After 15 minutes, Sherlock locked his door and went back to the other building to meet the Detective Inspector and his 'team'. What sort of team was it? Local people who wanted to play detectives? Or police officers? If the latter, than this case definitely deserved Sherlock's attention.
When he entered the common room, he was surprised to see a familiar face among the 5 people there.
"Dimmock. What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, startled.
"Good evening, Sherlock. It's nice to see you, too." Dimmock wasn't even surprised to see him there. Apparently, his abrupt leave wasn't because of Sherlock's last 'scene', as the DI called it, but because of a new case. Did Dimmock know that sooner or later Sherlock was going to be involved? Not that he would care, Sherlock assumed.
"So you know each other. That's nice." said Lestrade and moved towards Sherlock to guide him in and close the door. "But you might not know the rest of us. Meet Sergeant Donovan." Lestrade waved towards the woman who burst through the door when they had entered the building earlier. Darker complexion, in her thirties, ruffled hair, exhausted, single – no, not single, though not in a relationship – lover, then.
"Sergeant." Sherlock nodded in greeting but he could see that this woman already had suspicions regarding him.
"Mr Holmes." Her voice was flat and impersonal, totally indifferent.
"Her cover is a water ski trainer." Lestrade continued and Sherlock needed all his willpower not to laugh out loud because even he knew that that would be terribly unacceptable.
"This is Anderson, he volunteered to help us gather information from the staff so he works with the pool cleaners." Oh God, you have got to be kidding me! Sherlock had at least thirty biting retorts to that. And he even volunteered! Stupid. But he didn't say a thing; he just put on his best neutral expression and shook the grouchy man's calloused hand. Early fourties, married, marriage in ruins, has a lover – perhaps Sgt. Donovan? - intelligence not above average.
"And here is Molly Hooper, she is with the event organizers. She feeds us with data about what happens, where and when and also about the attending guests." The mousy young woman held out her hand shyly and smiled up at Sherlock. Late twenties or early thirties, lives alone, has a cat, has few friends, desperate for a relationship.
"Miss Hooper." Sherlock took her hand and tried for one of his least fake smiles.
"Everyone, as I said, we have Sherlock Holmes here to help our work. He works as a consulting detective for Scotland Yard and has solved a few cases where our officers hit dead end." Lestrade strode next to Sherlock, but was careful not to touch him, so just lifted his hand to his back, leaving a few centimetres in between.
Few cases. More like a few dozen…
"What is it that you need my help with?" Sherlock was tired of the introduction and the mutual happiness and needed actual information.
"Okay, let's fill in Mr Holmes." Lestrade instructed and the others started rummaging with papers taken from a huge briefcase, turned on laptops and flat screen TVs, and pulled the curtains towards the hall closed.
"As you might know, we have a series of bank and casino robberies throughout the costal holiday resorts. The number - and I think I might add, so far – is two banks and three casinos, each in different cities." Lestrade started presenting the basic intel and tossed five folders towards Sherlock. He opened each one of them and read through the highlighted parts; all crimes had a similar plan – one person kept the clerk/security guard busy (presumably woman who disarmed them with her charm, added Sherlock to his mental notes); at least one person who was in the bank/casino when the robberies happened and provided help from the inside (possibly the leader of the team); and 4 or 5 men with firearms (no visual evidence for that) who carried out the actual robbery (legwork).
"The only person who was present every time is this man." A black-and-white security footage appeared on a TV screen and showed a sharply dressed man in an expensive suit and shoes. "This was taken at the night before the first casino robbery," Lestrade pointed at the date flicking at the corner of the screen.
The man on the picture was in his thirties (35th birthday in a couple of weeks), around 180 centimetres tall, darker fair hair (probably dark blonde), dark eyes (most likely blue or green), broad shoulder and tanned skin. His smile was dazzling; all white– could be seen even on a black-and-white picture – and perfect teeth. Two women in much-revealing clothes were hanging on his arms, grinding themselves to him.
"He checked in at the two hotels using the name Jimmy Carter. The receptionists both confirmed that he's American and has an American passport. He mostly played poker and lost around 2500€ at each place. He seemingly paid no attention to how much he was losing and played rather badly." It probably was not a coincidence, then, Sherlock thought.
"He stayed a couple of days before each robbery, and we suppose that he may plan to strike during the conference so we think he'll be here at the end of this week or maybe next week. The local police support us completely; they are to be mobilized at any time." Lestrade finished his summary and looked up at Sherlock, who was sitting in silence, in his thinking position – fingers forming a triangle under his chin.
"How many men do you have here to watch him?" Sherlock turned his attention back to the conversation and to Lestrade.
"Well, we all."
"You mean the six of us?" Sherlock suspected that there were just a few men to work for Lestrade here, but 6 people in a facility this big… It demanded more work for each of them than he was willing to sacrifice.
"Yes, Sherlock." Lestrade looked around in the room, eyed everyone and changed the subject. "And now some info about our jobs. As I said, Anderson works with the pool staff. They're mostly local teenagers. Donovan spends most of her days out on the sea, meeting guests and people who are not staying at the hotel. Molly, as I said, knows about all the events and the attendees. Dimmock is my right hand; he's with me in the security team. We have access to security footages, lists of phone calls and almost immediate background checks for the players at the casino – of those who have previous criminal records, of course."
"All well, but what is my job? Acting as the manager?" Sherlock knew his job would require his special observational skills and assumed that he would work inside the hotel. He was surprised beyond words when Lestrade told him, without any trace of mocking in his voice.
"You will be one of the lifeguards, of course. Perfect for collecting information from young women – and men – because who would not blabber about others to a young and fit man in swimming shorts." Lestrade was definitely smirking at the end of the sentence. Perfect.
"When you get back to your room, you'll find your uniform in your room. I will not accept any objections about it. Good night, Sherlock." And with that, Lestrade clutched the folders under his arms and left. The others followed suit, collecting everything and leaving Sherlock alone among the forest of empty chairs.
When he got back to his room, there was a package on his bed. He opened it with obvious doubt and peeked into the bag. A name tag sat on top of a bright red pair of board shorts with embroidery of the logo of the hotel. Ah, Mycroft was playing dirty. Making Sherlock wear these all day long. He just hoped no one would make embarrassing photos of him…