Author's note: This another one of those delightful ideas suggested to me by mrspencil. I only hope I did it justice. Thanks yet again.
I did not usually descend upon my husband's place of work, especially not when I knew he had been busy. The message from the doctor that had apparently sewn him up yesterday, however, was enough to lead me to make the trip down to Scotland Yard.
An Inspector Smith was kind enough to stop long enough to point me in the direction of my husband before continuing briskly on his way. I found Giles in the middle of a discussion with several people, or perhaps several different conversations with said men. He did not immediately notice my arrival.
I called his name as he turned and began to stride off; he spun about, caught sight of me, and managed not to frown. "Lizzie?" He asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Two of his companions demanded his attention, and he was not entirely successful in fighting back a sigh.
"Sit." He said, pointing. "There." He was off before I had a chance to open my mouth, leaving me alone in the busy station.
I sat down on the bench to wait for my husband. It seemed the better alternative to trying to dodge the people rushing around.
"Meet Inspector Lestrade." I started as I realized there was someone beside me, and that he was handcuffed to the arm of the bench.
He offered me a rather charming smile. "Nothing to worry about, ma'am." He assured me. "I may be a criminal, but I know to treat a lady proper. Besides, I'm not about to get in trouble with the law for harming a lady, even if I were so inclined."
"Oh?" I managed. The man nodded.
"That Lestrade, there, bad luck you had to pick him. There's no pity or kindness in the man. No give in him either. Can't bargain with him, can't reason with him, can't plea with him."
"And I'll tell you this," the man went on, warming to his subject, "there's no use in resisting arrest, he'll just shoot you without thinking twice about it. My partner now, I told him not to open fire, that the Inspector had a gun, but he just wouldn't listen to me. He's dead now, and I nearly went that way too, just for being there. Nasty piece of work, he is. Dangerous. You watch your step around him, ma'am."
I resisted the urge to smile at this criminal's apparent concern for my dealings with Inspector Lestrade. It was almost amusing.
The news that my husband had shot someone, on the other hand, was unsettling. I knew his job was dangerous, and I knew that he carried a gun, but the thought of him shooting someone had just never occurred to me, though it probably should have.
Behind us someone cleared his throat. The handcuffed man and I turned, and he went pale. Inspector Gregson stood behind us.
"Inspector." I greeted the man calmly. "My husband was busy and asked me to wait here." The man beside me turned, if it were possible, even whiter.
"I didn't touch her, Inspector, I swear!" He declared, his eyes wide. "You can tell her husband that too, I'm not-"
"He hasn't bothered me." I assured Mr. Gregson, cutting the panicking man off.
The Inspector looked somewhat relieved, but quickly hid it. "Perhaps you might be more comfortable waiting in my office, Mrs. Lestrade." He offered. "I will inform your husband of where you are."
"Excellent idea!" The man beside me added his opinion. The Inspector shot him a look, and he slouched despondently in his seat.
"Thank you." I said, standing. The Inspector led me through the busy station and to his office, where he left me sitting with a cup of tea.
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.