It turned out that Ms. Melanie Dawson had been visiting her boyfriend on
the day of the explosions, and had left after promising that the two of
them would meet for dinner at a romantic restaurant. Watson sent a wink at
Holmes, who coughed, being careful to turn his rosy face away from
Lestrade, who started asking a few questions of her own. Ms. Dawson had
walked but a few blocks before being knocked down by a powerful gust - the
aftermath of the explosions. She had rushed back to the office and then
wandered about aimlessly after realizing her darling was gone. Melanie
Dawson ended her story with a sniffle, which made Holmes raise his
eyebrows. He asked if she had noticed anything mysterious about her
boyfriend (a Mr. Dylan Scott), his colleagues, or the general emotional
atmosphere of the office. The lady pondered the question for a moment,
before saying slowly in a composed voice, "Well, Dylan and his chums were
very relaxed and joking around, so I don't think they were expecting any.
disaster. But - I did see one of Dylan's friends receive a package, which
the delivery woman said was from 'his wife' and so he placed it on his own
desk. You don't think. that the package was actually a bomb?" Her eyes
widened and her fingers twitched uncontrollably, although it was evident to
Lestrade that Ms. Dawson was trying to hide her hands. After a few more
questions about her relationship with her boyfriend, Holmes thanked the
woman and left with Lestrade and Watson on his heels.
"What'd you think about her, Holmes?" Lestrade and Watson asked simultaneously. Sherlock smiled at the two and told them what he thought (thanks to the Inspector's painful noggin-slapping he decided to give up on his dramatic pauses). "Well it seems strange that, although they have been together for 'a couple' years, Ms. Dawson didn't seemed too grieved."
"Well it has been a while since the explosions, Holmes." Watson pointed out. But Holmes again showed off his mind-reading skills when he retorted that Lestrade hadn't recovered much from the explosions, apparent by the black band she wore on her uniform in mourning. Beth looked at her Scotland Yard clothes, and was surprised that she still had the band on. Every officer had been issued one, but she hadn't taken the time to take it off. She was about to tell Holmes that before he went on, "Watson, search the Scotland Yard archives for an officer named Dylan Scott, please." When the robot had finished and reported with a start that he couldn't find anybody by that name at all, Holmes nodded thoughtfully.
"Our good friend Chief Grayson took this young lady for granted, which I'm sure many people have made the mistake of doing. He assumed that she was an innocent little girl, seeing how beautiful she is, and therefore incapable of lying. Such is the curse of all lovely faces." Lestrade snapped her head toward Holmes in alarm. Did he just say a woman was lovely? And that she was beautiful? She raised her eyebrows with an amused look at Sherlock, who ignored her and continued, "But Watson's researches show that he was very wrong, and that Melanie Dawson is lying. Why she is doing so is a mystery, but it won't be so for long." His eyes had the suppressed twinkle in them that marked his eagerness to begin investigating but also his need to keep up an air of nonchalance. Holmes bid a quick farewell to his friends, and headed off into the depths of Scotland Yard HQ, telling Watson to escort Lestrade back. He always seemed to make sure they didn't follow him. It's a bit like that dramatic pause, but, luckily for him, with no Lestrade to smack him.
When Holmes returned to Baker Street later that day, Lestrade and Watson were having tea and biscuits, Watson's specialty. Holmes realized with a nostalgic thrill that he had missed Watson's cooking very much; Beth Lestrade wasn't the best cook and so the two often had to eat those nasty pellet chunks of food. Yuck. He grabbed a biscuit from Beth's plate with dexterity, and plopped himself down in his usual armchair with a contented sigh as he crammed the biscuit into his mouth. Lestrade and Watson looked at each other with that look which said, "Yup, he's at it again. Whoop- dido."
After finishing his biscuit so fast he almost choked, Sherlock Holmes reached for another. Lestrade gave him a frown but didn't stop him. When he finished his second one, he finally spoke up. "Well is seems that my afternoon wasn't wasted after all." She glared at Holmes again and Watson glanced at her face with amusement. "When I left the two of you I doubled back to Grayson's office and followed Ms. Dawson at a distance. She is a very careful young woman, but then again, my skills as a shadow are even more so. Ms. Dawson arrived at an apartment, hers, I assume, and after waiting for a moment I knocked on the door. She didn't seem surprised to see me, and I had a nice chat with her; it was very informative indeed." This time, Watson fixed Holmes with a look as well, and Holmes' brow furrowed, having finishing all the biscuits and was sitting in his chair empty-handed.
Sherlock looked like he could use a smoke, even though he had gradually weaned himself off tobacco, which was illegal in 2103. He flinched slightly as if longing for another day of lounging in his flat with the smoky atmosphere of a three-pipe problem. But he could do nothing against the law when people could snitch on him (except when he was breaking into somebody's home. Hum Dee Dum.) And now Beth Lestrade was taking away his dramatic pauses. He sunk limply in his chair, and continued reluctantly, "I won't waste your time with explanations. She would neither confirm nor deny anything. But now we know that Ms. Dawson was lying, but this is suspicious, nothing more. We don't have enough evidence that she's entirely on the wrong side of the law." Lestrade hardly seemed satisfied with this, and was about to tell Holmes so when Watson, sensing an upcoming dispute, changed the subject.
