Chapter Two
It was warm. Too bloody warm. Gene could feel the sweat trickling down his back, how he longed to take his jacket off and feel some sort of breeze. The atmosphere wasn't helping either. It was never fun to stand on guard at political functions – ever. The safe return of Lady Georgina Anson, by that sodding git Holmes, was seemingly a cause for celebration and all of London had come out to show their gratitude and support for Mr. Holmes. Lestrade could have killed him. There he was like some poncy social butterfly in her first season, parading around the room like he owned it, his little lapdog running at his heels, all adoring eyes and quivering moustache. Well Lestrade had had about all he could take. He had just turned to go and find some nice quiet corner to go smoke a cigarette when the darling himself appeared at his elbow.
"All rather ridiculous really." Holmes muttered in that smooth voice of his, leaning on the doorframe and smiling at Lestrade. Gene merely grunted and crossed his arms, cigarette forgotten in the face of the enemy.
"Bet you love this." Gene muttered, refusing to look at the man. Holmes laughed gently.
"Yes, you would imagine a party in one's honour would go down rather well wouldn't you? As it is…" He trailed off and looked into the throng of people, his eyes unreadable. Gene glanced at him.
"You could disappear for a bit. I need a cigarette, bloody melting in ere, fancy one?" Gene cocked his head to the door and Holmes nodded. Together, united in misery; they walked out into he garden. Gene lit a cigarette and passed it to Holmes. He took it and nodded his thanks. They stared at each other for a minute, neither really knowing what to say.
"This should be for you." Holmes murmured, the smoke from his cigarette trailing around his head.
"Don't bloody start that with me, you got the girl back, you can take the sodding credit."
Holmes laughed and blew smoke into the cool air.
"Thank you Gene."
Gene nodded.
"My lot couldn't find a Christian in a church."
He stubbed out his cigarette on the stone wall in front of him.
"They do have their moments." Holmes said with a smile.
"Once a bloody century."
Holmes laughed again.
"Still wouldn't you like some sort of recognition?" Holmes was being persistent tonight and Gene was tired.
"When I do me job yeah. Don't pretend with me that you don't love all this Holmes. I've seen girls less desperate for attention."
"I like to be appreciated it's true." Holmes blew another ring of smoke in the air.
"That why you keep 'im around?" Gene nodded towards Dr Watson, busily chatting to three attractive girls.
"At first perhaps." Holmes agreed, "Now he's so much more than that."
Gene raised an eyebrow.
"Not trying to tell me something are ya?"
"Don't be so ridiculous Lestrade."
Gene smiled.
"Must be nice."
"What?"
"Having someone like that, someone you can rely on."
Gene sniffed and rocked on his heels. Emotion was never his strong point.
"You have that Gene." Holmes' voice drawled.
"I do?"
"You have me."
Holmes smiled and stubbed his cigarette out under his feet. Gene watched him go with distaste. He tapped his lapdog on the shoulder and they left to a round of applause.
"Good God." Gene muttered to himself.
"Bloody nerve." Ray Carling muttered from somewhere near Gene's elbow. Gene spun round.
"Listen you, as soon as you can do what he can do in his sleep I'll let you criticise, till then keep your trap shut!"
"Yes Guv." Ray shuffled his feet and looked at the floor. Gene loosened his collar.
"Lets get out of here, I'm bloody suffocating round all these nonces."
Ray nodded and together they left. The air was cool and it refreshed Gene's tired mind, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Was it true what Holmes had said? That he could rely on him? Gene shook his head and smiled, never in a million bloody years. Sherlock Holmes would have his own mother murdered so he'd have a case to solve, no, Gene decided, if he was looking for a comrade in arms, Holmes certainly wasn't it and as for that bloody doctor…