Title: Sister, Little Sister
Author: Regency
Characters: Jean Innocent, Hathaway, Laura Hobson, Robbie Lewis, Helen Cox (x-over The Wrong Mans)
Rating: G/Everyone
Word count: ~2,300
Warnings: Cracktastic.
Summary: Few at Oxford CID have met Mr. Innocent, but fewer still have the Chief Superintendent's elder sister. MI-5 Director Helen Cox's untimely visit is a stern lesson in shutting doors before gossiping.
Author's Notes: Think Sherlock and Mycroft, except Jean is not nearly as Sherlock as Sherlock is, but Helen is exactly as Mycroft as you think she is. It's a bit of fun. Roll with it. A bit of a shoutout to Rebecca Front's character in Psychobitches if you squint. I just really like Rebecca Front, you guys.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, settings, or plot elements recognizable as being from the television series (Inspector) Lewis and The Wrong Mans. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
"Christ but she did go on a bit, didn't she?" Lewis intoned as he, Laura, and James poured into their shared office following one of the chief super's mid-case pep talks.
"A bit? I've aged at least a decade. Can't you see the grey, James?"
"You don't look a day over twenty-five, Dr. Hobson," James replied matter-of-factly while hanging his jacket on the rack.
Dr. Hobson scoffed. "Well-played." She nudged Lewis. "You've trained him well."
Lewis disclaimed all responsibility. "He came fully-equipped with wit and good breeding. That's none of it my doing."
"One would have to be well-bred to stay upright and lucid during that drone. I'm not sure how the elusive Mr. Innocent could bear the excitement. I think—Robbie, I think I might need you to check my pulse."
"If I can be of any help, Doctor, you're welcome to enquire."
Happy enough to ignore their idle flirtation, James returned to consulting their case board for connections between their list of suspects and the latest evidence collected from the scene. He'd only just reached the bottom when he spotted a previously unnoticed figure standing behind the board.
"Chief Superintendent."
Lewis and Dr. Hobson shifted apart guiltily in the face of Innocent's indifferent greeting.
"Ma'am, didn't see you there."
Chief Superintendent Innocent was typing rapidly into her mobile, a more up-rent model than Hathaway was accustomed to her using. "Don't mind me, Inspector. I needed to answer a text, so I ducked into your office for a moment. Hope you don't mind."
"No, not at all."
"Wonderful, since I'm not quite ready to leave." She signaled for them to continue with their previous conversation. "Don't let me stop you, this was just getting interesting." She flashed a hair-raising smile at the trio. "It's always nice to know what my best people think of me."
"It was all in good fun, ma'am. We hold you in the highest respect."
"Certainly, certainly. I wouldn't doubt it." She tapped her screen one final time. "But, and I use that word judiciously, may I offer the three of you a piece of friendly advice?" She fixed each of them with her surprisingly steely gaze. "Check the scene before you start gabbing. You never know who's listening. Good evening."
"Ma'am," Hathaway and Lewis chorused to Dr. Hobson's subdued, "Chief Superintendent."
They stood in silent contemplation for a moment, listening as the door clicked securely on the woman's exit. Hathaway was the first to break it.
"I wasn't the only one to find that somewhat odd, was I?"
"No."
Dr. Hobson crossed to the door the look in the direction Innocent had gone. "Did she change clothes in the last five minutes?"
"And her hair? It wasn't that red. Not in years."
"Could be the lighting," Lewis offered, reluctantly.
"Maybe. But if anything, the lighting's worse here than in the squad room. It should look darker, not redder."
They uneasily debated the strange encounter for a couple of minutes before moving on to other topics.
Yet, their discomfiture was only increased by Innocent's subsequent reappearance five minutes latter…in the clothes she had been wearing originally; something reasonably flattering had the pattern not bordered on eye-searing.
"Ma'am, fancy seeing you back here."
Innocent looked from face to face, no trace of her earlier irritation in evidence. "I'm not sure I follow you. Is something the matter? You all look as though you've seen a ghostly apparition. I quite assure you I'm very much alive."
Lewis nudged Dr. Hobson's ankle before she could say anything that would queer their pitch with this Innocent as well. Hobson took her queue and stayed mum. Hathaway only pursed his lips.
