The Search for Lestrade (Samantha L./The Blogger, and others to follow?)

Don't be dead

It was the thought that flitted through her head as she stepped out of the cab and stood in front of 221B. She glanced down at her watch and then double checked the address on her phone. Dr. John Watson, 221B Baker Street, 48 hours. She stepped towards the door and paused a moment, dialing her brothers number one last time and listening to it ring You reached Greg. Can't make it to the phone at the moment, please leave a me... She disconnected the call and rang the buzzer beside the door once, waited a moment and rang it one more time.

As she waited for someone to answer she slowly rocked back and forth on her feet, waiting. A habit from the past that had never quite left her. To an outside observer watching her stand there she looked like a woman in her early 30's. Her brown hair pulled up and out of the way in a loose twist. She smoothed her hands over her dark blue jeans and adjusted her black peacoat,ignoring the occasional drop of rain that was so common this time of year, when the weather was indecisive.

John Watson had been grieving well considering the short time Sherlock and he were friends - however it was no thanks to Greg, Molly and Mrs Hudson. John kept some work up with New Scotland Yard and was trying to look over the case files in front of him. He then stood to make a cup of tea when the door went - not a social visit by the one impatient occurence.

He then head down stairs - he looked a bit disheveled but that was due to the nightmares and the excess of shifts he worked. John opened the door carefully and glanced at the younger woman. "Hello. Can I help you?" he questioned.

Samantha paused for a moment when the disheveled man opened the door. His appearance and the bags under his eyes made her question for a moment if she was in the right place. If this was the man who was suppose to help her. She realized after a moment that she'd taken more than the usually acceptable amount of time to respond to his question and kicked herself.

"Dr. Watson?" She waited for an affirmative gesture before continuing. "My name is Samantha Lestrade, I am Greg...Inspector Lestrade's sister, and I think he's in trouble."

The purpose of her call stated she waited to see what the doctor might do. A bit strange, that her brother would ask her to visit a surgeon in the event he did not return.

John listened to Samantha before smiling weakly and held open the door; "Yeah, call me John please." he cocked his head."Samantha. What-what happened? Come in." he stuttered.
He lead her upstairs and tidied up quickly. "Sorry about the mess. Would you like some tea?" he then smiled warmly at her. "I don't get many visitors. Please take a seat."

John then busied himself in the kitchen; putting hot water on for drinks. He knew Lestrade had a sister but he spoke of her much.

Samantha didn't say anything for the moment, preferring not to have this conversation on the street. She followed him up the stairs and paused again, looking at the state of the room. She wondered for a second time if she was really in the right place, but going to the police seemed daft. She recognized John from some of many photos that had circulated about him and Sherlock in the papers. Well then at least he might have some experience. She shook her head "No need to apologize and yes, John, tea would be welcomed...thank you."

She returned the smile, though it was thin around the edges, her thoughts turned towards Greg again. She didn't sit, filled with nervous and worried energy, being still didn't seem like an option. She moved to the doorway and watched the doctor for a moment, before moving to the table, though not yet sitting. She glanced at the odds and ends there for a moment and then looked back at John.

"On Sunday I had dinner with Greg, he seemed distracted all evening. At first he wouldn't tell me what was happening, but when I pressed he told me he was going away for a few days to do a favour for a friend. It didn't seem like the sort of favour that included helping a friend move, or cat sitting, so I pushed further as only a sibling can. He said he was going to check something out...for the brother of a good friend...Mind craft, Mindcrank? I can't remember the name." She paused to gather her thoughts and let that part of the story sink in.

John turned with the tea in process of brewing and listened attentively; he had wondred why Greg had not been in contact. John poured the tea and placed a mug near Samantha.
"It is unlike him - he hasn't many friends except in the force but no-one is moving at the moment." John chuckled then sighed. "Mycroft..he is - sorry was Sherlock's brother."

The memories filled him briefly and he had to calm his own breathing down before taking a sip of tea. "Please continue." he held out a reassuring hand.

Samantha took the mug and held it but didn't sip it. As John mentioned Sherlock's brother, she snapped her fingers and pointed. "Yes! Mycroft! That's it." She almost missed John's reaction as he mentioned Sherlock, and the passed tense. She knew Greg had also been deeply impacted by the man's suicide, and was adamant that he was innocent of what the press had smeered him with having done.

She nodded at the urge to continue and placed the mug back down, untouched for the moment.

"Right...well he seemed...nervous...no that's not the right word...concerned...he was rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, which is what he always does when things are..uncertain. He gave me this address and your name and told me that if I hadn't heard from him in 48 hours that I should come and find you Dr. Watson...John."

She took a sip of her tea, the forefinger and thumb of her other hand rubbing together, though she seemed quite unaware of it. "It's been 49 hours, and there is no answer on his mobile. Do you have any idea what he might have been doing for this Mycroft?"

She took a second sip of tea and then put it down, rocking from one foot to the other subtly.

John smiled warmly yet weakly and sipped the tea; hot and sweet - despite the strong memories from the past. "Blimey..Greg is rarely nervous, so it must have been something serious."

John then swallowed nervously, his tremor receeding; "We will find him Samantha, try not to be nervous. I-I will call Mycroft, he maybe able to track Greg's phone. Was there anything else?" he asked politely.