"Why Holmes! You never had a chance to put those lovely roses Lestrade gave you into a vase!" Watson moved toward the table where Lestrade's flowers lay, still in bloom (22nd century technology made for longer lasting flowers!), and picked them up. Holmes, picking up Watson's cue, moved to get a vase and placed the flowers in water. The roses seemed to brighten considerably after that. Lestrade smiled dreamily at the roses, remembering the monologue Holmes gave in John H. Watson's The Naval Treaty. ~ What a lovely thing a rose is! ~
And so they moved onto topics of lesser importance. Soon, Beth Lestrade left and - Holmes ignored the wink Watson sent him - wished Holmes a good night. He smiled back charmingly and reminded her to meet him at Baker Street the next morning. Their next stop would be the United States of America.
"What'd you think about her, Holmes?" Lestrade and Watson asked simultaneously. Sherlock smiled at the two and told them what he thought (thanks to the Inspector's painful noggin-slapping he decided to give up on his dramatic pauses). "Well it seems strange that, although they have been together for 'a couple' years, Ms. Dawson didn't seemed too grieved."
"Well it has been a while since the explosions, Holmes." Watson pointed out. But Holmes again showed off his mind-reading skills when he retorted that Lestrade hadn't recovered much from the explosions, apparent by the black band she wore on her uniform in mourning. Beth looked at her Scotland Yard clothes, and was surprised that she still had the band on. Every officer had been issued one, but she hadn't taken the time to take it off. She was about to tell Holmes that before he went on, "Watson, search the Scotland Yard archives for an officer named Dylan Scott, please." When the robot had finished and reported with a start that he couldn't find anybody by that name at all, Holmes nodded thoughtfully.
"Our good friend Chief Grayson took this young lady for granted, which I'm sure many people have made the mistake of doing. He assumed that she was an innocent little girl, seeing how beautiful she is, and therefore incapable of lying. Such is the curse of all lovely faces." Lestrade snapped her head toward Holmes in alarm. Did he just say a woman was lovely? And that she was beautiful? She raised her eyebrows with an amused look at Sherlock, who ignored her and continued, "But Watson's researches show that he was very wrong, and that Melanie Dawson is lying. Why she is doing so is a mystery, but it won't be so for long." His eyes had the suppressed twinkle in them that marked his eagerness to begin investigating but also his need to keep up an air of nonchalance. Holmes bid a quick farewell to his friends, and headed off into the depths of Scotland Yard HQ, telling Watson to escort Lestrade back. He always seemed to make sure they didn't follow him. It's a bit like that dramatic pause, but, luckily for him, with no Lestrade to smack him.
When Holmes returned to Baker Street later that day, Lestrade and Watson were having tea and biscuits, Watson's specialty. Holmes realized with a nostalgic thrill that he had missed Watson's cooking very much; Beth Lestrade wasn't the best cook and so the two often had to eat those nasty pellet chunks of food. Yuck. He grabbed a biscuit from Beth's plate with dexterity, and plopped himself down in his usual armchair with a contented sigh as he crammed the biscuit into his mouth. Lestrade and Watson looked at each other with that look which said, "Yup, he's at it again. Whoop- dido."
After finishing his biscuit so fast he almost choked, Sherlock Holmes reached for another. Lestrade gave him a frown but didn't stop him. When he finished his second one, he finally spoke up. "Well is seems that my afternoon wasn't wasted after all." She glared at Holmes again and Watson glanced at her face with amusement. "When I left the two of you I doubled back to Grayson's office and followed Ms. Dawson at a distance. She is a very careful young woman, but then again, my skills as a shadow are even more so. Ms. Dawson arrived at an apartment, hers, I assume, and after waiting for a moment I knocked on the door. She didn't seem surprised to see me, and I had a nice chat with her; it was very informative indeed." This time, Watson fixed Holmes with a look as well, and Holmes' brow furrowed, having finishing all the biscuits and was sitting in his chair empty-handed.
Sherlock looked like he could use a smoke, even though he had gradually weaned himself off tobacco, which was illegal in 2103. He flinched slightly as if longing for another day of lounging in his flat with the smoky atmosphere of a three-pipe problem. But he could do nothing against the law when people could snitch on him (except when he was breaking into somebody's home. Hum Dee Dum.) And now Beth Lestrade was taking away his dramatic pauses. He sunk limply in his chair, and continued reluctantly, "I won't waste your time with explanations. She would neither confirm nor deny anything. But now we know that Ms. Dawson was lying, but this is suspicious, nothing more. We don't have enough evidence that she's entirely on the wrong side of the law." Lestrade hardly seemed satisfied with this, and was about to tell Holmes so when Watson, sensing an upcoming dispute, changed the subject.
"Why Holmes! You never had a chance to put those lovely roses Lestrade gave you into a vase!" Watson moved toward the table where Lestrade's flowers lay, still in bloom (22nd century technology made for longer lasting flowers!), and picked them up. Holmes, picking up Watson's cue, moved to get a vase and placed the flowers in water. The roses seemed to brighten considerably after that. Lestrade smiled dreamily at the roses, remembering the monologue Holmes gave in John H. Watson's The Naval Treaty. ~ What a lovely thing a rose is! ~
And so they moved onto topics of lesser importance. Soon, Beth Lestrade left and - Holmes ignored the wink Watson sent him - wished Holmes a good night. He smiled back charmingly and reminded her to meet him at Baker Street the next morning. Their next stop would be the United States of America.