"Right, this silent treatment is all very strange to me, but I'll put that down to you three being exhausted on a Friday night after a busy week. I meant to announce my intention to cut out early this evening. I've family visiting. I'll be reachable by phone—please, reach me before you cause another public relations incident, Robbie."
"Yes, ma'am," he responded like the good little soldier he wasn't. Innocent rolled her eyes, though there was an acknowledged fondness in it.
"That fills me with confidence. James, I look to you to keep him out of trouble. Heaven knows why that is. Gentlemen, Dr. Hobson." She acknowledged each of them with a less glacial glance than before.
They chorused again, "Ma'am" and, "Chief Superintendent."
"Someone pinch me." Lewis obliged only for Dr. Hobson to whack him on the shoulder. "Not that hard."
"Sorry!"
"A likely story," she jibed, poking him in return. The two of them never missed a moment to share a bit of banter.
"That was bizarre," Hathaway cut in, absent-mindedly. "That was bizarre, wasn't it?" He didn't allow them a moment to intercede, thinking aloud. "Did she forget we just spoke?"
As usual, Lewis was on his wavelength. "Was that her the first time? Or the second time?"
"I'm inclined to think neither of them were her and she's been abducted by extraterrestrials who've gotten their appointments mixed up."
"Don't be silly, Dr. Hobson, our friends to the North are far too clever to make such elementary mistakes."
There she was again, the other Innocent in the dark dress and auburn hair standing at the door.
"Right," was all Hobson thought to contribute. She did a mental count. It hadn't been five minutes. It couldn't have been. "Am I right in thinking you're not Jean Innocent?"
"And here I thought you were all book learning and cleverness. Well done, Dr. Hobson. Ten points to Ravenclaw." She glanced at Hathway who was examining her closely from his desk. "Yes, you're right, too. Ten points for resolving the riddle, minus five for failure to share your findings."
A well-known patter filled the room. "Helen, what have I told you about tormenting the personnel?"
The woman now known as Helen shrugged at Jean Innocent's subsequent re-appearance. "I'm quite sure I don't remember."
The three inside the office looked between the women in baffled silence. Helen stood taller, a fact no doubt attributable to her higher pumps. Her bent toward fashion was more conservative, dark, rich colors complimenting her skin tone where Innocent's more colorful, somewhat outlandish ensemble clashed. Otherwise, they were mirror images of one another, down to the hazel eyes and expectant expressions.
"You have a sister," Hathaway concluded first.
"A twin sister," said Lewis second.
"I'm older," Helen contributed, not a little high-handedly. There's the resemblance, they all thought in different words.
"By eight minutes." Innocent rolled her eyes, as if reciting a well-worn argument. "Spare me the sisterly diatribe for once in our lives."
"Shan't. Won't. Somebody's got to look after you and it so happens it's down to me."
"You don't think that's a bit below your pay grade, Madame Director?"
"Afraid not. Now don't you think you should properly introduce me to your colleagues? They must have so many questions."
"Don't intimidate them," Innocent warned.
"What sort of operative would I be if I didn't?"
"A more tolerable one, one would hope." Innocent pasted a strained smile onto her face and introduced each of them in turn. "Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis, Detective Sergeant James Hathaway; Dr. Laura Hobson, coroner. This is my sister, Director Helen Cox, Security Service."
"Security Service," Hathaway latched onto at once. "As in MI-5?"
"That's it precisely. Dame Grace was my predecessor and is a dear friend of mine. I hear you've met her."
"So when you said 'operative…"
"I meant that quite literally." That steely look from before made conspicuous return. "As I said, you never know who's listening."
"Stop scaring them and go wait in the car."
Helen pulled a face. "Bossy."
"Truly hilarious coming from you. Go now!"
Helen nodded her goodbyes and took her leave, sending a shock wave of double takes through the bullpen as she passed to the exit.
"She enjoys that entirely too much," murmured Innocent, perturbed. "If you think she's an event, wait till you meet our sister the therapist. She'll have you on a lounge dissecting your life in minutes. Something to think about." Innocent's parting smile was positively wicked.
"Well, that was terrifying."
"Do you think the therapist looks like them?"
"You mean there might be three of her?"
"They're different people," Hathaway reasoned, "but obviously similar." He swallowed uneasily. "Possibly very similar."
Dr. Hobson piped up, "Drinks, anyone?"
"Several, please."
"I thought you'd never ask."
