Chapter 2
Beth Lestrade marched down the corridors of New Scotland Yard, her stride sure and steady, hiding the tumult she was feeling inside. However, it would be put to rights with this visit to an old friend with information that might be considered evidence for a case he was working on. She felt her lips curve into a vindictive smile. It was for moments like this that she loved this job. That incredible sense of accomplishment when you knew you had something to go on.
Her purposeful stride soon brought her before the office she wanted. James Gregson's. She knocked, and without waiting for an answer, walked inside. And almost walked right back out. The place was filthy, with papers and electronic devices laying everywhere, not to mention the empty food containers. That wasn't as bad as the smell, though, that someone had tried to mask with an air-freshener, which obviously wasn't working.
The man she was looking for hadn't even noticed her knock or her entrance, he was so entranced in the data pad in his hands. Then he threw it down with an angry expletitive and leaned back in the chair, running his hands through his hair agitatedly. He noticed her then and blinked in surprise before grinning wolfishly.
"Well hello there Beth, changed your mind have you?"
Lestrade snorted. "Hardly. I told you, you just aren't my type James." She waved a hand to the disorder of the room. "You're too messy..."
He affected a hurt look and placed his hands over his heart. "You wound me fair Elizabeth, I shall pine forever!" He sat forward in his chair then. "If it wasn't to make my dreams come true, then what brings you to my dungeon?"
She set the air-tight and waterproof container amidst the clutter on Gregson's desk. He frowned at her and opened his mouth to speak, but she gestured for him to open it with a smug smile. He shrugged and did so, then extracted the piece of paper that was inside. He carefully unfolded it and looked it over. As he read, his eyes grew wide, and he became excited.
"Do you know what this is?" he questioned. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "This...this could be the break I've been looking for. If it's genuine. Where'd you get it?"
Lestrade frowned and shook her head. "Does it matter?"
Gregson gave her a sharp look. "It might...I've got to get someone down to the river in any case, to see if they can find anything there..."
"I'll do it. I don't have any other cases, and I'm sure Greyson'll give the okay," she volunteered, careful to keep the hopeful desparation she was feeling out of her voice.
As she had thought, he immediately took her up on the offer. "Great! Let me get you clearance and we're all set." He grinned again. "You do know you'll be undercover right? Can't have them thinking we're on to them.
*************************************************
Holmes stood on the bank of the river Thames, just out of sight of the removal crew leaving the mangled boat for the evening. He snorted. For a time so sophisticated and so much more technologically more advanced than his own, they had an awefully hard time cleaning up such simple matters as boat crashes. Not that he wasn't grateful. After all, if they had been just a little faster, he wouldn't have this chance to sneak aboard. Soon, all but one of the crew he had seen come in that morning had left. Not long now.
He frowned as the last worker did not appear. Moving carefully closer, he peered inside the boat where a shadowy figure was moving about, an electronic device in its hand. Looking around for a way inside without alerting his presence to the other, Holmes edged around to the side of the barge. He smiled and crawled into the hole that was just wide enough for him to fit through, but far enough away from the other person.
He lifted his cane and depressed the button on the side, making the false wood elongate into a staff. Then, he made his way to where he had seen the figure. Catching sight of it, he tossed the can with a deft flick of his wrist, tripping the other person, who landed hard. Holmes walked closer, watching the other's movements.
"I must warn you, I am trained in martial arts," he called out.
The figure, who had been struggling to get to their feet, slumped to the ground again with a groan. "Holmes! What are you doing here?"
He started in surprise. "Lestrade? I could ask the same question of you." He walked over and offered a hand up.
Lestrade sat up and glared at him, obviously annoyed, but she took the proffered hand anyway. "I'm looking for evidence on a case I've been given. Now, your turn."
"Same here..." He stopped speaking as the boat creaked ominously. "I suggest we head somewhere else to discuss this, however. I trust you found something? Good." Without waiting to see if she'd follow, he turned and walked out.
Fifteen minutes later, they sat at Lestrade's kitchen table. She had changed back into her uniform, and had already sent the data she had retrieved on the boat to the Yard. "You have no idea how glad I am to get out of that smelly thing," she said, refering to the removal crew uniform, "I don't see how anybody can stand that? Now, what case are you working on?"
He told her everything that had occurred the day before, and raised his eyebrow when he finished. She looked very angry. "I take it this most certainly has to do with your case as well?"
"That's stating the obvious Holmes," she quipped. Then she stood up and started pacing. Not a good sign. "There is someone in this city who's peddling babies. Yes, actual babies. They find poor unwed or even wed mothers who think they need the cash more than their children, or who hope that their babies will go to a better home than they could ever provide and offer them lots of money." She stopped and took a breath, while Holmes waited patiently. "Then, they take the babies and sell them to couples who can't have children. Yes, that's still a problem in the 22nd century." She seemed almost defiant.
"How do you know this?" Holmes questioned.
"We've had the young mothers confess. Unfortunately, it was off the record. And they refused to say a word in court. Not that they could tell us who was behind it; only the couples who adopt ever deal directly with the man or woman."
"And of course they won't talk either, for fear of legal reprisal. Mrs. Stanhope was one of these young mothers?"
Lestrade looked at him in surprise. "How? Never mind. Yeah, she was. But she tried to give the money back to get her child back. That's why she was murdered."
Holmes started to speak, but the chiming of the vidphone interrupted him. It was a man he hadn't seen before, though judging from the filthy uniform he wore he was from the Yard.
"Beth, nothing on the boat. You must be Holmes. Great! Can you two come down here right away? We've just got something. Gregson out." The vidphone went black.
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Someone as abrupt as you when talking to someone."
"Whatever you do, don't mention the similarity please?"
"Hmm.."
