I thought it might be a good idea to add a disclaimer. BBC's Sherlock is owned by (shock horror) the BBC and this is in no way written for profit.
DI Dimmock P.O.V
You'v got to be kidding me. You've seriously got to be bloody kidding me. I could be at home with my wife putting up the Christmas lights. Not standing around a crime scene in the bloody cold. Rubbing my hands together to starve of the frostbite, I storm up to the yellow tape to talk to Lestrade.
"What am I doing here Lestrade. This isn't even my derestriction.."
I notice from the look on Lestrade's face that I probably said that a little to sharply, and that isn't going to help me here. I let out a tired sigh and rub my eyes with my finger tips.
"All I mean is I could be at home with my pregnant wife at the moment" I shot Lestrade a pleading look, hoping for a little sympathy. Obviously I must of struck a chord because he softened up a bit and led me away from Donavon, who was shooting me acid like glares. Well, if looks could kill …
"Trust me Dimmock, I understand. But with all of these little constant burglaries my hands have been a little full. And now it seems they've started killing. " Lestrade looks just a worn as I did.
"But I still don't see what this has got to do with me." My fingers had started taking on a bluish tone and I could no long feel them in the cold. I wish it would hurry up and snow already, its just been sitting there letting the tempretures get colder and colder.. And I was getting frustrated.
Lestrade looked me up and down like I was an unfortunate wine stain on his carpet, then turn and his heel and took a few strides away from me. "You were the leading DI on the Blind Banker case. We have a thief and now murder who is striking whenever they feel like it, stealing whatever they want, and now shooting the occupants of whichever space that has been robbed. No one saw anybody suspicious enter or leave this or any of the other houses and all the windows and doors were bolted shut from the inside. The only difference between this case and yours is that nothing was stolen from those crime scenes and the killer hadn't decided to sprinkle glittery black stars all over the joint. "
I give Lestrade a few moments to calm alittle from his rant before I say quietly, "You know I had Holmes in on that case".
" Yes I know that, but I just need alittle insight into these cases and I'm running out of options. And I really do NOT have the head space to deal with Sherlock at the moment."
I give it a moment's thought before saying just as softly, "Sherlock said the assassin was a climber. Look for any small windows somebody petite could get through. Now, if I call Mr Holmes in the morning and let him in on the case, can I please return home?" I thought I'd be kind, it wasn't worth both of us being pissed off right before Christmas. Lestrade flashed me a grin that had a few too many teeth in it.
"Sure you can go now DI Dimmock, but you'll regret letting Sherlock Holmes in on this case."
I stomp away from the crime scene as the first unexpectently late first snow of the season started to fall , knowing my time had been wasted. I glanced around angrily, looking for my car. I get in and slam the door shut. I hope DI Lestrade heard that and I cranked up the heater in my car. I sat there for a moment pondering, then I sudden realization hit me. I venomously swore at Lestrade and almost thought of smashing my head into the steering wheel a few times. I jammed my key into the ignition and tore away from the scene and the flashing blue and red lights of the police cars. Lestrade was bloody right. Getting Sherlock involved in this is going to be a damn bloody nightmare