Author: Ariane DeVere
Word count: 221
Warnings: Character death. Mild bad language. Angst.
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to way more powerful and wealthy people than me.
The Warnings above say it all: Ari is currently on the Angst half of her Crack / Angst cycle. But it’s only a 221B, so at least it’ll be over quickly.
The idiot shouldn’t even have been there but, like so often in the past, had found out where the team was going and simply turned up. And when it all went tits up and Laura Dickerson’s gang arrived, he was the only one near to the door. Lestrade would never forget his look of determination, resignation – and regret – as he glanced back at the others one last time before swinging the door closed, locking himself in with the gang as he pulled the key out and dropped it down the drain, keeping the Yarders safe but leaving them utterly unable to assist. John’s anguished scream when he heard the first gunshots on the other side of the door would probably ring in Lestrade’s ears for the rest of his life.
And now Lestrade looked out over the congregation, pleased that so many people had come. He turned his eyes to the coffin. “You always were a bloody idiot,” he told it fondly, and Sally choked out a brief laugh from the front pew before burying her face in her hands.
“But you finally ended up being a good man,” Lestrade continued shakily. “I knew you could be.”
In a show of utmost respect, he addressed his fallen colleague the same way he always had.
“Thanks, Anderson – you utter, idiotic, stupid berk.”
Author’s Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry (well, sort of ...). Though I’m not sure if I should be apologising for making it look like Sherlock was the one who had died, or for once again trying to redeem Anderson. I don’t even know why I keep trying to make him the good guy!