NOTE: I received some lovely feedback on the first snippet of this tale, so here's another tidbit to chew! I'm sorry if the chapters seem so short, I'm just cutting it off at where it seems appropriate. Enjoy!
A bell rang as I opened the door to Angelo's, to which I used to frequent with the late detective. Lestrade was waiting for me at one of the small wooden tables that were always covered with a red-and-white checkered table cloth, in his typical position with hands crammed into pockets and a tired look on his face. I think he was nodding off when I approached to say hello, forcing him to snap to attention and out of his semi-state of sleep.
"'ello, Watson! Long time no murder!" He laughed jokingly as he patted me on the back and gestured for me to sit down. "Ahem. Anyways, what'd you think?"
I was too busy staring at a particular table in the far corner, lost in thought, to hear him. I was remembering how Angelo raved about how fantastic Sherlock was whenever we came here, how he insisted we ate for free and that he cooked everything himself—but mostly, the constant mistaking us as a couple and placing a candle on our table for *unnecessary* romantic lighting.
"…Earth to Dr. Watson," Lestrade waved his hand in front of my face, taking his turn to startle me out of a stupor.
"…ah! I'm sorry, I was…thinking. What was it you were saying?" I blinked a few times, cleared my throat, and tried to focus on the head detective in front of me.
"I said, what'd you think? About the case, that is," he took a sip of water while he waited for me to answer.
"The case…? Oh, right! It's uhm…interesting. I mean, it seems more and more complicated than a regular ol' murder the more clues we find."
"Mm, yes, you're quite right. But we've seen so many odd cases that the term "regular ol' murder" has become rather infrequent and mundane when used. At times like these, I wish that Sherlock phony was the real deal. We could really use that crazy bloke's helping hand in this right now." Lestrade's tone was wistful; everyone knew he missed Sherlock too—but not as nearly as much as I. I took it harder than anyone.
"I wish…it's our anniversary, today, you know," I sighed matter-of-factly, phasing into my own mind palace.
Lestrade choked and coughed on the water he was drinking, turning into a spluttering mess. "Your WHAT?"
"Oh for God's sake, Lestrade, not you too! I meant the anniversary of the day Sherlock and I MET. Sometimes I swear all of you wish we were a couple, what with how many times people mistook us as one and all," I laughed a little.
Lestrade laughed nervously and glanced to the side. "Ahaha, yeah…So, how do you suppose we do this?"
"Think like Sherlock," I stated.
"But that's impossible for someone stupid like me," Lestrade mimicked sarcastically. "You're the closest we've got."
"True." And we both knew it was.
We thanked Angelo for his service (I tipped him generously, despite his protests) and walked back outside onto the sidewalk. It had begun a slight drizzle, clouds lightly hazing the sky. We hailed a cab and rode back to the police station. When we were nearly there (roughly a block away or so), I saw what I assumed was the Sherlock poser, with a throng of observe-ees gathered around him. Lestrade and I exchanged glances and rolled eyes simultaneously, asking the cabbie to pull over here.
Lestrade waited by the cab while I pushed my way through the mob to see what this loony was going on about. "Excuse me, excuse me, coming through," I spoke with my voice slightly raised so they could hear me. My thoughts wandered. "Sherlock would get a riot out of this if he were still-" Halfway through, I accidentally knocked a newspaper out of an older gentleman's hands, sending it splashing into a puddle that had begun to form in the pavement from the light rain. I heard a grunt of annoyance issue from the man's mouth.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" I apologized and leaned down to pick the paper up. The title read "The Return of Sherlock Holmes-Phony or the Real McCoy?" in big, black lettering. I stood up slowly while scanning the page, and looked up to where the elderly man had been standing. "You don't honestly believe this bunch of-" but the man was gone. I never even saw a glimpse of his face.