A Study in Solar
Chapter 7
By Trynia Merin
Lestrade mumbled and curled up before she realized she wasn't on the narrow back seat of a shuttle, but was lying 9on a wider and much softer surface. She blinked twice and sat up in bed, realizing she was cocooned in a silver space blanket under the sheets and blankets. She at bold upright in the bed, rubbing her eyes and glancing around. "Zed," she mumbled, and realized it was a hotel room, with two doors leading out. A window looked out a few stories onto what appeared to be city spires. She saw her uniform and realized whoever had put her to bed had taken great pains to conceal her body in the space blanket. A pink light hit her eyes and she realized that the sky was that color.
"Zed, I'm on Mars... but the shuttle... how where?" she gasped.
Her hand brushed the pillow and felt an envelope. On it was written her name in cursive script, and she recognized the handwriting at once. With a wry smile she tore it open and read the note enclosed:
My dear Lestrade,
Didn't want to wake you, but by the time you read this, you've awakened from what I hope was a restful repose. I managed to land the ship sufficiently, and took the liberty of procuring a hotel suite for the both of us. No one spotted us, and I have rounded up material for a disguise. I've also ordered breakfast, and should be back at half past ten, with the rest of your costume. Watson made reservations for the rest of the week. I apologize for the inconvenience but it seemed favorable. The hotel is the Lowell Hilton resort, and we are under the guise of newlyweds, a Mr. and Mrs. William Scott. I suggest that you put on the blonde wig, as the main room itself is under video surveillance for security purposes.
Yours sincerely
Holmes.
Lestrade glanced at the digital alarm clock. Her uniform lay neatly folded on the dresser, and she noticed the blonde wig along with a bathrobe and slippers. Fresh white towels were also neatly stacked with a ladies toiletry bag. She slipped the bathrobe on, and opened one of the doors, which was to the bathroom where a closet sonic shower awaited her. She set the pulse for deep massage, and set the oil cycle on high. While water showers were used on Earth, in the colonies the sonic showers predominated to conserve water, and worked just as well to keep a person clean. The oil pulsed into the skin and moisturized after the sonic shower had done its work.
After a half-hour, she was toweling herself off and brushing her hair when she heard the door to the main room open. "Are you awake?" came his voice, and she opened the door a crack. In the main room were an entertainment console, table with two chairs, and a sofa, along with a smaller double bed. Clothing was neatly folded, and she saw a gentleman with reddish hair and a moustache enter. She knew it was Holmes of course, but in one of his ingenious disguises. Taking the blonde wig, she tied up her own hair and slid it on overtop so it fitted well. An elastomask was attached, and altered her features to some degree, but she still looked similar.
"I got your note," she called out. "As usual you set off again without consulting me."
"I apologize. I thought it best not to wake you," he said as he put down the packages he was carrying.
"Well, just don't let it happen again," she laughed.
"I have purchased suitable attire," he said, setting the bundle down beside the door.
"So, I take it we weren't noticed at the space dock"
"Only by those I wished to see us," Holmes answered. She picked up the parcel and noticed it was from Wanamaker's, a rather exclusive woman's clothing boutique. Puzzled, she wondered just what outfit he thought was 'suitable.' Closing the door, she pulled the bundle in and opened it. An exclamation followed by a laugh exited her lips when she unfolded a floor length dress made of blue velveteen, and a pair of lace up mars striders, in black leather and laces. Matching blue stockings went with the ensemble with a full slip that had crinolines. So when the skirt was worn overtop the a-line and pleats rustled around for more volume. It was a more formal piece of attire, worn by most of the mars women colonists, because of their need to be covered in case of a dome breach. As she changed, she realized it showed the minimum amount of skin, namely her neck, face, and hands. A pair of leatherette gloves went with it, and she laced up the mars striders, feeling the weighted boots made walking in the lesser gravity easier. Wearing the wig, which was long and blonde, she styled it into a French twist, and nodded. Only her blue eyes and general facial shape were similar, and she realized for a second she looked rather like her younger sister.
"Nice," Lestrade nodded as she opened the door, and checked herself one last time before exiting. Holmes was setting the table with the contents of a room service cart, and he was wearing a forest green modern suit with a matching chocolate blazer. His own pair of mars striders came to his knees and the whole ensemble gave him a modern, yet distinguished air. The reddish hair was almost coppery, and still his eyes were the same gray. He looked strange with the false moustache, but it seemed to suit him strangely.
