Kate Watson hummed cheerfully to herself as she walked down the streets of London. She'd moved to the city just two days before from her family home in Scotland. Finding an affordable flat, even though writers generally didn't make much money, had been easy. It was a nice place: small, simple, but not run-down. Now that she'd had a chance to settle in, she was on her way to meet her cousin, Dr. John Watson, for a cup of coffee.
She reached the café to find him seated at an outdoor table. He grinned widely and got up, arms outstretched. Kate moved into the warm embrace, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"It's so good to see you again, John."
"You too. Are you settling in all right?"
"Yes, just fine. So tell me, how is life with the world's only consulting detective?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You mean you aren't reading my blog?"
She snorted. "Don't be stupid, of course I'm reading your blog. I just meant how have things been, outside of the stuff you post?"
"Rather quiet lately, which is why I haven't been posting as much."
They got their coffees and went back outside to sit and drink them. Kate caught John up on how things had been going for her. She started her new job at a local newspaper the following Monday, which gave her several more days to get used to her new home.
Suddenly, John's mobile beeped. He pulled the phone from his pocket and read the text message there, then looked apologetically at his cousin.
"I'm sorry, Kate, I have to go. New case."
"I look forward to reading about it."
"Come over for tea tomorrow and I'll tell you about it in person."
"Ooh, I get to meet Sherlock Holmes?" She grinned. "Neat! I'll definitely be there. Around four?"
"That's fine; see you then." He kissed her cheek quickly and hurried to hail a taxi.
The next morning, Kate guessed that the case John had referred to was the one currently on the front page of every newspaper: the rape and murder of a young woman. She checked her cousin's blog and found a brief entry saying that Sherlock Holmes was indeed working the case.
Around quarter to four, she got a cab and headed for 221B Baker Street. She'd dressed comfortably: a plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a pair of worn, faded jeans.
Half an hour later, she was seated on the sofa, sipping tea and listening avidly as Sherlock discussed the case. The police suspected the dead woman's ex-boyfriend, but Sherlock dismissed that theory as too simple, too easy. He insisted that the case was more complicated than that.
There was a knock on the door, and John opened it to reveal a man with salt-and-pepper hair and dark eyes. Kate guessed he was probably in his forties. The man stepped inside, pausing when he saw her.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to intrude."
John made the introductions. "Detective Inspector Lestrade, my cousin, Kate Watson. She's just moved to London from Scotland."
The inspector reached out and shook her hand. "It's a pleasure, Miss Watson."
She smiled. "Likewise."
Lestrade turned back to Sherlock. "Just wanted to let you know that we had to let the ex-boyfriend go. He had a solid alibi. I don't suppose you've thought of any other possible suspects?"
Sherlock shook his head. "I haven't, no. When I do, I shall inform you."
Lestrade nodded. "Well, I'll be on my way, then." He smiled warmly at Kate. "It was nice meeting you."
Once he'd left, Kate sank back into the sofa cushions with an exasperated groan.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"What's wrong is that I just had to go for comfort over fashion when I got dressed this morning. I didn't know I was going to meet an attractive man. What he must think of me!"
Sherlock burst out laughing. "Lestrade? Attractive?"
She shrugged. "There was something about him. Not sure what, and not sure why I felt a spark, but then, what do we really know about why we're drawn to certain people?"
"Good point," John nodded.
Kate returned to her flat soon after. She couldn't resist powering up her laptop and running a search on Lestrade. She discovered that his record as a policeman was solid, he was 45 years old, and his first name was Gabriel. He'd been a policeman for nearly twenty years.
Her curiosity satisfied, she tried to put the man out of her mind for the time being. She doubted he was attracted to her, anyway. Best not to dwell on it.
Kate spent the next day arranging her things. She soon had the flat set up to her liking, with some of her own furniture and knickknacks. She was about to start working on the novel she was writing when her mobile beeped. It was a text message from John:
Thought you might like to know Lestrade was asking about you. JW.
She grinned as she closed the phone. That bit of news had just made her entire day.