a cop. He knew had they got treated on the inside.
“It would be highly unusual for me to write a letter to support that,” she
said. “There are a few cases where it might be a good idea but I’m not sure
this one of them. You’re clearly having some issues because of this.”
“So, coming here was a waste of time?” he questioned.
He wasn't hopefully this woman could help him or Lestrade. 
“I’d have to see you a few more times before I would even think of suggesting
such a thing,” Carol said. “How long does he have to prove his case?”
“About two months,” Sherlock explained.
“How about we see each other again next week?” she asked looking through the
folder. “Maybe things will be a bit better by then.”
Sherlock had a feeling things weren’t going to get any better.
“I have a little homework for you,” she said removing a sheet of paper from the
folder. “Whenever you get overwhelmed with thoughts or feelings I want you to
write it down. Just a little log. Then if you do use a coping method I want you
to write down what you used and if it helped.”
She handed the sheets of paper to Sherlock. He looked at it with disgust. Why
did she want him to do this?
“You need to know what helps,” Carol urged. “If you know what helps then the
emotional breaks will be easier to manage.”
“I suppose,” he said folding the paper.
“I take you don’t want the full hour today,” she said as he put the paper in
his pocket. “You seem anxious to go.”
“If that isn’t a problem,” he said.
“Of course not,” she said. “You only have to stay as long as you feel
comfortable. I’ll put you in for next week. Same time.”
“Alright,” Sherlock said standing up.
“Try and take it easy,” Carol said. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“I’ll try,” Sherlock said simply before getting to his feet.
Without another word, he left the room.
++
Sherlock couldn’t believe that woman. She wanted him to get a stuffed animal.
What was he five years old?
Her words were still on his mind as he walked home. Without thinking about it
he had headed straight for a small toy store. He often brought Rosie toys from
there. He wasn’t there to get something for himself. He was there to pick up a
gift for Rosie.
They were having a special on stuffed animals. Buy one get one free. That
seemed too good a deal for Sherlock to pass up. He shifted through the pile of
sort animals looking for something that looked interesting.
His eyes fell on two different types of dragons. He picked up the creatures and
looked at them. They felt soft and welcoming in his hands.
He wasn’t buying one for himself. These were for Rosie.
Why was he lying to himself? What was the point?
He sighed and went to pay for his items.
++
 
Sleepness was slowly overtaking the detective's want to stay awake. Even though
it was almost one in the morning he was busy looking over his blog. Perhaps
someone had submitted something interesting for him to look at.
A quick look at it told him what he already knew. No interesting cases were
waiting for him.
He knew he needed to sleep. He had to be up at six when John got up for work.
Rosie always woke up then and wouldn’t go down for her nap for several hours.
He needed to be awake to take care of her.
Sherlock sighed and as he closed his laptop. He knew he needed to sleep.
He took his time closing his lap and placing it on the on the bookshelf where
Rosie couldn’t reach it. He stopped by the bathroom to brush his teeth and use
the toilet.
When he finally walked into the bedroom his heart was racing. He didn’t want to
face the nightmares and he didn’t want to try the therapist’s coping tips. Yet,
he knew he had to do something. Going without sleep when he was on a case was
easy but…lately it had become too much.
He bent down and pulled a white shopping bag out from under his bed. It
contained the stuffed dragon he had kept for himself. Rosie had loved the one
had given her. John scolded him a bit for buying her a new toy, but Sherlock
didn’t pay him any mind.
Sherlock removed the dragon from the plastic bag and placed it on the bed.
The offending object fell onto its side.
How was he supposed to do this? Was he just supposed to lie next to it or was
he supposed to hold it? How had he done this a child? His mind went back to his
youth. He didn’t have many stuffed animals as a child but he did remember one.
A teenage mutant hero turtle. Donatello. He’d bought it with his own pocket
money when he was about ten. He was too old to sleep with a stuffed animal but
something about the soft turtle had intrigued him He slept with every night
until he was sixteen.
Sherlock crawled under the blanket and picked up the dragon. After a little
debate, he decided it would be best to put it under the blanket with him. That
would make it easier to hide if someone came in. He didn’t want Mrs. Hudson or
John seeing the stuffed toy. He knew they wouldn’t tease him for it, but he
still couldn’t stand the idea.
He took a deep breath before closing his eyes. Then for the first time in days,
Sherlock Holmes slept soundly.
==
Note: I still sleep with a stuffed animal and I’m 30, so don’t feel bad if you
do. I believe TMNT was still called Teenage mutant hero turtles in Britain up
until 2006. I could be wrong.
 
