A/N: Updated 11/14/20.

Chapter 1

"Right, that's three coffees. Two black and one iced?" the barista verified.

"Yes, thank you," Greg Lestrade thanked the lady at the small coffee kiosk. While there was a slightly closer coffee cart to New Scotland Yard, this one had infinitely better coffee. And better coffee would hopefully mean a better day. Greg would take any chance he could to not only brighten his own day but his boss's day as well. If that meant that walking a bit further was the answer to the attitude problem of his heinous Detective Inspector, then so be it.

Detective Inspector Sandra Littleton was as no-nonsense as they came. Unfortunately, it appeared that the DI only considered him good for paperwork and coffee runs. Hopefully, it would only be a brief moment in his career, but it was one that he was ready to have behind him.

Greg tried not to focus on the negative. It was a beautiful May Spring day. People were out and happy that Summer was just around the corner. He had to admit that seeing everything in bloom brought a spring to his step. Despite the looming afternoon of paperwork, Greg still found himself in a good mood. Maybe he would surprise his wife with dinner reservations to one of her favorite restaurants.

While he waited off to the side of the coffee cart, he was cut off from his thoughts of wooing his wife by his phone. He sighed and fished it out of his trouser pocket.

"Lestrade," he answered in his most business-like voice, recognizing the number as one of the dispatch numbers.

"Sergeant," the voice of one of the dispatchers greeted. "There's been a murder victim found. St. James Park. Littleton has already been notified and will be on her way shortly."

"Right, thanks. I'm close. I'll head over," he replied before ending the call.

So much for the morning to get caught up on his paperwork, he sulked. Greg pocketed his phone and headed back to the coffee kiosk to grab his order, leaving a tip in the jar before turning to leave. It was only a short walk to the park from where he was at. With any luck, he'd be able to get a jump on the case before Littleton got there.

Greg found his mind wandering back to his wife during his walk towards the crime scene. He had never pictured being in such an uncertain place with his wife, Hannah. Things had unfortunately been tense between the two of them as of late and he found it difficult not to stress over their current situation too much. While a fancy dinner here and there wouldn't fix all of their problems, it would be a nice distraction and possibly allow them to just try and be an actual couple again. Couples' counseling was, unfortunately, not having its expected effect. While they had seemed to have moved past Hannah's infidelity, they continued to hit hurdle after hurdle. It was beginning to wear on him. This was part of the reason why Greg hoped to rekindle some of their spark, something to bring life back into their relationship.

Those thoughts would have to be pushed aside for the time being. Greg needed to get back into the professional mindset as he approached the crime scene. Several police officers could be seen from his position standing around the roped-off area, and it appeared that forensics had already started processing the evidence.

"Report," he barked once he got closer to the tape.

The officer in charge came over and began to give him a rundown of the facts they had been able to gather. She explained that they had gotten the call not too long ago. Some kid had discovered the body early this morning. The victim had been partially submerged in the small pond when said kid had stumbled across him. The victim was a thirty-two-year-old male. He was killed by a single gunshot wound to the head, with no sight of the weapon as of yet.

Greg nodded at the officer's report while he did his own personal inspection of the victim.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Officer Donovan," he started before providing her with a cup of black coffee. "A thank you for helping me out with that case from a couple of weeks ago," he nodded to her with a raise of his coffee cup. "You've got a real knack for this."

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that," she smiled and raised her cup to him before taking a small sip. "Anyway, the kid that found him is still here. I had a hard time getting him to leave, but I finally managed to get him out of the way a bit. He's by the bench over there," Sally Donovan pointed with her free hand to a lone park bench in front of a small grouping of trees. "I'm not sure he has anywhere to go if you get my drift. He probably came around to take a kip and found himself more than he bargained for," she finished with a frown.

Greg tutted. He hated it when he came across homeless youth out on the street. Unfortunately, it happened more often than most people cared to realize. Most of the time, they were too scared of cops to be close to one, let alone talk to one. Still, after he got a chance to look at the scene with his own eyes, he'd try and talk to the kid if the teen hadn't fled by then.

Without missing a beat, Greg went to talk to the forensics team to get a better idea of the situation to be as up to speed as possible before DI Littleton arrived. He kept throwing quick glances in the teenager's direction to make sure that he hadn't gotten spooked and taken off. Surprisingly, it seemed that he maintained a captivated eye on the crime scene in front of him. The kid was obviously fascinated with everything going on, and Greg had almost decided to go talk to him when Littleton finally arrived on the scene.

Greg stumbled to catch up with the Inspector's fast-paced walk before passing off her favorite iced coffee to her (with no thanks in return). He quickly relayed what information he had already gotten from Officer Donovan and included the new information he had obtained from the forensics team since he arrived on the scene; the water around the body damaged a lot of the evidence, and they were still trying to recover what they could.