From a car in the car park, Helen Cox watched the excitably chatting threesome drive away together.
"What's teed you off, then?" Jean asked as she put her things away in the backseat and strapped herself into the passenger seat. Helen always heartily insisted on driving when they were together. Something to do with car bombs and civilian operatives. Jean had learned not to enquire further ages ago.
"Can't a girl just cause some mischief on her sister's behalf?"
"Not you. You've always got a reason. Let's hear it."
"They called you dull."
Jean thought it over. "Dull as in boring or dull as in dimwitted?"
"Does it really matter?"
"If my officers lack confidence in my leadership because they think me a fool, that is very much a problem, so I'd say it matters. If they think me merely uncharismatic, there are worse things. I don't need them to worship at the altar of my personality, only follow my orders."
"Whatever you say, sister mine." Helen started the car and they peeled out of the emptying lot on burning rubber. For a woman who rarely drove herself anywhere, Helen enjoyed the odd high speed joyride.
Once they had reach a traffic light and the urge to throttle her older sister had passed, Jean felt safe to continue their previous topic.
"I'm touched you felt compelled to defend my honor, as usual."
Helen pursed her lips at the road, trying in vain to glare the crossing pedestrians into submission. "What are you on about? I thought we talked about you drinking on the job."
Jean pinched her sister in the side, making the other woman hiss and twist behind the wheel. "All right! Christ! So I've defended you once or twice during the course of your career. I've the means to do it, why shouldn't I?"
"Don't get on your high horse with me of a sudden. I'm a big girl capable of defending my own good name."
"And so what? I shouldn't? I should let anyone say anything without stepping in?"
Jean clucked softly. "It's not like you to be this sentimental."
"Please, Jeanie. When it comes to you and Catherine, it's exactly like me. I am your sister, half the reason I joined MI-5 in the first place when you didn't was to keep you safe from the likes of the small-minded."
Humming, Jean adjusted the car's SATNAV to ensure they didn't end up at the same pub as Lewis and company. "I washed out. That's on me. Catherine had no interest in using her degree for Advanced Interrogation Tactics and quit early on. Her choice. You can't protect us from our own choices any more than you can protect us from being disliked. And that's all it is, Helen." She squeezed her sister's hand on the steering wheel. "Mere dislike. They've no ill will toward me. I'd daresay we get along quite well most of the time. So they have the odd laugh at my expense. I'll survive. My position is unthreatened by the occasional off-color joke. In thirty years, if all anybody can say about me is that I could be more exciting, then I've done a decent job of it. So have you."
"They weren't even good jokes. What's the point if they're not funny?" Helen was arguably the funniest of the sisters. She could hardly abide a missed chance for levity. Jean supposed it was because her life was otherwise too occupied with a lack thereof. National security isn't a happy woman's game.
"They really got your goat on this one. Don't tell me, the mysterious Mr. Innocent came up for the umpteenth time." Helen had never liked Jean's choice of husband, had warned her since their early days that he would be nothing but trouble. Jean could admit that her sister was right, but she wouldn't be admitting that right now.
"Why you insisted on marrying a spook, I'll never know. No wonder most of your colleagues are convinced he doesn't exist."
Jean shrugged, envisioning the suave and scintillating man about town who'd swept her off her feet at age twenty-three. He had been older and brilliant. She had been younger and brilliant. What two people could go more perfectly together? Thirty years on, what two people could go less so? "I suppose I couldn't resist the intrigue."
Helen sighed, regretfully. "I could have set you up with a nice accountant or even a Lord Justice."
Jean scoffed. Her ambition alone would have smothered those relationships in their childbeds. "I would have died from boredom."
"What astounding irony, according to your subordinates."
Jean pinched her sister again, harder this time and got pinched back for her trouble. "And for that, you get the first round."
"I get every round, you utter cheapskate."
"Baby sister's prerogative."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Helen rolled her eyes. "Maybe not."
"As Catherine would say, that's a breakthrough."
For that Helen turned up the radio to drown Jean out for the rest of the ride. She couldn't bear it when Jean managed to get a joke in edgewise.
Jean was content enough in her victory not to say a word. In a family of three similar sisters, they all had their fortes. Helen's was being protective, Catherine's was being peacemaker, and Jean's was getting her way. Jean would argue she was best at hers. Her sisters would grudgingly agree.