So, a large chunk of this story is already typed up. The problem is, I'm severely lacking in time to write the last two chapters. v . v

I will do my best to get to it. Until then, please feel free to comment on this lovely new chapter just for you!

...And now I'll go back to lesson planning...cause this is my life now.

"…and then she hung up on me. Which she had no right to do because it was my phone that she called me from!"

I heard a pause in the babbling next to me so I absentmindedly nodded to imply interest in Mal's speech. Not noticing my disinterest, Mal continued. "Well I have having none of that. So I went to her flat…"

I slowly tuned him out as I picked up the binoculars and gazed across the street to the building we were currently staking. Just as the previous 20 times I'd looked and just as the previous seven hours had shown, nothing fruitful was coming from this stakeout. If anything, Mal was causing me to slip into early insanity due to a gossip-induced rage. I sighed and lowered the binoculars yet again. Once more into the breach. Turning to my partner again, I wondered how long he could talk without taking a breath.

27 seconds later, I'd had enough. "I'm going to get more coffee," I interrupted and his tirade drew to a shuttered halt.

"Sure thing."

I got out of the car and briefly focused on the fresh air outside. Anything to get out of the car. I walked down the street and wondered to myself if Mal was still talking; if he'd forgotten I'd left and just continued venting. I allowed a smirk to grace my face as I entered the petrol station. I paid for my donut and slowly meandered my way back to my own personal hell, attempting to postpone the inevitable for as long as possible. As I took a bite of my donut, I was forced to sidestep a kid who was determinedly kicking a stone along the pavement.

Just as I had five years previously, I was forced to do a double take as a familiar shock of jet-black hair caught my interest. "Sherlock?"

The boy stopped mid-kick, shoulders tense. A split second later Sherlock whirled around, a mild and neutral expression on his face. "Constable Lestrade?"

Staring at his face, I briefly flashed back to the rainy day five years ago and the boy who had changed my career with just four sentences. "Actually, it's Detective Sergeant now."

A small smile was the result. "Congratulations. Was it the forensic analyst?"

"Don. Yes. Turns out that he and the victim were related, so technically you were right on both counts."

A slightly wider smile. "Yes, I thought so."

"Well thank you. Are you…have you wandered off again?"

"No Sergeant. I know exactly where I am and exactly where I'm supposed to be."

"Best be getting off then. I must return to my…car."

At this, Sherlock smirked. "Until next time Sergeant Lestrade." He turned, tucked his hands into his pockets and continued kicking his stone aimlessly down the street.

Shaking my head, I returned to the car.

"So I said to him, 'Sir,' I said, 'I can't believe you just said that.' I told him 'Sir, I might just have to report you.' And he just looked at me like he didn't think I would do it! So I did. I reported Reynolds to the Chief Superintendent and I'm waiting to see if anything comes from that…"

The kid was still gangly. He was going to grow into his shard features slowly. I could tell.

"What do you think? Shouldn't Reynolds be fired? I just can't believe he tried pulling rank in front of everyone like that…"

I looked at my watch. I looked at my watch again in confusion. It was a Tuesday. Midday. Why had Sherlock been walking down the street when he should have been in school? I glanced down the road but couldn't spot the young man among the small crowd of walking traffic. Curious. Being the police officer I am, I decided to investigate further.

Binoculars to my face should have reminded Mal that we had a job to do, even if we had just been sitting there for two days, but naturally nothing would deter him from talking about his upper level teams, dreams, and his grandmother down in Alabama. As I lowered the binoculars and checked my watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, Mal's voice bored into my brain.

"Grandmummy likes to talk about herself a lot. It's really hard to connect with her on any level."

I suddenly expelled a loud, long breath. "I'm going to go stretch my legs for a bit. I'll be back within the hour. Keep an eye on the flat. Don't forget."

"Right," and he picked up the binoculars with one hand, his mobile with the other.

