a/n; One year after "The Reichenbach Fall", John Watson moves out of Baker Street.
For Inspector Lestrade, work continues...
Sherlock and companions do not belong to me.
Moving On 4
A mug of strong coffee,
His fifth of the day;
The thud of a headache
Determined to stay;
A paperwork mountain
Which grew as he stared;
Crime files to be studied
Reports to be shared.
The day to day
Dull,
Time consuming routine
Which followed each case he took on,
Each crime scene.
Ten hours since the start of his shift,
All desk bound.
He stretched, felt his muscles protest,
His head pound.
~0~
"I'm bored", were the words which were
Running around in his head;
He paused as he thought of another
Who spoke them instead.
A deeper pitched tone;
An insistent, familiar refrain;
That voice...he'd give all that it took
Just to hear it again.
To stand at the scene of a murder,
Assailant unknown,
And reach that unique expertise
At the end of a phone.
To gamely defend the strange quirks
Of his singular friend;
And give him the space to persist
With a task to the end.
~0~
One swirl of that coat
Guaranteed that the atmosphere changed,
As insults and barbed observations
Were freely exchanged.
Consulting detective ahead
The good doctor behind;
And a privileged chance to inspire
That impossible mind...
~0~
As he thought of their cases together,
He almost half-smiled;
His coffee was cold and untouched,
His last papers unfiled.
He blinked,
And returned to his work;
Leaving Sherlock and John.
~0~
Detective Inspector Lestrade,
Trying hard to move on.
~0~
