He was sitting at his desk when she entered his office.
"Detective Lestrade?" She asked. Her voice was full of authority.
He looked up to find a beautiful, dark haired woman standing in front of his desk. She was dressed formally, but he noted the way her black skirt suit hugged her body. He cleared his throat and stood. "Yes?"
She smiled. "Ansley Holmes." She reached her hand out for him to shake it. Her eyes never leaving his.
"Ah." He said grabbing her hand. "How may I help you Mrs. Holmes?" He gestured for her to sit and resumed his position in his chair.
"Miss." She corrected, the corner of her mouth curling slightly. "I understand you've been harassed by my brother." A recent interview on serial suicides had resulted in Sherlock sending a series of text messages in order to prove to New Scotland Yard that he was needed in their investigation.
He nodded his head. "He seems to think he knows something more about these suicides than we do."
She crossed her legs, noting that the detective's gaze lingered on them. "That's because he does." She leaned forward, her shirt opening a bit at the top, showing her cleavage. She slid an envelope across the desk. "In this envelope you will find a letter instructing you to use Sherlock as you see fit in your investigation." The look on his face told her he was about to object. "No need to object, or go to your higher ups. This comes directly from the government, detective."
He placed his hand on the envelope, his fingers brushing hers before she released her hand and sat back. She watched as he opened and read the letter. He pulled out a card. "Business line?" He asked, clearing his throat again.
"We like to know he's looked after, Detective. Should you need anything, my personal line is on the back." She stood, straightening her skirt and jacket.
He nodded again, eyeing the curves of her. "Good day, Ms. Holmes."
She left his office, not turning to look back.