After our lunch at the Criterion, we walked along the Thames to the new buildings that now housed the Metropolitan Police Force, London's famed Scotland Yard. We had again taken up the guise of a pair of reporters. This time, Irene had gone so far as to give herself a shadow of stubble on her chin, and from the way she carried herself she looked like a wiry young man.
As we approached the door, I fidgeted uncomfortably with my coarse suit. "Are you certain this is a good idea? If we're caught-" I broke off, glancing around to make sure I hadn't been heard.
"Do you think they would see us out if we came as ourselves? No, we won't be caught so long as we play our parts," Irene answered softly, but with an air of unshakable confidence, "People are blind to that which they don't expect to see. We dress as reporters, so why would we be anything but?"
I assented, but this time she took the lead.
"Excuse me, sir," Irene stopped one of the men on the way to the entrance - presumably returning from lunch, just as we were. She spoke in short, rough phrases, her voice deepened, "Do you know where we can find Inspector Lestrade?"
"What do you need him for?" the man replied, obviously in a sour mood.
"We're reporters with Accounts of Fact and Fiction. We have a few questions for him."
A somewhat malicious smile crossed the man's tired face and he turned to lead us inside. "Of course, right this way."
"And your name is?" I piped up.
"Inspector Gregson at your service." He raised his hat to us, and then opened the door, welcoming us inside.
Irene gave me an appreciative glance and then turned back to the Inspector. "Inspector Gregson, you said? You've worked with Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
"On one or two cases," he said evasively, "Inspector Lestrade has needed to call upon him many more times than I have over the years. I'm only barely acquainted with Mr. Holmes myself."
With Inspector Gregson leading the way, we went straight past the front desk, down one of several busy corridors leading deeper into the Scotland Yard headquarters.
"What's it like working with him?" Irene pressed as we hurried after the inspector.
"He's not the easiest man to work with, a bit full of himself, if you take my meaning," Inspector Gregson began hesitantly, but he gathered steam as he spoke. "He's a bit of a showman, keeping his observations to himself until he can put it all together in one grand reveal. He likes the spotlight. There's not a man in the Yard - not a man who's worked with him that is - who wouldn't mind taking him down a peg if he had the chance. Still," he admitted with a little reluctance as we stopped at an office door, "I can't deny that he's a good man to have on call. He does know his stuff, and he's helpful in a pinch - when he feels like it."
With that, Inspector Gregson knocked at the door.
A man who must have been Inspector Lestrade answered from the other side, "Come in."
Gregson pulled the door open and waved us inside with a smile that was a little too wide. "Reporters, they've got a few questions for you."
Inspector Lestrade shot his colleague a glare as Inspector Gregson hastily excused himself.
"Very well," Inspector Lestrade said with a sigh, "I don't have much time, but go ahead, ask away."
"I'm Nathaniel Clapham," Irene explained gruffly, "and this is my associate, Mr. Theodore Powell. We're with Accounts of Fact and Fiction-"
Inspector Lestrade grumbled in response.
Mr. Clapham ignored him and forged on, "We're aware of your connection to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. What's it like working with the consulting detective of literary fame?"
"Mr. Holmes is away, last I heard in France," Inspector Lestrade answered a little sharply. "It's been weeks since anyone here has seen him."
"But you've worked with him before. How far back have you known him?"
Inspector Lestrade resigned himself to answering her questions and forced himself to think back. "It's been what? Over ten years now? Dr. Watson asked me the same thing a couple years ago for his writing - trying to reconstruct Mr. Holmes' history, I think. I couldn't tell him either, not even after he suggested a few years."
"What years did he give you?"
"Let's see… Well, Dr. Watson met Mr. Holmes in '81, and of course his own marriage to Mrs. Watson in '88, that's all I remember. You'd have to ask Dr. Watson himself for more details. I honestly don't know why you're coming to me. Dr. Watson lived with Mr. Holmes; if you want information on him, Dr. Watson is the man to ask. Though, now that I think of it, I haven't seen Dr. Watson around in a while. He is a married man now, I hear he even has his own medical practice."
"But you knew Mr. Holmes before he met Dr. Watson?"
The inspector nodded. "That's how I know it's been a long time."
"You must know something about his history."
Inspector Lestrade shook his head in exasperation. "I've only worked with him, asked him to help out with the finer points on a few cases, that's all. He's not a very communicative man when it doesn't suit him, and all he likes talking about is how we're wrong and he's right."
"What was he like when you met him?"
The inspector thought back again. "He was a young man, not long out of university, as far as I could tell. Said he'd solved a few cases before and thought he could help with one I was working on at the time. I was a rookie and the case was a real doozy - it'd been months and no leads. He solved it in a matter of days. Didn't ask much pay, just that we remember him next time we were having trouble with a case, said it'd save us both some trouble - according to him we'd destroyed most of the evidence before he got there," Inspector Lestrade concluded with a scoff at the amateur's arrogance.
"According to Dr. Watson's account, Mr. Holmes is and has always been a largely friendless man. Can you attest to that?"
"As I said before, I'm not a personal friend of the man, I just know him through work. For a little while there - before Dr. Watson showed up - as far as I could tell I was his only connection, but even then, I didn't see him much. He could have belonged to half the clubs in London, and I wouldn't have known the half of it. I wouldn't know now."
Mr. Clapham refused to let him get out of answering that easily. "But you're a man of the Yard; you're used to making quick judgments about people and figuring out a lot from a little. Detectives and reporters are alike in that sense. Do you think he belonged to half the clubs in London?"
Inspector Lestrade hesitated before shaking his head. "No, I don't think so. As I said, far as I could tell, Mr. Holmes hasn't had any friends aside from Dr. Watson for all the time I've known him, and now even they don't seem so close any more. It happens when a man gets married."
"What about Mr. Holmes?" I said. "Has he had any suitors?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Mr. Holmes has never seemed the type for marrying," Inspector Lestrade said with half a smile.
"What about Irene Adler?" Mr. Clapham suggested.
Inspector Lestrade chuckled. "I doubt it, though you're not the first to ask."
"Why not?"
"I've never seen him so much as look at a woman if it wasn't for a case and I can't imagine he'd find one who would put up with him. I can hardly fathom why Dr. Watson puts up with him."
"Why does someone as brilliant as Mr. Holmes put up with Dr. Watson?"
"Dr. Watson has the patience of a saint," the inspector began, and then stopped as he abruptly realised he was answering the wrong question. Instead he shrugged and said, "Maybe Dr. Watson is just the only one who will put up with him. And the doctor does admire him; Mr. Holmes is never one to shy away from applause. Not that he doesn't care for Dr. Watson - he cares for the doctor more than he cares for any of the rest of us, at least."
"But you couldn't say why?"
Inspector Lestrade hesitated. "There's no use in speculating."
"Speculation from a detective-"
"Excuse me," Inspector Lestrade interrupted, "I've got work to do. If you've got no further questions-"
"Just one more," Mr. Clapham cut in before the inspector had the chance to show us the door. "Is Mr. Holmes truly the world's only consulting detective, or are there other consultants who compete with him for the Yard's ear?"
"Our own men are usually sufficient. We don't make a habit of bringing in outside 'experts'."
"Of course, but you must get a lot of difficult cases. What if Mr. Holmes isn't available or-"
"Despite what Mr. Holmes may believe, we're perfectly capable of taking care of things without him - or anyone else's help. And now I really must be getting back to work."
"Yes, thank you very much for your time." Mr. Clapham jumped up and wrung the inspector's hand.
"Yes, thank you very much," I said, and hastily followed Irene out the door, leaving the inspector in peace.
