'Greg' [Sherlock Drabble]

Part 4

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"Pick up you bloody bastard." Greg snapped the phone shut for the second time. His current case was a total train wreck. Even Anderson had seemed incapable of locating a lead. He was quickly running out of time. In a few days the case would be turned over to the feds and Greg would be the laughing stock of the entire office. He hated to admit it, but he desperately needed Sherlock's help.

But why isn't he picking up? Sherlock always had his phone with him, even in the direst of circumstances.

He better be doing something useful.

Greg stirred from behind his desk. "Donovan, get opp eight on the line would you?"

His Lead Agent glanced up from her glowing computer and leveled him an appraising look. "You can't postpone this case any longer, Greg."

He dismissed her statement with a wave of his hand. "It's just for a few more days."

"The feds are flying up from America. Exactly how long are you planning on keeping this thing running?" Donovan crossed her arms over her chest.

"As long as it takes."

"You mean as long as it to find that consulting detective of yours? Has he answered his phone yet?"

"I don't need Sherlock Holmes to solve my cases for me." Greg said quickly as he stuffed the camera phone into his pocket. "And I wasn't phoning him," he added defensively.

"Yes you were," Donovan disappeared behind her computer again.

Greg rubbed a hand across his forehead. He stood for a moment longer before he snatched the file off his desk, grumbling a bit too himself as he strode briskly from the office.

Donovan smiled to herself as phrases like 'I'm her Superior,' and 'can't tell me what to do,' drifted from the behind the closed door.

Sherlock still hadn't answered his phone. Greg stole a glance around the emptying corridor. No one was watching. He quickly dialed the number again and held the phone to his ear. He counted three rings before he clicked it shut again. Sherlock always picked up on the third ring. Something was definitely up. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't exactly heard from the consulting detective for days.

Greg glanced down at his wrist. Sherlock was scheduled to meet with him in twenty minutes. Worry pricked his mind as he stood watching a crowd of people mill about the office down the hall.

One last time.

He drew the camera phone from his pocket and dialed the number. On the second ring, the call connected. Greg's eyes widened slightly in surprise and he paused to listen for a moment. His ears were met with the sound of distant clanging. "Sherlock?"