The airport was crowded. Ridiculously so. But, Beth Lestrade wove her
way through the hordes of faceless people with a sureness that implied that
she was a) an experienced traveler or b) lived in a big city and was
accustomed to seeing this many people stuffed into tiny quarters.
She arrived at her departure terminal with too much time to spare. Indifferently, she sunk into a plastic chair, drawing her legs up underneath her and resting her chin on top of the ratty black knapsack that made up the entirety of her luggage. The minutes wore by, and she swore she could feel her hair turning grey. Finally, just as she was about to start losing hair, the stewardess announced that they would begin boarding.
Twenty minutes later, Lestrade sat down in yet another uncomfortable chair. This time squashed between two others. Before she could make a futile attempt to get comfortable, a girl, a few years younger then her, appeared in the aisle beside her. "Um." she bit her bottom lip, looking shyly at Lestrade through long brown bangs.
"Yeah, sorry." Lestrade slipped out of her chair and into the aisle, letting the girl squish through to her (window!) seat.
The girl gave her a quick grin before taking out a book (!) and engrossing herself in what appeared to be 'The Simarilion'. Lestrade raised an eyebrow (that was a hard book to come by! And she should know!) as she slipped back into her seat. Boredom ensued.
A bald guy, with multiple piercing in his left ear, plunked down on her other side just as the stewardesses were retreating after checking the luggage compartments. (Missing the one above Lestrade and her Darwin reading companion.)
Lestrade didn't spare him a glance. Until the title 'Canterbury Tales' flashed in her peripheral vision. She slowly raised her head. This man, who couldn't have been much older then her, and looked for all the world like the boys her mother used to point out and warn her about, (Drug dealers and worthless the lot of them. Don't get mixing up with them Beth. It won't do you any good, and you can use all the help you can get.) was engrossed in a century old classic. Another that was_very_hard to come by. And once again, she should know!
Raising her other eyebrow, Lestrade sifted through the contents of her pack. there had to be something in here to read. She smiled as her hand closed around a Xeroxed copy of one of Watson's journals. She didn't like bringing the originals traveling for obvious reasons.
Mark looked over the rim of 'Canterbury Tales' in surprise. The woman beside him was reading Sherlock Holmes! (What he would give for a copy of the late Dr. Watson's journals.) And here he had taken her for some techie twink. He raised a pierced eyebrow.
***
Lestrade stretched her back and dropped her pack into a blue plastic chair of the New London airport. Holmes and Watson had e-mailed to say they'd be by in about five minutes. This was a welcome surprise as she was way too tired (!) to drive.
A slight tap on her shoulder startled her in mid stretch and she turned quickly, expecting to see a grinning blonde detective. To her surprise, she found her airplane companions standing before her.
"Erm. I was wondering," The bald man cleared his throat. "How much would you like for your book?"
"Eh? Book? Oh! Watson's.oh." Lestrade frowned. "Well, it's a family heirloom. kind of. um."
"Here." The girl pushed The Silmarilion at her before Lestrade had the chance to gather her thoughts.
"But that's Tolkien! That's extremely hard to come by!"
"So is Sherlock Holmes!"
"Oh. I never thought of that. it's always been right there." Lestrade rambled off. She hated to part from anything remotely Holmes related, but she_could_have another copy made. Heck, she could just ask Holmes!
"Yeah, sure. I guess." Lestrade dug out the journal and handed it over, biting her bottom lip as she did so. Sighing, she put Tolkien away in her backpack, pausing to admire the crinkled paper cover.
"Thank you SO MUCH!" The girl threw herself at the unsuspecting Inspector, hugging her fiercely.
"Eh."
Smiling, the two quickly said their goodbyes and walked off, arm in arm.
Lestrade blinked.
"Who are they?"
Lestrade whirled around again, encountered, this time by the afore mentioned detective and, of course, Watson.
"Eh, a couple of fans. I think."
"Of who?"
"You."
"Oh not again."