She was worried; there was no doubt about that point. Her unconscious hand gesture, apparently a family trait and her expression gave all away. She watched John as he responded. She seemed uncertain as to whether or not actually finding her brother was a possibility.

“Thanks you" She did appreciate John's help, though his response wasn't as satisfying as answer would have been. "Actually...if it's alright with you, I'd like the address of this Mycroft character. I’d rather like to ask him where he sent my brother that was so bloody important?" The final sentence said briskly, she paused for a moment and then added "...sorry...no need for an outburst”

She did looked at John expectantly though, assuming he would just give the address and be done with it. Did she have any idea that the man whose personal information she was demanding was a member of MI5? Not at all, though really with Greg gone, knowing probably would make a difference.

John smiled warmly and affectionately at her then cocked her head. "I don't think Mycroft would approve, and generally visiting him is not his forte...he rather-rather kidnap you." he chuckled. "However, let me call him while you are here. Peace of mind hey?!"

John stood up and retrieved his phone and then sat back down, tuckimg his handgun in the sofa. "Come and sit here.." he dialled the number and placing it on speakerphone.
Anthea answered and John spoke softly with authority, asking about Lestrade. She then spoke; "Sorry Doctor Watson, Mycroft has not been in contact for three days - he is in Switzerland. However the Detective Inspector was assisting him with a case. It's classified unfortunately."

Her lips curled into a displeased frown as John began to explain that Mycroft was not open to visitors, though an eyebrow raised as he mentioned kidnapping. The frown weakening at his offer, she nodded. "Thank you...I'd appreciate that".

She remained standing as he retrieved his phone, though she finally and for the first time sat on the sofa next to him. She looked...concerned. She bit her lip and looked over at him, offering a brief, thin smile as the phone rang. Then listened intently to the conversation.

She bit her lip again and it held for a moment before her words streamed out. "He sent Greg god know's where and then just left the country?" She stood, powered by the momentum of her thoughts "No, stating its classified is not good enough...I want to know where my brother was going!". She clenched her fingers into fists to stop herself from taking the phone and tossing it across the room in frustration because a)it wasn't hers to throw and more importantly b) the woman on the other line may actually know where her brother was going. And so she just stood there staring at the phone and waiting for an answer.

John leant over and placed a pacifing hand on Samantha - it was a gentle touch to hopefully calm her. When she stood; he watched her carefully. Anthea then spoke; "Doctor Watson, please allow me to send the files over, I do not wish to speak over the phone. However, do some research on a Charlie Milverton before the files reach you." she then hung up after John thanked her briefly.

"Have you heard of Milverton?" John questioned.

She looked down at the calming had provided and patted it with her other one, as if she was attempting to in fact placate John instead of it being the other way around. Then she stood.

She glanced at John after she spoke, the fingers on one had rubbing together hard enough that it seemed she might ware away the skin. She relaxed a little as Anthea mentioned sending over files. At least then she could DO something, the alternative wasn't something she was interested in. She watched as John said good bye and slowly moved to sit back down on the couch.

"Charlie Milverton...no. Is he someone I should have heard of?" She let out a slow breath and leaned back on the couch, actually almost relaxing...almost.

"Milverton is involved in some sort of blackmail scandal, he was recently involved in a possible sighting of my-my dead best friend." John smiled warmly at her and raised his eyebrows at Anthea's request. He then grabbed the laptop and typed in his password before passing it to Samantha. "Here, another tea?" he asked.

Samantha watched as John mentioned Sherlock again and stumbled over the words a little. She offered a consoling smile and asked curiously "Possible sighting? Is there...do you think there is a chance he's alive?" She immediately felt stupid for asking. So she was grateful for the switch in direction.

She took the offered laptop. "Ta" Shifting on the couch and curling her feet under her as she place it on her lap and typed in Milverton, Charlie to see what the great wide world of the internet would produce. She nodded "Another cup would be great." She offered a soft smile and then looked back at the screen intently, clicking and moving among the pages. She spoke aloud as she found key pieces of information.

"Charles August Milverton...appears to be an art dealer of sorts..." she let out a whistle "...his house is featured in a spread...he'd doing quite well for himself it would appear" She clicked on a picture of the man, and recognized him from the tabloids "Wait...is her the bloke that that actress...Karen Dove I think is her name, the bloke that she accused of being the reason her husband committed suicide?" She frowned a little "I'm not quite sure how this fits into what ever Greg's doing...or why he's not back yet."

She started chewing on the corner of the lip, thoughtfully, staring at the picture, squinting a little as if that might reveal the shady secrets Mr. Milerton's eyes seemed to hint at.

John shook his head and lowered his chin; "He-he jumped off a a building, there is no way he survived. I reckon it's one of these impersonators to be honest." he then sighed and smartened his resolve.

John made the tea with precision and listened to what Samamtha was saying, tutting and muttering at the information. John walkeed back over and sat down next to her with a smile; "Here, tea." he cleared his throat. "Honestly, I would not know what's gone on but we will find him - Greg was fab to me during Sherlock's death."

Suddenly the text tone on John's phone went off, he read it and paled. It was a message from his dead best friend.. John moaned and shook his head.

You are on the right track, you are not observing - SH