Sherlock | Inception AU
“Good evening, Mr. Lestrade.”
Greg froze, finger still on the light switch just inside his front door. Someone was in his house. Someone was in his house and sitting on his couch. They were sitting on his couch, wearing a very expensive suit and tie, and they knew his name.
“I’d ask how you got in, but this place isn’t exactly Fort Knox.”
The man smiled. It would have been less frightening if he’d pulled out a bloodied knife. The smile was terrifying, all power and pretense.
“I’m no novice at opening closed doors, Mr. Lestrade. I’m also not one to waste time skirting around an issue. So let’s get down to business. I have a proposition for you.”
Greg snorted. The man looked amused, but not surprised.
“Now, now, don’t be rude. Let me finish before you try and shut me down. You may not be aware but I have close friends in high places. You probably are aware that the government has been keeping tabs on you and your little operation for a while now.”
Greg must have suddenly looked panicked as the man hurried to reassure him.
“You needn’t worry, they’re not concerned with the activities of an ex-inspector. I’m not here because of them. I require the services of an extraction team.”
Greg was beginning to lose patience.
“There are plenty of extraction teams.”
He said, spitting the words out.
“How well do you know your team? Do you trust them?”
Greg thought of his team. He was proud of them, he’d never worked with a more skilled team, and he’d been in this line of work for almost 8 years now.
“Implicitly. There’s nobody better at what they do.”
The last bit wasn’t necessary, but he didn’t want this stranger to have any doubt in his mind about Greg’s feelings.
“That’s excellent. My name is Mycroft Holmes. I have a brother, you may have heard of him, although I doubt you ever had the displeasure of working with him. You’d left the force by then.”
Left the force. That was a polite way of putting it. There was something about the name Holmes that triggered a memory somewhere deep in Greg’s brain.
He said, grasping at a name that floated to the surface. Genuine surprise flitted over Mycroft’s face but the mask of impassivity returned as quickly as it had disappeared.
“Yes, that’s him.”
The curiosity in his voice was subtle but present.
“We corresponded over the Carl Powers case. He was convinced of foul play but it was all so circumstantial. We couldn’t do anything.”
There had been almost two dozen letters exchanged between Greg and the teenage boy over the course of a few months. The kid had been nothing but persistent.
“Oh I see. Yes, I remember that time very well. I did try to explain to him how the justice system works but I recall it only served to make him very upset. My brother is a very gifted individual. His brain capacity is astounding, his observational skills far beyond that of the vast majority of the population. Naturally, this mental prowess means that my brother gets bored. Of late he has been very bored and he’s getting restless. When my brother is bored and restless…well, let’s just say that it gets dangerous.”
Greg wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
“So where does my team come into all this?”
Mycroft smiled. Or he might have pursed his lips. It was hard to tell.
“My brother needs a distraction. A substantial distraction. I want to give him a nemesis, someone as brilliant as he is, someone who can inspire him and challenge him. Another him, to be precise.”
Greg frowned. He’d been right to not like where this was going.
“I’m an extractor. I run an extraction team. We extract information.”
He said, firmly.
“Ah, but there is another technique. One that only the most skilled of teams are capable of perfoming. And you’ve performed it before, haven’t you Mr. Lestrade?”
Greg nearly bit his tongue in his anger. In that moment he resolved to punch this Mycroft Holmes bloke in his very large nose if he mentioned Dimmock.
“Why go through all this just to entertain your little brother? Try buying him an Xbox, or a membership to a gym. It’s cheaper, and legal.”
Mycroft’s eyes narrowed. The effect was chilling.
“I’ve already told you, my brother requires a very specific kind of entertainment.”
Suddenly everything clicked into place.
“You want my team to place the idea of a nemesis in his mind. You don’t think he’ll buy it otherwise. You want him to think that he’s thought of the idea himself.”
The cold smile of before was replaced with one that seemed almost genuine.
“Correct, Mr. Lestrade. I assure you, you and your team will be handsomely rewarded.”
“I don’t want money.”
Mycroft looked disappointed.
“I never said you did. There is something you do want though.”
Greg swallowed heavily, resisting the urge to bite his lip until it bled.
“You think you can get my job back?”
He laughed bitterly.
“No, Mr. Lestrade. I know I can get you your job back. All it would take is a single phone call. The Dimmock issue would disappear in an instant. There would be nothing stopping you from rising even higher than your previous rank of Detective Inspector.”
At the mention of Dimmock’s name Greg had stepped forward, fingers curled into a fist all ready to strike, but an umbrella jabbed him in the chest and prevented him from going through with the intended punch.
“Call your team. I’ll be waiting for you all at your favourite bar at 10 o’clock. Be prompt. We’ll discuss terms there.”
With all the grace and elegance of a dancer, Mycroft rose and strode across to the door.
“Which bar might that be?”
Greg half-shouted at him. Mycroft paused.
“You know which one.”
He said, without turning around, and then he was gone. Greg let out a sigh. This job was ridiculous, it sounded almost impossible. But he couldn’t turn it down, not without informing his team. He might lead them but they were all in it together. He would never accept or turn down such a large job without consulting them first. From his pocket he withdrew his phone. Sally’s number was first on the speed dial. If she didn’t like the idea then he would have no trouble convincing the other’s to decline. But if she was in favour of it…there would be no turning back.
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