"We're in the process of notifying the next of kin now, Inspector," Greg finished his report, flipping his notebook closed. "The victim still had his wallet with cash and credit cards on him, so it's not likely to be a robbery gone wrong."

Inspector Littleton was already a little taller than the average woman, but she clocked in at just an inch above Greg in her power heels. She was in her forties, with a very athletic physique and sandy blonde hair that was naturally very tightly curled, which she usually kept pinned back out of her face. The Inspector's attitude was one that was always ready for business, and her general facial expressions let you know that she was the no-nonsense variety before you even spoke with her.

"Very well," she gave a clipped answer. "Schedule a time for us to go and interview the family as soon as they've been notified," she nodded before turning back to the crime scene. "I'm going to go talk to forensics and make sure they can have some information ready by the afternoon," she informed him before marching off to the head of the forensics team that was currently standing next to the victim, wearing a pair of wellies in the shallow water feature.

Greg watched her go, letting a relieved breath out once his superior officer was out of earshot.

"She's the friendly sort, isn't she?" Officer Donovan asked after suddenly reappearing at his shoulder.

"Always," Greg snorted. "Make sure the onlookers don't get too close and let me know if you start to see any reporters try and sneak this way. I'm going to take a statement from the kid that found him. I'll be back in a tick," he nodded before taking off to the nearby bench that was nestled in the clearing of blossoming trees.

The kid in question had been observing the team do their job as they worked to gather evidence on the victim. Once Greg made his way closer, he noticed the boy's gaze move to focus more intently on him.

Now that Greg was closer, he was able to take in the picture in front of him. A tattered backpack that had seen better days had been carelessly tossed on the bench next to its owner. The kid was skinny, too skinny. That being said, the kid gave the appearance that he had just gone through a growth spurt, making his slender form even more apparent. Still, he was several centimeters shorter than himself, but Greg doubted that would last long. The dark mop of curls on top of his head stood out against his pallid face. However, it was the eyes that made Greg's stomach clench in sympathy for the kid in front of him. They were such a unique pale blue color, emphasized by the red bloodshot sclera. Large black smudges highlighted the fact that they were slightly sunken in orbs that stared back at him.

Greg started piecing together some guesses. The kid had been on the streets for a stretch. By the look of the kid's eyes alone, he suspected drugs but dearly hoped he was wrong, that it was just a fundamental lack of sleep and a decent meal.

Greg tried to give the kid his most unassuming smile, "Sergeant Greg Lestrade," he introduced himself, offering his hand to the younger man.

The kid's eyes flicked back and forth from Greg's face to his outstretched hand and Greg was beginning to doubt that he would talk to him. Finally, after a couple of moments of, apparently, careful deliberation, the teenager returned his handshake.

"Sherlock," the kid answered hesitantly. He still appeared to be carefully inspecting Greg for any signs that potentially labeled the Sergeant as a threat, so Greg tried to remain as relaxed as possible.

Greg noticed that the kid, Sherlock, had a proper grip when he returned the handshake, so he was not entirely terrified by adults.

"Sherlock, nice to meet you," Greg replied before dropping the kid's hand. "This whole thing must be a little bit of a shock, finding a body like this," he tossed his head back in the general direction of the crime scene.

Sherlock shrugged and seemed to give Greg one last once over before trying to peer over his shoulder to go back to viewing the scene behind him.

When it was evident that the kid would continue to ignore him, Greg tried to get him to open up again.

"Still, stumbling on a dead body is a lot for anyone to take in, more or less someone your age. How old are you, by the way?" Greg asked curiously while taking out his notebook from the breast pocket of his button-down shirt.

The kid, Sherlock, turned his gaze from the crime scene to look back at him, "Why is my age relevant to your investigation?" he asked, the kid now giving his full attention towards Greg.

Greg shrugged, "Well, it's not entirely relevant, I suppose. It's more for just my own personal curiosity," he answered truthfully.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and flicked them in different directions over Greg's body. The effect was making Greg feel slightly uncomfortable being under such intense scrutiny from the kid.

"Fifteen," Sherlock answered after nearly a minute of strained silence.

Greg felt his insides soften at the admission. He couldn't blame the lad for being skeptical of adults, especially one that was a cop.

"Well, um, Sherlock," Greg started, bringing a pen up to his notebook. "Why don't you tell me how you found the victim for my official report?"

