Hiya, everyone! So, I was about to just delete this story and give up when I saw 42 views, 4 reviews, 3 favourites and 7 follows! So, I was inspired to keep going, it really made my week and so now every week on a Tuesday I will update this story or start another. Also, we won't be seeing Sherlock in a while, but he will return, I promise. :) Enjoy.

chapter two

Her heart set aflutter, Summer turned her heel with a glint of determination in her gaze and began to continue her hurried, dreary walk to to the Scotland Yard office. Yet now, it wasn't so dreary. He had called her dull, yes at first, but then... Mr Holmes had seemed kind of approving expression after her deductions. A sort of a different expression most had given her... Perhaps this Sherlock fellow, perhaps he was a little different? It was a long shot, yes, but also a very hopeful one. Suddenly, the streets were not so grey and the sky not so dark and gloomy. And the rain didn't seem that bad. God, what was she thinking?! She had a job ahead of her! A future as a DI!

And with that, her lips twisted into a small frown as she pushed forth on the concrete path, the wind lashing at her wild hair that squirmed as it flowed behind her small frame. Her shoes crashed into puddles and soaked themselves in the rainwater and sent droplets flying in all directions until they gracefully dripped to the path.

The rest of the paces to Scotland Yard were of silenced thoughts and narrowed eyes. Mostly narrowed eyes because there was a small smudge on the left side of her glasses, but that's beside the point. As she halted at a large building with the supposedly correct address, she pulled out the papers from her jacket pocket and checked to make sure. Upon making sure that was building was, indeed, the Scotland Yard Office, she stepped forth, pushed open the doors and was welcomed with a warm yet busied reception.

Officers skittered about, some barking orders and others nodding obediently. Three receptionists sat at a reception desk on the far side of the room, two calmly speaking into phones and the other scribbling notes onto paper before typing up something on the PC in front of her. And on that .25 of a second upon entering that room, chaos ensued. Not real chaos, the chaos in Summer Dame's mind. Observations everywhere flickered beside the obvious evidence that was provided (the font she had set her observations to in her Mind Palace settings was New Times Roman size 12, if anyone wanted to know).

And with that, "observation mode" was turned off and the words faded to thin air, making the sight a little more visually pleasing but still quite amuck with rushed people. With an almost inaudible, nervous sigh, Summer approached the reception desk, her wet hair and clothing quietly dripping onto the navy carpet (which apparently stimulated flirtatious emotions because it reminded her of the handsome stranger's scarf, she noted) and glanced at the bronze-framed paintings that hung on the wall behind the desk.

There were two, both hand painted by the same artist, one of a majestic blue dragon with an ember-orange orb placed in its claws (contrasting with the carpet and the tiger lilies arranged neatly in a vase on the desk) and the other of a misty rainforest with small orange creatures but also sky blue ponds that sparkled in the sunlight that streamed through the emerald green leaves of the towering trees (contrasting with the lighter green of the wallpaper of the room and the light blue of the hyacinths which lay in the vase with the lilies.

"Where did you get these paintings? They're highly fanciful." She thought aloud, aiming her opinion at no one in particular. The woman furthest her right (she was the one who was now beginning to continue her note taking) rolled her eyes and called out loudly and in a very thick Northern London accent:

"Next!"

"R-right, right, hi. That's me." She slumped her shoulders a little and stepped forth a little more. "I don't have a case, I'm here for an interview. With uh... DI Lestrade? My name is Summer. Summer Dame." She kind of leaned forward over the marble raised countertop in an attempt to watch the obviously quick to judge woman.

"You're late, Miss Dame." She sneered up at her after a few moments of typing away at her computer.

"Yes. 26 minutes and 39 seconds late now can I please see Mr Lestrade?" She sighed impatiently and the lady just rolled her eyes once again and gestured to a shiny silver elevator to her right.

"Floor 4, ask someone for Greg and they'll show you to 'em." She responded grouchily before returning her attention to her computer.

