Fallen State

Your Country Needs You

The main hall of Scotland Yard hadn't changed. Of course John was more used to being escorted straight through all the security procedures when he wanted to see Lestrade, rather than hang around. Still, he couldn't help but reflect on the fact the walls had the same faded blue colour, a chip out of one of the ceiling tiles hadn't been replaced. Out of date security posters hung everywhere, a few new ones appealing for information. John read them all – out of curiosity as well as a need for distraction. Eventually someone had been able to verify that he was indeed Doctor John Watson and he was informed with a stern, begrudging smile by the receptionist that Lestrade was able to see him.

It was an odd feeling, walking through the offices as a single party. Even stranger that he felt nervous. Hands ballsed by his sides, John waited to be introduced by the clerk but Lestrade was already striding towards his office door.

"John!" Lestrade grabbed John's before he had a choice in the matter. In a moment of confusion the detective appeared to second-guess himself and instead of pulling John into a hug he merely distant-patted his shoulder. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too," smiled John. And it was a genuine smile at that. If anything the moment made him wish he'd met up with him sooner rather than keeping a hermit-like distance. John pointed to the stack of papers on Lestrade's desk. "Business as usual?"

"Unfortunately." Lestrade nodded to the clerk that all was ok then closed the door as she left. "What can I do for you?"

It must have been the furrow in John's brow that gave him away. "Who says this isn't a social call?"

The look on Lestrade's face became sombre. "You've had twelve months to make a social call. I figured it must be important to come and see me, especially given - anyway," said the Inspector, gesturing for John to sit. "Tell me what troubles you."

John hadn't planned for this. Small talk, dancing around the subject, then a casual request for assistance – he had that down pat. At least it was more polite. But it seemed Lestrade wanted to cut straight to the point nowadays. Come to think of it, John used to do that more often. Now he'd become – flowery. Minimalist.

He was stalling. This wasn't a therapy session. "I've been getting strange calls on my personal phone," he said softly. "Two, in fact, so far. I also got an odd note shoved under my door, which the caller mentioned when I spoke to them last time."

Lestrade's eyes narrowed. "Caller ID?"

"Withheld."

"And they threatened you?"

"Indirectly speaking." John felt foolish. Two calls from a random loon weren't reason to waste police time but without direction or Sherlock to go to, he'd had to find someone else.

At least Lestrade didn't appear disappointed to be brought so little a case. In fact he looked pleased.

"I'm glad you came to me."

John forced a small smile on his face. Well, he wasn't about to tell the Inspector he'd not been his first choice - that Lestrade simply had the benefit of being more accessible than Holmes' brother.

"What did the caller say exactly?" asked Lestrade, picking up his mug.

John thought back to the early morning hours, the hiss of the voice ringing in his ears. He'd not slept since, the sentences replaying in his mind. "Said bad things happen to good people. That he'd sent the note to me, I was asking all the wrong questions. Sounded like some game to him. He mentioned – Sherlock. Could be some desperate nutter wanting a headline. Probably is, but-"