February 2009
The rain drops tapped at the window. DI Genevieve Lestrade loved the rain. She loved walking in the rain and she almost never used an umbrella. Everything seemed a lot better with raindrops on your eye lashes! She liked the cold smell of the rain, of the wet grass… While watching her reflection in the window of her office at the New Scotland Yard, she recalled a little poem that her sister e-mailed her a few hours ago. Everybody wants happiness, nobody wants pain, but you cannot have a rainbow, without a little rain! She smiled melancholically.
Today her divorce has been finalized. After eight years her marriage was over. She couldn't say that she wasn't expecting it, or that she was devastated.
Her husband was cheating on her repeatedly, something that she knew from the beginning. She loved him but not with passion, more likely because they had been a couple since the age of twenty four. She loved him because after ten years, it had become a routine. And now at the age of thirty-four she was on her own. She felt disappointed. She had given herself completely to that man, she trusted him and helped him and in return he betrayed her in such a way. But no matter! She would be just fine. She had a job she loved, friends that supported her and a mother, who was yelling at her over the phone for not giving Claude a second chance.
''You are being unreasonable, Genevieve. Just because he did it once doesn't mean that he doesn't love or care about you!''
''Mother, it wasn't just once! It happened ten times! I'm sick of being his little stupid housewife! I'm a Detective Inspector damn it! I've arrested murderers and drug dealers! I'm not going to accept my husband's easy virtue any longer!''
''Mon Dieu! First your sister and now you! This is your father's fault! His and those ideas that he planted in both of your minds! That you will always be able to do things on your own, without a husband and someone to take care of you!''
''You should be proud of me, Sophie and the way we cope! Goodbye mother, I'm going back to bed!''
That phone call occurred yesterday morning at 6 o'clock. Jenny loved her mother with all her heart. But sometimes she was so narrow-minded! She didn't blame her though. She wanted what was best for her daughters.
But she wasn't going give the man who trampled on her pride a second chance.
''Anyway, it could be worse.'', Jenny thought and sighed, ''At least I'm not like this guy''. She turned her head and examined the man who was sitting in her office chair, with her brown eyes.
He was four, maybe five years younger than her and high as a kite. He was extremely pale, with dark circles under his eyes and his dark brown hair were messy and wet from the rain. She had seen junkies before and every time she thought the same thing. ''Why?''
''Why kids do that to themselves? Why do they want to end up dead at a dark alley or on a park bench, with a needle in their arms as their last memory?''
She looked at the man, again. His coat and clothes were expensive and his shoes, although muddy, were Gucci. She herself was not that into brands and expensive wear, that was more of her sister's characteristic, but she could definitely understand that this man was rich.
''So, you do drugs out of sheer boredom or you use them as a form of escapism?'', she said.
The man looked at her with a smug grin.
''Both'', he said in his baritone voice. ''You do know that it was the sister and not the cousin detective? Of course you do! You are smarter than those imbeciles, but not as smart as me. You almost missed the murderer, thank god I was there on time!
''Well, thank god for you that I didn't blame you for the murder as the other officers did. That saved me a hell of a lot paperwork.''
''As I said... imbeciles! And now I can depart. Thanks for the interesting case. It was very stimulating!''
He tried to get up, but his legs couldn't hold him. He fell on the couch with a big thud. Jenny sighed and got up. She opened the small fridge that was placed in the corner of the room and took a bottle of water.
''Drink up! You are extremely dehydrated.''
The man took the bottle obediently and opened it. He drank the water within seconds. Jenny gave him another one and after four bottles of water he looked better than before. He closed his eyes in bliss.
Jenny sat at the chair opposite him and observed. He looked so peaceful like a little baby. ''Oh bugger!'', she thought as her motherly instincts kicked in. She couldn't live him alone, he was going to kill himself the moment he walked out of her office. There was only one option.
''What's your name?'', she said quietly.
''Sherlock Holmes. Age thirty. And before you ask, no I don't have a place to stay. I was kicked out by my landlord because I blew up his kitchen with one of my experiments.'', Sherlock said and laughed quietly.
''What do you do for a living.''
Sherlock opened his eyes and stood up.
''I don't have a job. May I please leave now?''
Jenny looked at him carefully. He was very beautiful. High cheekbones, nice nose, curly hair, pale skin, long neck which had three bruises, more like love bites. ''Probably from one night stand'', she thought. ''If he had a partner he wouldn't be homeless.''
His best feature though was his eyes. They were cat-like and grey or blue? Maybe both, depending on the light.
''You don't have a job, yet your clothes are really expensive. You perform experiments that can blow up a room. You clearly have equipment and a degree in chemistry.''
Sherlock arched an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes.
''Most of the criminals you arrest can use flammable liquids and they don't have a degree.'', he said.
''Yes, but they don't use words as 'flammable' and 'liquid'. And practically, you've just confirmed my suspicions!
Sherlock curled his lips and Jenny thought he saw a smile on those full lips. He sat again and slowly crossed his arms and legs.
''Go on.'', he said with a lingering voice.
''You are rich. Very rich actually judging by your clothes. They are quite new and your shoes are Gucci. You don't care if they are muddy or torn. If you were a working class man who just bought them with his savings, you wouldn't treat your own item of luxury like that.''
''Very good, Inspector! Please… continue! I love watching your mind work! What else can you deduce about me!'', said in that baritone voice of his while a smirk appeared once again on his face.
He was clearly enjoying the whole situation. Jenny decided not to be intimidated by his sarcastic tone and continued.
''Your name is quite old, Victorian. So I'll take a wild guess and say that your family is old, with history and money. That's pretty much what I can say about you. But what I want is something else. You have a high I.Q. level. You solved the murder in a matter of seconds. My point is that we need people like you. So, I have a proposition to make.''
Sherlock was listening carefully and was intrigued. ''That DI is smarter than I thought...good!'', he thought.
''I am listening.''
''I'm going to talk to my superiors about you and your abilities. If I can manage it, the Yard will hire you, unofficially of course, for your help in difficult cases. We can also give you a salary. But in return you will have to enter a rehab program and stay clean. Understood?''
After a minute of consideration Sherlock smiled and answered positively.
''Good!'', said Lestrade and clapped her hands. ''So Sherlock Holmes my name is Genevieve Lestrade. Call me Jenny. It's easier and I hate the sound of it, when people who can't speak French pronounce it.''
''I speak French fluently, but I prefer to call you Lestrade.''
''Suit yourself. I can provide you with a room at my house for tonight and as long as it takes for you to get clean and find a place to live. What do you think?''
Sherlock's grey eyes met hers and once again he smiled.
''Lestrade, I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!''