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Beth Lestrade marched down the corridors of New Scotland Yard, her stride sure and steady, hiding the tumult she was feeling inside. However, it would be put to rights with this visit to an old friend with information that might be considered evidence for a case he was working on. She felt her lips curve into a vindictive smile. It was for moments like this that she loved this job. That incredible sense of accomplishment when you knew you had something to go on.
Her purposeful stride soon brought her before the office she wanted. James Gregson's. She knocked, and without waiting for an answer, walked inside. And almost walked right back out. The place was filthy, with papers and electronic devices laying everywhere, not to mention the empty food containers. That wasn't as bad as the smell, though, that someone had tried to mask with an air-freshener, which obviously wasn't working.
The man she was looking for hadn't even noticed her knock or her entrance, he was so entranced in the data pad in his hands. Then he threw it down with an angry expletitive and leaned back in the chair, running his hands through his hair agitatedly. He noticed her then and blinked in surprise before grinning wolfishly.
"Well hello there Beth, changed your mind have you?"
Lestrade snorted. "Hardly. I told you, you just aren't my type James." She waved a hand to the disorder of the room. "You're too messy..."
He affected a hurt look and placed his hands over his heart. "You wound me fair Elizabeth, I shall pine forever!" He sat forward in his chair then. "If it wasn't to make my dreams come true, then what brings you to my dungeon?"
She set the air-tight and waterproof container amidst the clutter on Gregson's desk. He frowned at her and opened his mouth to speak, but she gestured for him to open it with a smug smile. He shrugged and did so, then extracted the piece of paper that was inside. He carefully unfolded it and looked it over. As he read, his eyes grew wide, and he became excited.
"Do you know what this is?" he questioned. Without waiting for a response, he continued, "This...this could be the break I've been looking for. If it's genuine. Where'd you get it?"
Lestrade frowned and shook her head. "Does it matter?"
Gregson gave her a sharp look. "It might...I've got to get someone down to the river in any case, to see if they can find anything there..."
"I'll do it. I don't have any other cases, and I'm sure Greyson'll give the okay," she volunteered, careful to keep the hopeful desparation she was feeling out of her voice.
As she had thought, he immediately took her up on the offer. "Great! Let me get you clearance and we're all set." He grinned again. "You do know you'll be undercover right? Can't have them thinking we're on to them.
*************************************************
Holmes stood on the bank of the river Thames, just out of sight of the removal crew leaving the mangled boat for the evening. He snorted. For a time so sophisticated and so much more technologically more advanced than his own, they had an awefully hard time cleaning up such simple matters as boat crashes. Not that he wasn't grateful. After all, if they had been just a little faster, he wouldn't have this chance to sneak aboard. Soon, all but one of the crew he had seen come in that morning had left. Not long now.
He frowned as the last worker did not appear. Moving carefully closer, he peered inside the boat where a shadowy figure was moving about, an electronic device in its hand. Looking around for a way inside without alerting his presence to the other, Holmes edged around to the side of the barge. He smiled and crawled into the hole that was just wide enough for him to fit through, but far enough away from the other person.
He lifted his cane and depressed the button on the side, making the false wood elongate into a staff. Then, he made his way to where he had seen the figure. Catching sight of it, he tossed the can with a deft flick of his wrist, tripping the other person, who landed hard. Holmes walked closer, watching the other's movements.
"I must warn you, I am trained in martial arts," he called out.
The figure, who had been struggling to get to their feet, slumped to the ground again with a groan. "Holmes! What are you doing here?"
He started in surprise. "Lestrade? I could ask the same question of you." He walked over and offered a hand up.
Lestrade sat up and glared at him, obviously annoyed, but she took the proffered hand anyway. "I'm looking for evidence on a case I've been given. Now, your turn."
"Same here..." He stopped speaking as the boat creaked ominously. "I suggest we head somewhere else to discuss this, however. I trust you found something? Good." Without waiting to see if she'd follow, he turned and walked out.
Fifteen minutes later, they sat at Lestrade's kitchen table. She had changed back into her uniform, and had already sent the data she had retrieved on the boat to the Yard. "You have no idea how glad I am to get out of that smelly thing," she said, refering to the removal crew uniform, "I don't see how anybody can stand that? Now, what case are you working on?"
He told her everything that had occurred the day before, and raised his eyebrow when he finished. She looked very angry. "I take it this most certainly has to do with your case as well?"
"That's stating the obvious Holmes," she quipped. Then she stood up and started pacing. Not a good sign. "There is someone in this city who's peddling babies. Yes, actual babies. They find poor unwed or even wed mothers who think they need the cash more than their children, or who hope that their babies will go to a better home than they could ever provide and offer them lots of money." She stopped and took a breath, while Holmes waited patiently. "Then, they take the babies and sell them to couples who can't have children. Yes, that's still a problem in the 22nd century." She seemed almost defiant.
"How do you know this?" Holmes questioned.
"We've had the young mothers confess. Unfortunately, it was off the record. And they refused to say a word in court. Not that they could tell us who was behind it; only the couples who adopt ever deal directly with the man or woman."
"And of course they won't talk either, for fear of legal reprisal. Mrs. Stanhope was one of these young mothers?"
Lestrade looked at him in surprise. "How? Never mind. Yeah, she was. But she tried to give the money back to get her child back. That's why she was murdered."
Holmes started to speak, but the chiming of the vidphone interrupted him. It was a man he hadn't seen before, though judging from the filthy uniform he wore he was from the Yard.
"Beth, nothing on the boat. You must be Holmes. Great! Can you two come down here right away? We've just got something. Gregson out." The vidphone went black.
Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Someone as abrupt as you when talking to someone."
"Whatever you do, don't mention the similarity please?"
"Hmm.."
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Go back to 1
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