CHAPTER 5: The Forlorn Inspector

October 2010

She knew it before Sherlock said anything. She wasn't the youngest DI for nothing. She was smart enough to piece the evidence together. His words outside the crime scene merely confirmed her suspicions.

Dr. Joan Watson was the shooter. She knew from the moment she saw Sherlock's new flat mate on the crime scene. She understood when Sherlock stopped talking and made a dash for the young woman, throwing the orange blanket inside the police vehicle on the way.

''Oh, she is a lovely young lady, Dr. Watson. Did you know, she came back from Afghanistan just a few days ago.'', Mrs. Hudson had said just before the police burst into 221B scaring the poor woman. But Sherlock had gotten it too far.

When Jenny saw a very familiar black car coming into a halt in front of Sherlock she left the crime scene, informing her Sergeant that she would be at the Yard sorting the paperwork. Sally had objected, saying she should come with the others down the pub to celebrate the end of the three week chase and leave the paperwork for tomorrow. Lestrade had wished them a good evening and had left, saying that she rather do it now.

In truth, she wanted to stay alone.

Jenny was all alone in the Yard, apart from the security guard downstairs. The only source of light inside her small office was that coming from her bright laptop screen. She was currently writing a speech for the press conference tomorrow. She had to explain somehow how the cabbie was shot and who did it.

The coffee machine at the corridor, outside the office, was making a soft cooing sound which didn't seem to calm her down. She sipped her cool coffee and immediately spat it back in the paper cup.

''I'll have to bring my own coffeemaker.'', she mumbled and opened her drawer. She picked a packet of mint flavored gums and started chewing a piece, in order to get rid of the taste of stale coffee.

She stopped tapping and sighed, bringing her face to her hands. ''What do I have to do?'', she whined. The reason for her exasperation was no other than Dr. Watson. On one hand she knew that if the woman hadn't shot the cabbie, Sherlock would be now dead. On the other hand she had a job to do.

She sighed again, this time angrily. She would never admit it to Sherlock or anyone, because it was her idea in the first place.

She would never admit how it killed her inside, day by day, that Sherlock was solving the cases so easily.

She didn't want him in this one. This was her case, she was the one in charge, she was the one who was not sleeping for the past three weeks to solve it and here comes Sherlock and has the killer in less than ten hours. She loved Sherlock with all her heart, he was her friend. She also liked him as a flat mate, although she would occasionally find severed fingers next to the carton of ice cream. But she couldn't stop the feelings she had every time he marched to the crime scenes having the solution in seconds. It killed her more than anyone could ever imagine. The feeling was eating her insides slowly and she was afraid that one day she would hate him for that.

Because if Sherlock did this Consulting Detective job to keep his mind occupied and clean, she did this job because it was her life and the sole stable thing she had at this point. And Sherlock threatened to take it away from her.

She yawned again.

Insomnia, the wretched curse of every detective.

But unlike detective stories and shows it wasn't something that made the detectives have an epiphany while lying on their beds, smoking and looking at the ceiling, listening to jazz music. Oh no! It was a never ending sleepy state, which made her eyes burn, her brain fuzzy and her cravings for cigarettes greater than ever. It was a constant marathon of weariness and an endless fight to control her nerves.

''I see my brother's harem is expanding.'', said a familiar voice, making her jump almost falling from her chair.

''Damn you Holmes! Don't you ever knock?'', cried Jenny.

He shrugged lightly. ''Doors are always open for me so I don't find it necessary.'', he smiled, making Jenny roll her eyes at the comment. ''Either way I don't think you would have heard me, you were too busy thinking of a very important matter.''

''And how would you know?'', she said darkly.

Mycroft tutted. ''Please Inspector, don't insult me like that. I am a Holmes after all. My brother is not the only one with the ability of deduction. In fact, I am the one who taught him everything, although he has probably erased that small detail from his mind.'', he continued while examining her, as much as the desk between them allowed. ''You avoided me at the crime scene.''

''You don't say.'', she mocked and turned her gaze to the screen again.

He chuckled, making her turn to look at him again. ''Do I amuse you so much?''

''Quite.''

''At least someone is having fun.'', she muttered. ''So, how I can help you?''

