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~