"What's all this?" she laughed as she strode in, and noticed his eyes travel over her dress with a twinkle of admiration. "You've been enjoying yourself way too much..."
"It was no party carrying you in here last night," Holmes shot back with a slight laugh.
"Oh come on in 0.75 gee?" she responded. "Not my fault you've gone soft after a 200 year nap!"
"Well, sleep perhaps hasn't agreed with you as much as I thought. Get up on the wrong side of bed?"
"When one side faces a window," she said. "You're lucky it didn't face a wall."
He pulled out a chair for her, and she folded the skirt under her to sit down. After he pushed her in, he sat down opposite and busied himself turning over the coffee cups and pouring milk from a small container into each cup. Lestrade noticed how the stream was longer and took more time to pour into the cup, followed by the steaming coffee. For himself he had eggs, English muffin smeared with jam, and sausage. Before her he set a plate of donuts, and she smiled.
"You messed up the coffee again," she pointed out.
"I cannot change the habit of a lifetime," he insisted. "And after all the trouble I went to as to procure breakfast."
"Yeah, yeah," she snickered, picking up her cup of coffee and sipping the hot brew. Her eyes fell on the donuts and she realized they were chocolate covered. Breaking one open she saw the cream filling, and nibbled them slowly.
"You'll have to tolerate my preference if you want me to persist in fetching for you," he smirked.
"Those fish I bet they can smell in the next room," she pointed to his kippers. He smirked when cream dribbled down her chin, and tossed her a napkin.
"Can't go damaging that lovely dress," he scolded good-naturedly. "After the number of stores I passed through... and I must say it complements your appearance nicely."
"If that's your way of complementing me, thanks," Lestrade blushed. She spread the napkin on her lap, and devoured the donuts. As he moved, she noticed his collar sticking out, and realized he must have put the ultramodern one-piece suit on over his regular clothes. As they munched their food, she said, "So, we're on Mars, posing as newlyweds... what's your master plan that you conveniently FORGOT to fill me in on?"
"Wouldn't it seem logical to mill about and secure more information regarding the rhea station disaster?" he raised an eyebrow and washed more muffins down with coffee. "By hiding amidst the tourists as to not arouse suspicion. Whoever attacked us will doubtless wonder if we escaped if Holmes and Lestrade were to put in an appearance."
"Fascinating," she said dryly, putting on the appropriate serious face.
"If that is another pop culture reference, the significant escapes me," he rolled his eyes.
"Zed, I forget sometimes that your education didn't include 20th century SF references," she chuckled.
"I must conclude that you are a fanatic of that era?" he winked.
"Like you avoided classical literature in your day, so did I..." Lestrade nodded. "Again I have the inside track."
"As usual you delight in keeping me surprised," he shook his head, spreading strawberry preserves over another muffin.
"A great detective needs to observe," she teased, and he saw her grin.
"Part and parcel no doubt of your 'bookworm' persona..." Holmes jested. "This proves that we share a rather alarming similarity."
"That's right my dear Holmes," she snickered, almost dribbling coffee down her new dress. Some coffee slid down the wrong pipe and she broke into a coughing fit. Holmes slugged her on the back.
"Are you all right, Inspector?" he asked. No doubt there was only video surveillance, not sound. Concern was apparent in his blue eyes.
"If I drop dead from your sparkling wit, I'll charge my funeral to your estate and you can bring me back to life," she coughed.
"Touché," he laughed. Lestrade looked again at the donuts, and sighed. Holmes who was always observing her behavior lifted an eyebrow in question.
"Its' the donuts," she said softly.
"They are not to your liking?" he asked.
"They're the same kind that Lernov used to bring me... in bed," she muttered. "Did you do this on purpose?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said innocently enough. "After all I thought they were your favorite?"
"Don't get cute. Come on, don't you think it's more than a coincidence that I happened to mention I liked them, when Lernov and I were talking... and you must have overheard," she said, voice rising in agitation. Emotions that were long held in check were again bursting to the surface, and she felt her control eroding again. Suspicion that he was bugging her deliberately, or bating her arose, and anger burned in her stomach.
"Your reaction to the crème donuts suggests uncomfortable familiarity then?" he said.