The smile on his face disappeared and he made himself more comfortable at the chair. He smoothed some wrinkles on his tailored trousers and spoke. ''I understand you have the intention of informing your superiors about the shooter.''

Jenny laced her fingers together. ''That is correct. It's my duty.''

''I suggest for your own sake, not to do it.''

Jenny's head tilted to her right side. ''Are you threatening me Holmes?'', she asked.

Mycroft drummed his fingers on the handle of his umbrella absentmindedly. ''Merely a friendly warning. I'm quite fond of you and I wouldn't want to see you fail again.'', he smirked, making her narrow her eyes.

''I'm sorry… fail?''

''The cabbie case Inspector.'', he smiled sly.

''We caught the guy.'', she said and at the same time squished her hands tightly together that her nails started digging in her soft flesh.

''Ah yes, indeed you did. But you are aware that without my baby brother's help you would be still lost. Isn't that after all what you were thinking mere minutes ago? It truly must be a torture watching Sherlock doing everything so easily.'', he replied the smirk still adorning his face.

She swallowed. Great! Now Mycroft bloody Holmes was calling her unworthy. Just perfect!

''I don't care about fame Holmes, I merely want the bad guys behind bars.'', she replied as calm as she could manage and closed her laptop's lid.

He nodded. ''If you say so. But anyway, you know perfectly well that even if you do report Dr. Watson, she would not serve any time. She saved a person after all. You, on the other hand, will appear as the bad guy! You know how reporters love these kind of things.''

''Yeah, whatever.'', mumbled Jenny and got up, collecting her belongings. ''Are we done?'', she said as she put her coat on.

''For now.'', he smiled, watching her as she left the office in a hurry. ''And Inspector.'', he said making her stop at the threshold.

She turned slowly to look at him. ''What?'', she asked tiredly.

''Try not to get too drunk this time.'', he said.

Jenny left without a single word. ''Perfect.'', she thought as she climbed down the stairs.

The next day Sherlock appeared in her office with Dr. Watson following him. There wasn't any case that he would be interested in, merely some domestic violence cases, but nevertheless he appeared.

He sat himself in a chair in front of her desk demanding a case.

''Well I'm sorry Sherlock, but we don't have anything at the moment. I can handle myself pretty well.'', Jenny merely said and turned her gaze back to some case files.

''Can you?'', asked Sherlock and Jenny knew he wasn't referring to the cases. He had obviously spotted the dark circles under her eyes, which she had tried to conceal with make-up.

''Mhm.'', she said and raised her head to look at Joan who was inspecting the two of them with her bright blue eyes. The doctor saw the DI looking at her and smiled, extending her hand in salute.

''Joan Watson.''

Jenny got up and shook her hand. ''Jenny Lestrade. Sorry for not introducing myself properly yesterday.''

''No worries.'', smiled the young woman.

Then Sherlock started rumbling something about a cat and some rat poison, which gave Jenny the chance to make her observations.

About the same age as Sherlock maybe even a year or two younger than him. Golden complexion, sandy blonde long hair styled in a Dutch braid and deep blue eyes. She was wearing a cream colored jumper with a black jacket on top of it, a knee length deep blue skirt and black flat shoes. She was a few inches shorter than her, with a slim figure, yet you could see the lines of her compact physique, but something in her air and manners did not indicate that she had been in the Army. She was really sweet, her face was pleasant and beautiful and her character so far rather nice.

''Lestrade, if you finished looking at Joan, can I have a word with you?'', Sherlock's voice snapped her back to attention.

Jenny snorted. ''You haven't been doing anything different since you got here.''

Joan chuckled, earning a disapproving glare from Sherlock, which she didn't seem to mind. ''Yet another person who can handle him.'', thought Jenny amused.

''Joan would you mind waiting outside?'', asked Sherlock politely.

''Alright. We should hang out sometime.'', said Joan addressing to Lestrade.

''That would be lovely. Here's my card.'', said Jenny, passing a little white piece of paper to the doctor.

''Great! I'll be outside.''

When Joan left Sherlock turned to look at her dead serious. ''I believe that your knowledge of certain events will remain secret.''

