Chapter 59
Three Days Off (Day Three)
Day Three was bliss. Greg and Louise slept in, and then by the time they got down for breakfast, Margaret had disappeared to do some shopping. Brian was sitting at the kitchen table, reading his newspaper.
After an exchange of "Good mornings," Greg asked his father-in-law "Do you ever go with her shopping?"
Brian just smirked. "I could say something to irritate Lou, but I won't."
Louise was rustling in the refrigerator and bread bin for the makings of toast. "Don't go there, Dad."
The smirk broadened. "She knows that the northern male's answer to that question is that grocery shopping is women's work, but I always say in my defence that there is no point in me going, because I have no say in any purchases. Margaret makes all the food choices."
Louise pulled her head out of the cupboard where she'd found the jam jars, and said in a waspish tone, "Well, if you men ever did the cooking, then you'd get a chance to make decisions about the shopping."
"Me, cook? Your mother would divorce me rather than eat something I'd prepared. She'd swear I was trying to poison her."
"Well, Greg can cook; he just never gets back from the office early enough to do it."
He looked a bit guiltily at the plate of perfect toast that she delivered to his place at the table. "Well, I will be sure to tell the criminals of London to oblige me by keeping more social hours when it comes to homicides and serious crimes. I'd really enjoy being able to cook you a meal."
She sat down with her own plate. "You promised- no talking about work. For once, I want a whole day of your undivided attention. I do not want to hear the words 'metropolitan', 'police' or 'force' until we are back inside the M25. No 'murder', no 'homicide', no 'criminal'- okay? And on pain of death, no 'Sherlock Holmes'. I swear that if I ever divorce you, I'll cite him as the other guilty party. Greg, I've still got your phone- so if you do stray, it's going straight into the bin, smashed into pieces. And Dad, you are hereby forbidden to raise the topic again. Got that?"
Struck dumb by the ferocity of her lecture, the two men in her life just nodded silently, in unison.
oOo
And Greg relaxed and enjoyed the day, just spending it with Louise. The time reminded him why he married Louise. Both of their working lives in London were stressful, and demanding. By the time they got home after a full day's work, they were tired and cranky, but had the rest of daily life to contend with- preparing meals, washing, shopping, cleaning the flat, doing the errands, even the paperwork needed to keep the household going- bills, bank statements, tax returns- just stuff. When they tried to shoe-horn in some form of social life as well as time together, it was not surprising that they rarely had the energy to really put much into their relationship. They co-existed, shared the same space, but didn't really get the best out of being together.
The three day break was coming to an end, so they decided to prolong it as much as possible. In fact, at Louise's request, they decided to delay leaving Manchester until after the evening rush hour was over. Taking one of the last trains of the night would mean they wouldn't get into the flat until after midnight, but that suited Greg just fine.
It wasn't until they got a taxi at Euston Station that he started thinking about what he was going to find when he finally got his phone back. When they were inside the door of the flat in Seven Sisters, she put her handbag down and headed for the loo. While she was in there, he fished it out and switched in on.
You have three new messages.
He hit voicemail and then play
9.12pm
"Dimmock here. You said I should trust him. I've done everything you asked, Lestrade, but your man has come up with zero. First of all yesterday he makes me spend valuable police resources packing up two dead men's books- I'm talking crate loads of them, and then deliver them to Baker Street. Oh- and did I mention that he came up yesterday with another dead body, this one a woman in a museum? Then he spins this tale about the bodies being hits by a Chinese tong because the bodies have a similar tattoo on their foot. He says they stole something from a smuggling ring, but he tells me sweet FA about what was actually stolen. His latest form of torture? He and his sidekick phone in tonight about a Chinese circus being a front for the smuggling ring, so I gave the order for a raid. Did we get a result? Oh, no- that would be too easy. I have nothing to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime. It's just so weird that the sidekick took his girlfriend on a date to this so-called circus, but there's no circus when we get there."
Greg could hear the strain in the young man's voice. "Please, Lestrade come back and sort this maniac out. Your Sergeant has got the right idea about Holmes." Then the message ended.
11.42pm
"Dimmock again. This guy is definitely certifiable. I've now got another dead body- one Chinese tong heavy, in a railway arch at Black Tramway- that's in Southwark by the way. And a cock-and-bull story about a jade hair pin worth nine million pounds- but no sign of it turning up. The really weird part? The other Chinese heavy who was still alive confirms the story. He's singing right now – he'll turn evidence in exchange for the chance to do time for kidnapping and assault in the UK- anything but return to China. We haven't got the property back, and the leader of the gang escaped, but at least we seem to be moving somewhere. I've got to say, though, I'm confused as hell. Can you PLEASE come back in tomorrow morning and sort this out? It makes my brain hurt working with him."
12.04am
"It's me. We need to talk. I think I've broken the case. I'll come in at 11 and present the evidence- but to you, just you. I don't think Dimmock can take any more."
Greg smirked at the tinge of pleading under the baritone tones. Sounded like he wasn't the only one who was going to enjoy getting back to normal tomorrow.
He thought about it. The saying is that absence makes the heart grow fonder. With Louise, the reverse was true- spending time with her made him appreciate her more than he did when all the other demands on his life were there. In Sherlock's case, however, the saying worked. The three day holiday had made him realise how much he'd learned to trust the man. But even he needed the occasional break from the relentless pace of working with the world's only consulting detective. He was glad to know that for once, someone else had managed to keep an eye on Sherlock.