"You're messing with me, aren't you?" she said bitterly.
"I must know more about the nature of your past relationship," he said slowly. "Because it may have bearing on the case."
"As a colleague or a friend?" she choked.
"As both. As a colleague because your emotions may cloud your objectivity and as your friend, seeing the emotional distress it causes you engenders considerable concern in me..." Holmes said as he put down his coffee cup. "And suggest a reason for your hesitation... being your devotion to work resembling mine... as to why you do not court."
"Zed, I knew this would come up again," she cursed, glancing quickly away.
"You know my past, I simply wish to determine."
"You are really something, Sherlock Holmes," she got out, putting up her wall.
"Lestrade, if it causes you distress, we can discuss it later," he sighed.
"Zed... I can't," she choked again, feeling her chin wobbling as tears burned her eyes. He blurred before her vision, and she hid her face in her hands. "I can't talk about this now!"
Holmes rose from the table, and she rushed out of the room, not wanting him to see her crying. The door slammed almost in his face as he called her name. He sighed deeply, chiding himself for being so insensitive. Inside the bedroom Lestrade tore off her mask and wig, and sat on the bed, face in her hands. She knew he cared for her, which was obvious. The fact that the great detective had come to include her in any manner in his inner circle meant far more than she had ever hoped. All she could do was to put her face in her hands and sob. Lying on the bed she curled up, and buried her face in the pillow, letting her cries be muffled.
"Damn you Holmes, for what you've made me feel," she sobbed.
A knock sounded at the door, and she heard him say, "Lestrade... please, open the door... we have to talk."
"Go away, you've said enough!" she bit back.
"Lestrade, please... I implore you... it was not my intention to cause you this much distress," came Holmes' voice, a note of deep concern apparent.
"Well you sure could have fooled me!" she shouted. "Just go away dammit!"
"Lestrade please," he tried again. "Its rather difficult to talk to you with this door in the way. I apologize for blundering into something that is of a highly personal and disturbing nature. But don't you realize that if you don't face this problem, it will only continue to fester till it gets worse."
"Why should I tell you anything?" she cried.
"Because I am concerned about you," he said hesitatingly.
"So concerned you'd make me cry twice in 24 hours?" she asked bitterly. "Does it make you happy to see a tough as nails inspector turn into a bawling baby... just so you can see she's a woman like those 19th century pushovers?"
"Lestrade that is NOT how I regard you at all. That's a most UNFAIR assessment," Holmes said hotly.
"Zed... I can't deal with this," she got out. Holmes quickly opened the door, and stood there. She lay on the bed; her back turned to him, and heard his footsteps as he closed the door behind him. There was the sound of something tearing, and she felt the weight of his body shifting the bed as he sat down on the edge. At the touch of his hand on her shoulder she flinched.
"Lestrade," he said softly, stroking her back. "This cannot go on."
"Please don't ask me," she sobbed. Holmes put both hands on her shoulder, and gently rubbed her back with soothing strokes. She heard him sigh, and Holmes realized he felt helpless for the second time in two days, unable to know what to say to her. All the clues were telling him a disturbing story, and he shuddered to think what must have caused her to bottle up so much pain.
"Obviously it is a highly personal nature," he said quietly. "I feared this would happen. That in revealing it you would resent my intrusion. I didn't realize how grave the matter was..."
He tried to turn her over, but she didn't want him to see her crying. Instead she lay there, breath heaving in and out as Holmes' sensitive fingers brushed her hair away from her face, and he lay alongside her, putting his arm over her body to pull her close to him. It caused her to come undone even more, and she finally turned over to bury her head in his chest. Holmes raised her to a sitting position, and took her in his arms.
"Lestrade, please look at me," he urged, stroking her shoulders and fingering her hair. "It's rather hard to converse with your back."
She snorted halfway and sobbed, and she looked up into his face, tears fat and heavy upon her cheeks. He presented her his handkerchief, and she clutched it. His hands rested on her shoulders, and he tucked her strands of hair behind her ear. He had removed the elastomask so his familiar features were visible, and she wondered if that was deliberate, to show her that he was just as willing to open himself partway as he had forced her to. The top of the costume was unzipped and hung around his waist to reveal his customary vest, tie and shirt.
"This is not me... crying like a baby."