"I came through St. James Park at approximately seven o'clock this morning. I intended to sit on one of the benches closer to the water, which is how I discovered the deceased. I then proceeded to make the phone call to report the victim on that payphone over there," Sherlock paused to point at the payphone that was closest to the main road before continuing. "And then I waited in close proximity until," there was a moment of hesitation while Sherlock let his gaze fall towards the officers processing the scene, "London's finest arrived," he filled in with an eye-roll and sarcastic tone. "The Officer directed me to wait over here," he finished, leaving Greg with the impression that the kid was somewhat of an elitist.

Oh, so he thought he was a funny boy, did he? Greg nodded along to the kid's story, jotting a couple of notes into his book before pocketing it. The well-spoken teenager still surprised him, despite the subtle rib at the Yard's expense. Under all of that, there was still a posh accent with a strong grasp of the English language. The puzzle pieces weren't adding up for Greg.

"Did you touch the body at all?" Greg asked, suddenly concerned that he had disturbed the evidence.

Sherlock shook his head in the negative, "I merely observed from the bridge above," he confirmed, nodding towards the bridge in question. "It was obvious from the hole in his head that he was dead. Judging by the discoloration of his fingertips, I would say he had been dead for approximately two hours prior to my discovery of him."

"Right," Greg tapered off slowly, not expecting that type of answer. "So, just to be clear, you're saying the time of death is around five this morning?" Greg asked, still struggling to wrap his mind around the intelligent answer.

Sherlock simply nodded.

Greg raised a curious eyebrow, "And that is your entirely professional opinion?" he questioned the obviously smart teenager, letting his own sarcasm come through.

Sherlock's face remained stoic, clearly not amused by Greg's attempts at humor.

"This sort of thing interests you, doesn't it?" Greg asked, genuinely curious.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the Sergeant before answering, "It is something that is of interest to me, yes."

"Well, good for you," Greg nodded happily at the boy. "If you keep at it and finish school, maybe you'll be a detective someday," he finished with a smile.

The rapid change in the kid's features made Greg's smile falter.

"What?" Greg asked him, curious as to why that seemed to trouble Sherlock.

"That's not…" Sherlock tapered off with a frown. "That's not what people normally say when they find out about my interest in the macabre," he finished quietly.

"What do they normally say?" Greg asked him, floored that other people had been so dismissive of the teen's insights.

"Freak."

Greg frowned at the answer. Kids were harsh. Hell, adults could be cruel. He couldn't wrap his mind around why someone would put this brilliant kid down.

"Well, don't listen to them, Sherlock," he told the kid sincerely. "Look," he paused for a moment to pull his wallet out, "here's my card. If you need anything, just give me a ring. And I mean anything. I have connections with places that help at-risk youth," he pointed to the kid's ratted backpack on the bench. "It was nice to meet you," he finished and stuck his hand out, happy that there was no hesitation before it was met with another firm shake.

He gave one last nod in Sherlock's direction before turning to head back to the crime scene. He hoped the kid would take him up on his offer. He just wished that the boy's luck would change soon. Life on the streets was no place for a smart kid like him. At the very least, Greg would make a report of him to child services. With any luck, they could follow up with the kid and help Sherlock more than Greg could.

"You should try looking for his string of secret lovers."

Greg stopped in his tracks. That was an oddly specific suggestion, he thought to himself. He slowly turned back to stare at Sherlock who was still hovering by the park bench. He looked mildly concerned that he had said something wrong.

"Excuse me?" Greg asked him, making his way to close the short distance back to the kid.

Sherlock took a deep breath before explaining, "He's been having an affair with a string of lovers for quite some time. All male, and possibly prostitutes," he started, growing more and more confident with each passing word. "With the most recent one having grown an unhealthy attachment to the victim, and was not okay with getting cast to the side."

Greg stood where he was, staring dumbfounded at the teenager before him. "Did you know the victim?" he asked, beginning to wonder if the kid hadn't been exactly truthful about his statement.

Sherlock shook his head in the negative.

"Then how could you possibly know all of that?" Greg asked him, not comprehending how Sherlock had been able to make those conclusions.

Sherlock merely shrugged his shoulders, "I observed it."

Greg looked on skeptically at the kid but was interrupted by officer Donovan's voice calling to him from the scene below.

"Lestrade!"

Greg turned back towards her voice and saw Officer Donovan waving for him to come back over. He waved in acknowledgment and turned his attention to the lanky teen.

He gave the kid a scrutinizing gaze before speaking again, "Meet me back at this bench at seven tonight," Greg instructed, pointing to the said park bench.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, confused and suddenly on guard.

Greg smiled at him. "Don't you want to know if you were right or not?" he finished with a smirk that seemed to throw the kid off. And with that, he turned to head back to the crime scene, leaving a very stunned Sherlock in his wake.