It was a good day. Greg Lestrade was looking forward to his date in the evening. Finally, after that whole disaster with his wife, ex wife he reminded himself, he had the guts to ask Molly out. He was slightly surprised when she actually said yes. He had liked her for quite a while but had always thought that he would never have a chance with her. But now it was just one more routine interview to go and then he'll soon be on his way to pick her up. Little did Lestrade know, that in a blink of an eye this day will become hell.
The guy he was interviewing wasn't their prime suspect, he only had some questions regarding the victim. Sherlock had deduced that the victim had an affair with one Leroy Greydon and that he was one of the persons who saw her last.
The Interview should be over quick. He had left Sherlock and John at the Yard. He would fill them in later.
Greg rang the doorbell and a couple of minutes later a middle aged man opened the door.
"Mr. Greydon?" Greg asked.
"Yes," Greydon replied, looking at Greg sceptically, "how can I help you?"
"I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard," Greg introduced himself and showed Greydon his warrant card. "I have a couple of question, may I come in?"
“Please, do come in Detective Inspector” Greydon said and stepped aside to let Greg pass. “Do you want a cup of tea or something?” He asked while closing the door, showing Greg the way to the living room. “After you.”
“No, thanks” Greg reclined politely. He only had a couple of questions and didn't want to stay longer than necessary. “Mr. Greydon, regarding your rela....” he didn't get any further.
Something hard hit him on the back of his head. His vision got blurry and he had to use all of his strength to not pass out.
Clinging to the side of the wall Greg tried to reach his Baton but he was too slow. Another blow to the side of his head made him loose all of his remaining strength and his legs gave away.
He slit to the floor nearly passing out and while he was trying to fight the black spots that kept dancing before his eyes he saw Greydon stepping over him walking out of Greg's sight.
He heard a door close, assumed that Greydon fled the scene and therefore allowed himself a couple of minutes to become fully aware.
”Fuck!” Greg thought.
He pulled himself up, trying to ignore the spinning room and the pain in his head. He could feel blood running down his face from a cut above the eyebrow.
“Fuck!” He leaned onto the wall, fumbling for his mobile. It took him quiet a while but finally he was able to take one hand off the wall without having to fear to fall over. He dialled Donovan's number to let her know about this whole disaster and that she must conduct a search for Greydon asap.
Greg put the mobile to his ear and waited.
“Hey Lestrade,” he heard a female voice on the other end of the line,“Interview over, Boss?”
Greg breathed through the pain. He was about to answer when he heard a car pulling up outside the house. “Shit!” Greg thought, realizing that it most likely was Greydon returning for whatever reason. Probably to dispose his body.
Now he had to act quick. He didn't hear any car doors or the front door being opened so he still had some time.
“Donovan, listen. I'm at Greydon's. Sherlock knows. He attacked me. Greydon. I'm fine, though. He left but I think he's coming back. I need backup right away! I need to get out of here or hide or what ever” Looking around for a way out he noticed that he was rambling.”Bloody head wound” Greg thought.
“Boss are you really okay?" Donovan sounded concerned.
“Yeah m'fine only got knocked over the head a bit. Bit wobbly but had worse,” he answered while turning and suddenly froze.
Greydon was standing in the hallway holding a gun.
“Thought I left, did ya? That I would run away?” he asked with an ice cold voice. “Thought you could get away, eh? Too bad for you that I didn't leave the house, just had to search for my old friend here to finish you off”
And suddenly Greg's world was full of pain. He heard Donovan screaming. He felt three bullets hitting him right in the chest and the stomach. His legs buckled and he hit the floor hard. His mobile slit away from him, Donovan still on the other end of the line, panicking. He felt blood, his blood wetting his shirt and the floor beneath him. Breathing was getting horribly difficult.
Greydon was leaning over him now, grinning. Under normal circumstances Greg would have panicked, would have tried to get away from that madman. But the only thing he was able to do right now was lying still and trying to get some precious oxygen into his lungs. He was on the brink of unconsciousness.
“Bye bye Pig,” the gun was now aiming at his head.
A single gunshot rang through the house.