"It is most definitely not the Lestrade I know," he nodded. "And that also is disturbing. This Lernov is very much an unresolved issue, and if left so, the root cause will only cause you more pain."
"I hate it when you're right," she mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder as she slid her arms around his waist, and Holmes again embraced her, a bit more gently this time. He did not flinch or pull away as he had sometimes done in the past. His heart thumped under her ear, and she realized how good it felt to be held, simply held by someone.
"Do you wish for me to deduce, if that would ease your story?" he asked softly, lips close to her ear.
"Fire away," Lestrade sighed, gripping his shoulders as if she were using him as an anchor to reality.
"Well I can immediately deduce that his mere presence evokes conflicting emotions, suggesting a rather intimate involvement... and may I be so bold as to ascertain it was your first and only such relationship?"
"Yeah, you're right," she mumbled, blushing.
"And I am also to deduct that he had a rather charismatic and dominant personality to which you were drawn like a moth to a flame... and in so doing caused your emotional dependence upon him."
"That's it. And I bet you wondered how an inspector like me got involved with a jerk like him," she answered.
"That question had crossed my mind," Holmes admitted. "Considering the Lestrade I know."
"He wasn't like any other man I knew at the time," she sighed. "Two years ago we broke up... we met in college. He was a year ahead of me, and was the guy every girl wanted to be with."
"How did you first become involved?"
"A blind date," said Beth with a bitten laugh. "My buddies put me up to it. They figured poor bookworm Lestrade needed to get her nose out of the screen and get a life. So when the Sadie Hawkins dance came up, they fixed me up with a date, and I was just dreading it. Come the time of the dance, they had helped me pick out a dress, and dragged me almost kicking and screaming to the club. Sergey showed up dressed like a fashion plate out of GQ, and brought roses and chocolates. He knew all the right things to say, he didn't use cheap pick up lines, and we just talked."
"Obviously a seasoned courtier," said Holmes with a hint of jealousy, or so Lestrade thought.
"That whole night was like a fairy tale," Lestrade laughed bitterly. "He took me home in a hover limo, and we stayed out till six in the morning... just talking. Of course my father gave me nine shades of holy hell, but after he met Sergey, who apologized profusely, he warmed up to us being a couple."
"Ah," Holmes nodded. "Continue."
"We would meet at the library. He was a poly sci and criminal justice major, like I was, except I minored in forensics... he helped me with my homework, and he always seemed to know how to make me feel... special. Sometimes when it was late, I'd stay at his dorm room, and sleep over. Eventually he told me he was going to be a cop in New Scotland Yard, and thought I'd like to join him after he graduated."
"Was he what convinced you to adopt your current line of work?" Holmes asked.
"He taught me how to use an ionizer, and how to enter the social circles. He took me to parties... he was always a good schmoozer with that Russian accent and his debonair ways. His parents had a lot of money... they had emigrated to New London from New Moscow and were big wheels in imports... and space shipping..."
"Interesting," Holmes said, filing that detail away in his vast attic storehouse.
"So when he graduated, he got a small apartment, and invited me to move in with him for his senior year. My parents weren't too crazy about me living with a man I wasn't engaged to, but he promised he'd ask me after I graduated college. I was young and stupid... so I moved in with him. He got into the academy, and we lived together for at least two years. All the time my friends and I would meet for ladies night out, and he'd be okay with it at first. But then things started to change... when I graduated... and got accepted to the academy."
"How did they change?" Holmes asked slowly, stroking her back. "Precisely?"
"Well for starters, he started coming home later and later after classes. He'd say he was out with his buddies. We would go out as a couple, but he started insisting on answering the videophone, saying I had to get my rest. And when my parents called, he'd tell them I was busy, and not tell me that they called. Then he'd complain that I was out too often with my friends, and ask where I went. Sometimes I caught him following me."
"Good lord," Holmes sighed.
"Then we started arguing a lot. I said if he went out till all hours, I could to, and he gave me some line about a woman needing to be kept in line... that there were bad men out there who would just snap up a pretty thing like me, and that he had to protect me."
"Really?" Holmes smirked. "As if you required protection."
"Really," Lestrade sniffled, wiping at her eyes again with his handkerchief. "And sometimes he would get mad at the stupidest things, like if I forgot to do my share of the chores. He started throwing things, and sometimes they would head right in my direction, but just miss..."