"Great." Summer finally broke a smile and eyed the pink clothed right shoulder of the woman and chuckled. "Sorry, but I hope you get your bird back." Leaving the receptionist gawping, she turned to her left, strode to the metal doors and hit the glowing button before disappearing into the machine.

The wait was dreadful. Standing uneasily in the elevator, Summer shuffled through the papers which had been stuffed into the pockets of her tan jacket and went through her answers to each and every printed box filled with her very small, very neat writing. Though it only took her a few seconds, it felt like forever. She'd been training for years for this job and would love to take it in London. It was such a beautiful place. So many people, so much knowledge and mystery.

The whirring of the elevator halted with a heavy, metallic clank and an innocent "ding!" She quickly smoothed navy top and darkened jeans, wrung out the ends of her jacket and tapped her vans against the hard floor of the elevator as rainwater dripped from them, leaving small puddles. The doors flew open with a small screech and two officers ushered her out before practically punching the glowing down button and then the "G" one before disappearing behind shiny doors.

Shyly spinning around to face the bustling office, she narrowed down the most intelligent and the most helpful. Two completely different groups of people. But, she managed to find a young lady who had a history of children aid and an IQ of 158, which was acceptable. Summer quickly approached the woman, who was seated nearby and quietly going over a case with a stubby man in a suit. She wore a white cardigan with a grey pencil skirt and blonde hair placed in a neat bun. Not exactly akin to Summer's own "style", yet she seemed acceptably... nice.

"Hi, um, I'm in a bit of a rush to get to an interview but would you mind showing me to where DI Greg might possibly be?" She spoke quickly and to the point and the lady nodded.

"Certainly. Detective Inspector Lestrade ought to be just over... There. That's his office." She rose out of her chair to point to an isolated room to the right area of the office.

"Thanks." Summer nodded and spun to her right and quickly made her way over to the room. She halted at the door, inhaled deeply and knocked on the wood.

The man who answered was really not quite what she expected. Average height, a little over average weight and munching heartily on a donut.

"I told you, Donavan, it's not our-" he stopped for a moment, glancing her up and down. "Who're you?"

"Summer, sir. Summer Dame? I came here for the interview but I'm really late." She sighed, shaking her head and her ponytail of hair flowed along with it and dripping onto the floor.

"Ah. Well, if this were a case you'd be off the job!" He shook his donut at her before shoving it into his empty coffee mug, but Summer soon realised he had forgotten himself. "Come on in, then. And please, Greg's fine."

Summer wandered in and shut the door behind her.

The interview, despite everything building up to it, went well. She found herself nodding in all the right places and pointing to certain filled-in boxes on her forms and some signatures for references and as the meeting came to an end, her mind flickered back to Mr Holmes.

"Also," she added before she was about to head off into the deep, dark London night. "I met a man on my way here. Sherlock Holmes, was it? Said something about my deductions and something about personally recommending me. It was a little odd but..."

The Detective Inspector rose his eyebrows as he sorted the papers in his hands. But before he could say a thing, on perfect cue, a lady burst into the office with frizzy hair and a frown that could kill.

"The Freak? Recommending someone? God, that's low. Even for him." The lady managed to sneer despite her loss of breath.

"Donovan... You better have a good reason t-" Lestrade began, but the lady cut in.

"It's the Freak, though. He's got a lead on the Lone Thief case. We need to go. Now! Get backup." She barked orders furiously, as if she were a mad pit bull in charge.

Greg rose from his seat and grasped his coat before throwing it over his shoulder and whipping out his phone.

"Sorry, Summer, we'll chat more later, yeah? Thanks for coming." Were the last words she heard of him as he sped out the door with that Donovan woman by his side, leaving Summer standing in the DI's office; alone and stunned.

Now that was a bit of a boring chapter, wasn't it? But don't worry, things are about to get a lot more interesting... Thanks for reading, leave a review! They make my day :)

-PartnersInEverythingButCrime