Disclaimer: Finally! I promised a SH22 fic and here it is! I do not own Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century! I do own Tori (not in THAT way! Sheesh, you people have a one-track mind....) --; Anyway, on with the story!!!

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It was a cold, rainy day in New London. The rain came down in heavy curtains over the city, drenching anything that dared to step outside into it in mere seconds. Weather like this was depressing, not only because of the rain. Today was the beginning of Spring Break and the middle of April.
Sighing, Lestrade returned to rereading the report Grayson demanded -err- requested she file. A few days ago, the Cuerpo de la Estralla (on lone from Spain) was stolen by Moriarty. It took Holmes about 68 hours to track him down to some old barn near Liverpool. As usual, Moriarty resisted arrest, and, like always, he got away. In the end, Holmes walked away with a cut above his right eye (curtsey of Fenwick), Watson with dents in his torso (one of Moriarty's lackeys who didn't know he was metal), and Lestrade limped away with a sprained ankle (tripped over stairs chasing Moriarty). While reading the report (for about the tenth time), she barely noticed the figure that had walked up to her desk.
"How's that ankle, Ms. Inspector?"
Lestrade looked up at the person. A black coat hung loosely on the tall, lean form and came to the knees of a pair of blue jeans. Chestnut hair barely brushed the nicely trimmed shoulders, while cheek-length bangs almost hid a pair of green eyes from sight. With arms behind her back, the young woman smiled mischievously. Groaning at the comment, Lestrade gave her a look.
"What brings you to the Yard, Tori?"
Tori just smiled. "This." She brought her hands in front of her, to reveal two Styrofoam coffee cups. "French Vanilla, hold the froth," she continued, holding out the cup in her right hand. Lestrade took it, tossing her report aside.
"How'd you know," Lestrade said, taking a sip. "That I love French Vanilla coffee?" The other smiled, white teeth flashing.
"It's what they call a sibling's intuition, Liz."

30 min later

When Holmes walked into New Scotland Yard, the first thing he noticed was the person sitting across from Lestrade. Both seem to be in a deep conversation, between the frequent bursts of laughter and sipping their coffee. He had never really seen Lestrade laugh like she did now, like she was with an old friend or something. He didn't know what it was, but a small part of him couldn't help but notice the way her blue-violet eyes sparkled when she laughed. Scolding himself, Holmes pushed the thought away. The only relationship he and Lestrade had was a business one, nothing more, nothing less.

While he was contemplating this thought, he discovered that Watson had come up behind him and Lestrade had stopped laughing long enough to motion them over. They did so, and when they got to the side of her desk, Holmes got a better look at the young woman who sat across from the inspector. Her hair was a lot like Lestrade's, only a shade darker and no blonde streak. She wore a purple ¾ sleeved shirt over black fishnet, and her blue-jean bellbottoms hugged her waist, however no skin showed.

"Holmes," Lestrade started, motioning to the person across from her. "This is my sister, Victoria. Tori, this is Sherlock Holmes." Holmes bowed, and Tori smiled and took the hand he offered her.

"Pleased to meet you," Tori said. "Liz's told me about you. Congradulations on finding the Cuerpo de la Estrella."

"Thank you," Holmes replied. "I had a great deal of help from you're sister, detective." Astonishment flashed on her emerald eyes, and the revived detective smiled. "I couldn't help but notice you're picture Lestrade's desk."

Sure enough, there on the desk (amid scattered papers and the long- forgotten report) was a small picture frame. The girl in the photo couldn't have been older than 16, with her hair pulled into a simple bun at the base of her neck. She wore the dark blue uniform of the New York Police Department, with her badge proudly shining in the light of the flash. Tori smiled at the picture.

"That's me, alright," Tori laughed. "I didn't think you would have put it on your desk. Well, it seems like you have some business to discus with each other, so I'll just mosey on outa here." With that she rose, and went for her coat and purse on the coat rack beside the desk. Holmes got there first, plucking the trench coat and the burgundy purse off the hook, handing them to the slightly blushing brunette. Slinging the purse's long strap over her shoulder and draping the coat over her arms, she turned to go and looked back to Lestrade. "Let me know if you change you're mind, Liz. Later."

Holmes looked questionably Lestrade, who shook her head at the retreating back of her sister. The inspector waved a gloved hand to the now vacant seat across from her. He sat down, glancing at the picture.

In the time he knew her, Lestrade never talked much about her relatives. He knew her father had been an inspector, before that he worked in New York. Tori was even rarely mentioned than her father was. All he knew was that she lived in the states and that she was going to college in the fall. Besides that, he knew squat.

"That's Victoria for you," Lestrade was saying, picking up the picture and studying it. "She's always finding an excuse to get out of work." Sighing, she replaced the picture.

"And what, pray tell, did she ask of you?" Holmes folded his hands in the traditional "tell-me-everything-I'm-listening" pose.

"She got a vacation instead of the yearly raise," Lestrade started. "All- expense paid trip to anywhere United States. Of course, she picked Hawaii. She can take four people to the islands." She sighed.

"Let me guess," Holmes interrupted. "She was here to ask you to accompany her to the San Juan Inter-Pacific Hotel and Spa in Honolulu, Hawaii. The brochure is under you're report." With the last remark, he reached over, gently brushed away the report, revealing the brightly colored pamphlet. The inspector nodded.

"I told her no way," she continued, eyeing the paper. "I have to do this report, and Grayson will kill me if I'm even an hour late. The problem with Tori is that she's still a kid; she doesn't have a good work ethic. You'd think that attending the best police academy in the US would have at least made her work harder."

"I must say," Watson spoke up, looking over the brochure. "This San Juan Hotel looks like a nice place to take a few days rest."

"You must be joking," Lestrade said, looking at the robot, who handed the paper to Holmes, who in turn looked it over.

"You have been complaining about work." The brunette shot the detective a dangerous look. "I'm just stating the obvious," Holmes added, tossing the pamphlet on the desk.

"You two sound just like my sister," the inspector growled. "Now, I called you here because of the report. I want to know if I got all of this down right..."

Outside

"Wretched weather," Tori mumbled, standing under the covered hoverbus stop. She had been there for about five minutes waiting for the blasted bus. Sighing, she plopped down on the bench, somewhat wet from the few stray drops that the covering didn't catch.
It wasn't that she was surprised that Liz turned down the offer. Anyone in their right mind would have jumped at the chance to get away from all the doom and gloom that was New London with their little sis. Yet Liz didn't. She had smiled and thanked her for the offer, but politely declined. Even after about five minutes of desperate persuasion her bulldog of a sister wouldn't budge. The sharp ring of her holophone (22nd century version of the cellphone) cut through her reassessment of Liz's reaction.
Flipping open the device, she spoke into it. "Hello? ... Hey there... Yep, she did, alright... Not really... It takes off about midnight... Right, not much time... I'll call later... bye." Groaning, Tori crossed her arms and pouted. How, in the name of all that is good, could she get Beth Lestrade to agree to go to Hawaii? Beth-the queen of burying herself in enough paperwork to write three, five-inch thick novels. The detective had to face the music: the only way Lestrade was gonna go anywhere was if she was drunk... Wait! While dialing the phone number on the phone, an idea was forming in the brunette's mind. It was a little risky, but it was well worth it. "Hello, J.T.? I have an idea."

Finally! It's finished! IT took me about a month, but it's done... the first chapter! ::sigh:: now it's time for the second chapter... ::pulls out a cooler with coca-cola:: it's gonna be a looong night. Please R&R!! I wanna know what you think!