"Did he ever...hit you?" Holmes asked slowly.
"Only once... and that was enough," she said softly. "It was the night when he had said he was quitting Scotland Yard and was joining the space marines. He said he'd worked out a plan where I could come with him and we'd get married and move to Mars. I said that I wanted to stay and finish my coursework, and that it was unfair of him not to tell me sooner. He got angry and said that HE made the decisions for us, because he knew me better. I told him that I didn't want to leave New London and be away from my friends. He started to yell at me, and I yelled back. The dishes almost hit my head. Then his punch landed RIGHT by my shoulder in the wall."
"My god," Holmes gasped.
"Then I felt him slap my face, and I landed on the floor, stunned. He said that I was a bad girl and that if I loved him that I would come with him," she said softly, not looking Holmes in the face. She was so unlike the Lestrade he knew. "I ran out of the apartment, and went home for the night. I didn't tell my parents. Then he called a few hours later, crying his eyes out and saying he was sorry. He showed up in his hover car and brought me flowers and chocolates, saying he wouldn't let it happen again. And me like a dummy believed him..."
"You went back?"
"Yes. He said he was leaving in a week for basic training. He even got me a ring. But I realized that would take me away from my family. So when he decided to leave, I never showed up on the transport. And he left without me..."
"I'm glad you didn't go," Holmes said, his eyes dark with anger. "That misbegotten excuse for a man had no right to treat a lady in such a manner. Honestly, I don't think that society has progressed in so called equality of the sexes if men can get away with treating the fair sex in such a beastly fashion!"
"So that's why I swore off men. I said I'd never let myself get close to anyone in that way again, because they would leave me... they would hurt me. So I learned to be strong," Lestrade said softly. "I guess that's why I never was much for dating..."
"I cannot say I blame you, hearing this sad tale," Holmes sympathized. "I am truly regretful for your situation, and I wish you had entrusted me with this information before."
"I thought you'd think less of me," she admitted.
"Watson has imparted many secrets to me over the years," Holmes said.
"You don't go telling everyone your darkest secrets," she pointed out.
"Perhaps not," Holmes said, looking guilty as he stared past her. "But I do value my relationships. And my friendships are highly important. And since you are one of my friends, I cannot help but wish to assist you in any way I can."
"Thanks Sherlock, you have no idea how much that means to me," she said, wiping at her eyes. He raised an eyebrow at the use of his more private name. Lestrade leaned over and gave him a soft but quick kiss on the cheek.
"I am at your service, Beth," he said softly, giving her a firm squeeze as he hugged her tightly. She simply rested her head on his shoulder, tears in her eyes as they sat on the bed, and she drew strength from their embrace. Never in a million years would she have thought the great detective would have done something like this.
"Don't think you have to protect me," she whispered.
"Rubbish! I will endeavor to protect you in any means necessary," Holmes said firmly. "Does this animal know baristu and is he a first in his class boxing champion?"
"He does know karate, and kick boxing," she said slowly. "And he is a jealous guy."
"Rather presumptuous of him to claim something that has never rightfully been his for the past few years," Holmes snorted indignantly. "The absolute NERVE of him!"
She smiled at his possessiveness, wondering if he regarded her with greater intimacy then just a friend. She pulled back and regarded him with a watery-eyed smile. Holmes took her hand and kissed it softly, making her blush.
"Shall we go out as Mr. and Mrs. William Scott and close the snare on this blackguard?" Holmes suggested. "I think the hunt will do us both good... for the game is very much afoot."
"Let's go hunt this… jerk," she said, not wanting to use course language around him, and it struck her as odd.
"One more detail," Holmes said as he handed her elastomask back to her. Reaching in the breast pocket of his coat, he pulled out a small gold ring. "If we are to pose as newlyweds, you must have a suitable wedding ring... this should suffice."
She held out her hand with a sad smile as he slid the ring on her finger. This was probably the closest she'd ever get to being married. Too bad it wasn't for real. Holmes gave her a cheerful smile as he stroked her hair, and kept his arm around her. She said nothing, simply smiling and letting the new feeling pass between them. It was good to be cared for in such a manner, and right now that was what she needed, just to know a man cared of her as a friend, even though she desired far more. For once his Victorian sensibilities were refreshing, and she laughed at the thought.