Withholding my internal facepalm, I exited the car and slammed the door a little harder than maybe socially acceptable. I quickly walked to the same petrol station. I hung out in the back of the shop until I saw the ducked curly-hair-covered head trudge by. Allowing a minute to pass by, I followed Sherlock on his Wednesday midday walk. He aimlessly walked for about 35 minutes before he headed back to an exclusive private day-school and slipped through a side fence. I decided to call in a favor and ask my friend to look into when the school got out. 4:15. I could do that.

Nodding decisively, I headed wearily back to my job.

4:00 resulted in me standing at the fate to the school with a number of parents and nannies. Luckily, Sherlock happened to be one of the first out of the school doors. He immediately headed my way.

Smart kid. He spotted me right off.

"Fifth grade gets the earliest release because we move quicker than the younger children," he explained without provocation. I nodded. "Makes perfect sense."

He glanced past me to look at a set of benches. Taking his nonverbal cue, we headed over to sit and speak alone.

"I wondered how long it would take you. It surprised me that you didn't say anything yesterday."

"Yes well, in my defense, you do seem to act much older than your actual age." The resulting silence was thick. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," he responded immediately and sat up unconsciously as a group of three boys started walking our way. Eyes narrowed, I watched as Sherlock shrank into himself, attempting to make himself appear as small as possible. Of course, it doesn't always work that way.

"Hey Shirley!"

"Yeah, hey Shirley! How's your tongue?"

Sherlock snapped back, "It's fine! Why do you want to know?"

"Just figured you might need it to kiss up to the teachers arses. Wouldn't want it to go missing, now would we?"

My eyebrows rose and I stood up, the badge on my belt finally visible to the casual observer. "Are you children lost? Need help finding your parents?"

Eyes wide, the three boys scattered and I retook my seat next to the ten year old. Sherlock tucked his feet up onto the bench, knees under his chin.

"You didn't have to do that. You've just given them more ammunition to attack me with. I know it was unintentional, but think it through next time." If possible, Sherlock would have curled into a tighter, smaller ball.

"What class do you share with them?"

"Biology."

"But you're 10!"

"I'm a bit advanced."

Now there's an understatement if I'd ever heard one. I accepted the statement without comment.

"Do you want to know how to get them off your back?"

Sherlock merely turned his head to the side and looked at me from between his fingers. He looked nonplussed. "I'm sorry?"

"The bullies. There are ways to get them to bugger off if that's what you want."

At this, Sherlock raised his head. "Elaborate."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, you could learn to argue with them, tell a parent or teacher, or you could learn martial arts. Maybe as a last resort."

"Argue…"

"Well, I'm not advocating this…but what you did to me at the crime scene? It's off-putting. If you did it to them, not viciously mind you, just…observe. Maybe they'd be as shocked as I was and back off."

With his brow furrowed, I realized it was the first time I'd ever seen him have to work through something. "Thank you, Sergeant."

"Everyone calls me Lestrade."

"Well then, Lestrade, I appreciate your thoughts. I'll have to think on them."

"Well, if you need any help in the future-" I pulled out my business card and handed it to him. His small thin hands grabbed it and tucked it between his knees in his tiny ball. We lapsed into silence until I overheard a worried but not surprised, "Sherlock?"

Unfurling, Sherlock stood and straightened his shoulders. He stuck out his hand, "Thanks Lestrade."

Chuckling, I responded "I hope I helped. If not, let me know." We shook our goodbye and as we let go and turned to walk away he froze; a step I was coming to understand meant he had something difficult to say. I waited patiently. "The person you're looking for left the flat three days ago. He took the bus with one medium sized duffle tote to Heathrow."

I nodded.

"Figured the least I could do was get you out of the car."

"It's appreciated," I responded dryly.

He smirked and walked off. As the boy who had changed my career with four sentences five years prior walked toward his mother, I turned and rushed back to my car to head into the met. A felon skipping town. Much more interesting than a stakeout.

I seem to have received some pretty positive feedback about this story. Hope it continues in the same vein.

Happy latke flipping, my friends,

~Moldy