 
***** Chapter 7 *****
Sorry for the lack of updates. My family is going through some rough stuff
right now. I’m also trying to study for mid-terms.
+++
Sherlock grumbled to himself as he slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight was
streaming in through his window. The soft fur of his stuffed dragon was ticking
his nose. He pushed away the toy with a disgusted grunt.
He had managed to sleep throughout the whole night. Had the dragon really
worked? Had the dragon really chased away the demons? The thought of needing
the toy made him sick to his stomach.
The detective picked up the toy and quickly stuffed it in his bedside table.
There was no way he wanted anyone to find it. Shame filled him as he slammed
the drawer shut. Why was he being reduced to this child like behavior? Why was
he letting this control him?
He quickly got dressed and headed out of his bedroom. He wanted to get as far
away from that dragon as possible. It was reminder of how damaged he was.
To his surprise he found Mrs. Hudson standing in the kitchen making breakfast.
The smell of bacon and pancakes filled the room.
“Hello Darling,” she said. “How did you sleep?”
“Why?” he asked raising an eyebrow.
He hadn’t talked to her about what was going on. He didn’t believe that John
would tell her without asking him first. That wasn’t like him.
“I don’t know what’s going on but I know something is up,” she said as she
flipped a pancake.
“You could say that,” Sherlock said walking into the sitting room.
Rosie was sitting in her playpen stacking blocks. She stacked them a couple
high before knocking them over. She giggled as they tumbled to the floor of the
play pen.
He picked up his mobile to check his messages. It was only then that Sherlock
noticed the time. It was half past eleven in the morning. He’d been asleep for
nearly twelve hours! He hadn’t slept that long since the last time he had the
flu. Forgetting about checking his messages he turned off his phone.
“Why didn’t someone wake me up?” he questioned putting his mobile down.
“John demanded I let you sleep,” Mrs. Hudson explained. “I was going to wake
you up once I fixed your meal.”
“I guess I needed it,” Sherlock said sitting down in his chair.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked fixing a plate of food for Sherlock.
“It’s just something that happened a long time ago,” he explained as the food
was handed to him.
Mrs. Hudson frowned at that. It had to be something pretty bad if he had
Sherlock so worked up. She knew better than to press Sherlock but she wanted
him to understand he could come to her about anything.
“Alright,” she said. “Just remember I’m always here if you want to talk about
it. I’ll be home all day if you need me.”
Without another word she left the flat. She could tell he wanted to be alone
with his thoughts. Sherlock had barely started eating when she re-appeared.
“Client,” she said knocking on the door gently. “Are you up to it dear?”
“Of course,” he said setting his food off to the side. “Have them come right
up.”
Mrs. Hudson nodded and walked away from the door. A few second later another
woman entered the room. She seemed a bit nervous but walked with confidence.
She met his eyes as she took a seat near him.
“My name is Marcy Green,” she said. “I am in dire need of your help.”
Marcy Green. He knew that name. She owned a pair of the best racing horses in
the country. He’d seen her name in the news recently. Horse Racing wasn’t very
interesting to him so he had simply glanced over the articles.
“You own race horses,” he explained.
“Yes,” she said nodding. “Silver Blaze and Bayard are the best race horses I’ve
ever owned.”
“What do you require of me?” Sherlock Holmes as Rosie began to whine.
She wasn’t bad about meeting new people but sometimes they made her a bit
nervous. He stood and walked over to playpen. He picked up the child before
returning to his chair.
“Well,” she said waiting for him to return to his seat. “Silver Blaze is
missing. I’ve reported it to the police but…I don’t think they’ll find him in
time.”
“Please explain yourself,” he said as Rosie began to chew on one of her
fingers. “Tell the story from the start.”
“Yesterday we had a terrible rain storm where I live,” she explained. “I
checked on the animals before I went to bed. I make sure every one of them is
where they should be every night. Everything seemed in order. Then when my son
went out to feed the horses this morning he found Silver Blaze missing.”
“Your son?” he questioned. “How old is he?”
“Twenty,” she said frowning. “It’s his job to feed them in the morning.”
Why the frown? She looked very disturbed when he asked her son’s age. He filed
it away as something to reference later.
“What other animals do you have?” he asked.
“Sheep and bees,” she explained. “Oh and a few dogs. I must find Silver Blaze.
He’s set to race in only a couple of days. Money has already been placed on
him. I’ll be a laughing stock of the race world if he doesn’t run.”
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Lydford,” she explained. “I know it’s a long trip but I’m desperate.”
Sherlock frowned at that new knowledge. The case seemed interesting enough but
that would require him to be away for a night. His mind went to the stuffed
dragon in his bed side table. He didn’t want to travel with it but he knew he
needed it.
“I’ll have to speak to John about this,” he offered.
“Of course,” she said quickly writing her mobile number down on a piece of
paper. “I’ll be in town for the night. Please call me when you’ve made up your
mind.”
“Of course,” he said taking the paper.
Marcy seemed to understand that Sherlock was done speaking with her. She
thanked him for his time before leaving the flat.
==
Sherlock still hadn’t made up his mind by the time John got home. He wasn’t
sure if John could or would come along and he couldn’t imagine doing it without
John. Who was his without his faithful blogger?
It was when John had a put Rosie down for the night that be brought up the
subject. He was in the middle of trying to read a book when his friend walked
back into the room.
“I have an interesting case,” Sherlock said as John sat down next to him on the
couch.
“Glad to hear it,” his friend said. “You needed one.”
“I need to go to Lydford for at least one night and I was wondering if you
would come along with me,” the detective said.
“I suppose,” he said. “I should be able to get the day off. We aren’t very busy
right now. I’ll have to ask Mrs. Hudson if she can watch Rosie. What’s the
case?”
“Marcy Green is missing her prize race horse,” Sherlock explained looking up
from the book he was trying to read.
“Silver Blaze is missing?” John asked raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t heard
anything about it.”
“I think she is trying to keep it out of the papers,” he explained with a
slight chuckle. “I didn’t realize you were a betting man.”
“I gamble from time to time,” John said shrugging his shoulders. “I might even
have a little money on that horse.”
“Then it is very important we get it back,” Sherlock said shutting his book.
“I’ll go speak to Mrs. Hudson about watching Rosie and then I have a phone call
to make.”
John shook his head as he watched Sherlock walk out of the sitting room. The
detective had a bit of a bounce in his step as he walked. Perhaps a case would
make him feel better. He’d slept through the whole night. Perhaps he was on his
way back to being his old self. Perhaps a night away would do them both some
good.
 
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