Lestrade examined the 'Bits and Parts' hardware store for any type of
clues. Apparently, her criminal hadn't been as careful last night as he had
been before. There were footprints in the sand, and he actually left a DNA
trace. "Got ya!" Lestrade grinned as she headed towards the yard with her
DNA sample. All she had to do was find out who this DNA belonged to, and
she would have her criminal.
Lestrade walked into the Yard with her head held high. She was
going to crack a case that even the world's greatest detective
declared impossible. She put the DNA sample into the scanner and
waited for the analysis. Holmes' picture appeared on the
computer screen, along with his recently transmitted file.
Lestrade gasped. "Holmes?! It was Holmes' DNA?! But... but that
can't be!!" She quickly examined the footprint. "It's the same
size as Holmes' feet...." Lestrade gulped. She quickly got rid
of the DNA sample and went back to the hardware store to erase
any other traces of evidence leading to Holmes. No, he just
couldn't be the criminal. His whole two lives were dedicated to
fighting crime!
Lestrade flew to Holmes' flat, quite faster than she was
supposed to. She walked up to the front door, not noticing the
stained blood there from Holmes' arm. Not even bothering to
knock, Lestrade forced Holmes' front door open and slammed it
shut again once inside. Watson looked up from studying a cook
book. "Why, Lestrade! What brings you here?"
"Where is Holmes?!" Lestrade demanded, her first time yelling at
poor old Watson.
"Why, he's still in his room. Hasn't even come out for
breakfast. He's still in recovery from last night."
"What happened last night?" Lestrade's hope grew. If Holmes was
with Watson all night last night, then he couldn't have been the
robber of the hard ware store.
"I have no idea. Holmes left here late without an explanation at
all. Then he came back hours later with a bloody arm and a
depressed air about him. He wouldn't tell me anything of what
occurred. You know how secretive he is."
Lestrade sighed and her hopes dropped to an even lower level
than she started with. All was black against Holmes, and yet it
didn't seem possible that he was the guilty party.
Lestrade pushed past Watson, and burst the door open with a
sudden surge of energy. Holmes was lying in his bed, still
dressed in yesterday's clothes, and was thinking deeply about
something. His arm was wrapped in layers upon layers of
bandages, making it very hard for him to move it. "Holmes!!!
What is going on here??!!" Lestrade screamed at him. She shut
the door behind her as she advanced into his room, leaving poor
Watson out of the conversation.
Lestrade walked into the Yard with her head held high. She was
going to crack a case that even the world's greatest detective
declared impossible. She put the DNA sample into the scanner and
waited for the analysis. Holmes' picture appeared on the
computer screen, along with his recently transmitted file.
Lestrade gasped. "Holmes?! It was Holmes' DNA?! But... but that
can't be!!" She quickly examined the footprint. "It's the same
size as Holmes' feet...." Lestrade gulped. She quickly got rid
of the DNA sample and went back to the hardware store to erase
any other traces of evidence leading to Holmes. No, he just
couldn't be the criminal. His whole two lives were dedicated to
fighting crime!
Lestrade flew to Holmes' flat, quite faster than she was
supposed to. She walked up to the front door, not noticing the
stained blood there from Holmes' arm. Not even bothering to
knock, Lestrade forced Holmes' front door open and slammed it
shut again once inside. Watson looked up from studying a cook
book. "Why, Lestrade! What brings you here?"
"Where is Holmes?!" Lestrade demanded, her first time yelling at
poor old Watson.
"Why, he's still in his room. Hasn't even come out for
breakfast. He's still in recovery from last night."
"What happened last night?" Lestrade's hope grew. If Holmes was
with Watson all night last night, then he couldn't have been the
robber of the hard ware store.
"I have no idea. Holmes left here late without an explanation at
all. Then he came back hours later with a bloody arm and a
depressed air about him. He wouldn't tell me anything of what
occurred. You know how secretive he is."
Lestrade sighed and her hopes dropped to an even lower level
than she started with. All was black against Holmes, and yet it
didn't seem possible that he was the guilty party.
Lestrade pushed past Watson, and burst the door open with a
sudden surge of energy. Holmes was lying in his bed, still
dressed in yesterday's clothes, and was thinking deeply about
something. His arm was wrapped in layers upon layers of
bandages, making it very hard for him to move it. "Holmes!!!
What is going on here??!!" Lestrade screamed at him. She shut
the door behind her as she advanced into his room, leaving poor
Watson out of the conversation.