Danger Nights

Chapter Nine

Astrid didn’t get far. Sherlock caught up to her easily and snatched her jumper hood. When she spun around to kick him, she lost her balance and fell onto all fours.

“Let me go!” she yelled. “I’m under eighteen! I’ll sue you if you touch me!”

Sherlock, unfazed, yanked her upright just as Lestrade and a few of the kids hurried up.

“Easy, Sherlock,” Lestrade pleaded. To Astrid he said, “There’s no need to run. We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to know what you saw.”

“Yeah? Tell this ponce to let go then.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Sherlock growled.

The blond youth raised both hands. “Astrid, it’s cool. It really is. Whatever shit you saw at the hospital, Sherlock can protect you. He knows some important people.”

“And I know even more people who think they’re important but are merely reasonably competent,” Sherlock added, staring pointedly at Lestrade. The former DI glared back before taking out his phone and composing a text to Anthea. After providing their location, he added, I think this girl definitely saw something.

“I don’t want any part of it,” Astrid insisted. “I should never have opened my bloody mouth.”

“Really? I’m rather glad you did.” Sherlock leaned forward. “Out with it. What’s this about bodies?”

She crossed her arms. “Why don’t you go jump off a building- again?”

“Astrid!” a boy with multiple nose rings gasped. “Jesus Christ!”

Sherlock –to everyone’s amazement- didn’t throw her into an overflowing bin. He actually smiled, but his lips were pulled back so tightly that he resembled a snarling wolf.

“So you read the tabloids and are capable of a weak put-down. Congratulations. You’ve just outed yourself as a pathetic specimen of humanity.”

“Makes two of us then.”

Lestrade took out his badge. Actually, it was one of the many badges that Sherlock had stolen from him over the years. Being retired he was technically no longer allowed to use it, but this situation called for unorthodox measures.

“I’m with the police,” he said. “And I’m warning you that you’re withholding information in an important investigation.”

Astrid arched an eyebrow. “I’m fourteen. You can’t talk to me unless a parent or guardian is present.”

Lestrade’s phone emitted a text alert. The message was from Anthea.

En route. Mr. Holmes informed of developments. He says to bring the girl to the house for additional questioning. I will assist with transfer. A.

Lestrade had no idea how Anthea intended to get this baby tiger into a car in front of witnesses. The street kids probably wouldn’t say or do anything for Sherlock’s sake, but a handful of people were waiting at a bus stop two blocks away, and any shouts or screams would draw their attention fast.

As he put the phone away, he said uneasily, “You really want your parents involved, Astrid?”

“Is that a problem?” Everything about the girl- her stance, her unblinking stare- radiated defiance. Unable to run, she was clearly determined to make things as difficult as possible.

“You’re not calling anyone until you tell us what we want to know,” Sherlock hissed. His grey eyes glittered in mounting anger: even the street kids now regarded him nervously. Lestrade understood his anxiety: the surly Astrid might have unwittingly seen John and Alexei being taken from the hospital, and every second that she did a human stonewall act represented precious time lost. But Lestrade knew something that Sherlock was too agitated to appreciate: threatening a minor on a public street would create more problems than it solved.