Lestrade winked at Watson over Holmes' shoulder. "Yeah, the girl seemed_really_interested in you."
"I'm glad to see you too, Lestrade."
She arrived at her departure terminal with too much time to spare. Indifferently, she sunk into a plastic chair, drawing her legs up underneath her and resting her chin on top of the ratty black knapsack that made up the entirety of her luggage. The minutes wore by, and she swore she could feel her hair turning grey. Finally, just as she was about to start losing hair, the stewardess announced that they would begin boarding.
Twenty minutes later, Lestrade sat down in yet another uncomfortable chair. This time squashed between two others. Before she could make a futile attempt to get comfortable, a girl, a few years younger then her, appeared in the aisle beside her. "Um." she bit her bottom lip, looking shyly at Lestrade through long brown bangs.
"Yeah, sorry." Lestrade slipped out of her chair and into the aisle, letting the girl squish through to her (window!) seat.
The girl gave her a quick grin before taking out a book (!) and engrossing herself in what appeared to be 'The Simarilion'. Lestrade raised an eyebrow (that was a hard book to come by! And she should know!) as she slipped back into her seat. Boredom ensued.
A bald guy, with multiple piercing in his left ear, plunked down on her other side just as the stewardesses were retreating after checking the luggage compartments. (Missing the one above Lestrade and her Darwin reading companion.)
Lestrade didn't spare him a glance. Until the title 'Canterbury Tales' flashed in her peripheral vision. She slowly raised her head. This man, who couldn't have been much older then her, and looked for all the world like the boys her mother used to point out and warn her about, (Drug dealers and worthless the lot of them. Don't get mixing up with them Beth. It won't do you any good, and you can use all the help you can get.) was engrossed in a century old classic. Another that was_very_hard to come by. And once again, she should know!
Raising her other eyebrow, Lestrade sifted through the contents of her pack. there had to be something in here to read. She smiled as her hand closed around a Xeroxed copy of one of Watson's journals. She didn't like bringing the originals traveling for obvious reasons.
Mark looked over the rim of 'Canterbury Tales' in surprise. The woman beside him was reading Sherlock Holmes! (What he would give for a copy of the late Dr. Watson's journals.) And here he had taken her for some techie twink. He raised a pierced eyebrow.
***
Lestrade stretched her back and dropped her pack into a blue plastic chair of the New London airport. Holmes and Watson had e-mailed to say they'd be by in about five minutes. This was a welcome surprise as she was way too tired (!) to drive.
A slight tap on her shoulder startled her in mid stretch and she turned quickly, expecting to see a grinning blonde detective. To her surprise, she found her airplane companions standing before her.
"Erm. I was wondering," The bald man cleared his throat. "How much would you like for your book?"
"Eh? Book? Oh! Watson's.oh." Lestrade frowned. "Well, it's a family heirloom. kind of. um."
"Here." The girl pushed The Silmarilion at her before Lestrade had the chance to gather her thoughts.
"But that's Tolkien! That's extremely hard to come by!"
"So is Sherlock Holmes!"
"Oh. I never thought of that. it's always been right there." Lestrade rambled off. She hated to part from anything remotely Holmes related, but she_could_have another copy made. Heck, she could just ask Holmes!
"Yeah, sure. I guess." Lestrade dug out the journal and handed it over, biting her bottom lip as she did so. Sighing, she put Tolkien away in her backpack, pausing to admire the crinkled paper cover.
"Thank you SO MUCH!" The girl threw herself at the unsuspecting Inspector, hugging her fiercely.
"Eh."
Smiling, the two quickly said their goodbyes and walked off, arm in arm.
Lestrade blinked.
"Who are they?"
Lestrade whirled around again, encountered, this time by the afore mentioned detective and, of course, Watson.
"Eh, a couple of fans. I think."
"Of who?"
"You."
"Oh not again."
Lestrade winked at Watson over Holmes' shoulder. "Yeah, the girl seemed_really_interested in you."
"I'm glad to see you too, Lestrade."