Jenny furrowed her eyebrows. ''I don't understa-''

''You understand perfectly well Lestrade.'', Sherlock cut her off, ''I know you are aware of the shooter, which frankly surprises me.'', he said. ''I simply want it to remain a secret.''

Jenny remained silent. Clearly Sherlock wanted to protect Joan which made Jenny's heart flutter. Sherlock was showing genuine feelings for a person at last. She smiled. ''I made a decision yesterday.''

Sherlock tried to deduce her next move but seemed unable to.

''I won't say a thing. After all we should actually thank Joan for saving you, not put her behind bars. And I won't mention anything to the press conference either. I will simply say that we investigate certain people of his past. The matter will die down in a week.''

Sherlock stood up and headed for the door. ''Don't drink too much tonight.'', he said before he dashed of the office, leaving Jenny frozen to her seat.

Of course this was Sherlock. He already knew that she got wasted yesterday night, curled to her favorite armchair, crying like a frightened child. She was also certain that he will have a visit from Mycroft commenting on the event sooner or later. That man had a very weird sense of humor, since he found it amusing to humiliate and insult her at every meeting they had.

She shook her head to make the images of last night go away and continued with her work. This day had started bad and it was the beginning of an even worse week. Although that was something she didn't know. Not yet.

Three days later

Jenny had just entered her office and was ready to start doing the necessary paperwork of yesterday's cases about three robberies at three book shops.

She had armed herself with a big travel mug full of coffee, since she couldn't taste the horrid coffee of the Yard again and some cookies.

The moment she had made herself comfortable in her warm office her mobile rang.

With a groan she picked it up. ''Lestrade.''

It was her Sergeant. ''Murder at the Highgate Cemetery. You better come and see it... it's... well come.''

Sally had sounded quite distressed over the phone. So Jenny said bye-bye to her cozy, quiet day at the office and put her coat on.

She reached the cemetery and started walking to find her team at the west wing. She was pacing carefully since the ground was still wet from yesterday's rain. Jenny had been here only twice in her life as a tourist and yet this place made her feel awe and horror at the same time. And this time she was sure it would cause her horror and that it would plague her dreams for quite some time. That was if she managed to get some sleep in the first place.

She finally found her team, which had circled a tomb. Sally, who heard her footsteps, turned. She looked paler than usual and she handed Jenny some rubber gloves, stepping aside for her DI to approach the body.

On a grave there was a woman stark naked with a wooden stake pierced through her heart. In her mouth you could see a red cloth that was used to gag her. Her hands were falling limp to her sides and her legs were slightly open, something that made Jenny wince.

''Please, let not this be a rape.'', she thought. An expression of true horror had disfigured the woman's face and Jenny bit her inner cheek in order not to calm down. So many years in this job and she still felt vulnerable. But some things, like this for example, were far more gruesome than necessary.

''Time to think like a detective.'', she thought and dug over the body. She put her humanity aside and put her rubber gloves on, rearranged her black scarf around her neck, so it didn't get in the way and started examining the body.

She looked the woman from head to toe and stopped in her wide open eyes. The green orbs were piercing through Jenny's soul, even if they were lifeless. The woman's ebony hair seemed soft to the touch and fanned her head perfectly. The poor girl's death pale skin matched the slightly dirty marble of the tomb she was placed at. Such a beautiful woman, young and so full of life.

Jenny clenched her teeth. Which bastard decided that had the right to cut the thread of this girl's life, in such a gruesome way?

''Ma'am? Are you alright?'', said Sally from behind.

''Time of death?'', Jenny asked firmly.

''About two in the morning.'', replied Anderson. ''The cold weather preserved the body in good condition or else it would have started to smell. No sexual assault, no signs of fighting. I sent a blood sample and wait for a toxicology report. She was probably drugged.''

''Not so sure.'', mumbled Jenny. ''You can see her expression. She clearly saw it, but there are no signs of struggle.''

''The drugs might have paralyzed her body, not her brain.''

Jenny sighed. Whoever did this, wanted the poor woman to see it. She then turned her attention to the cloth. She touched it lightly to feel its texture.

''Silk.'', she thought ''Weird.''

''Donovan, pass me a two pens please.'', she said and Sally responded quickly. Jenny held the thin plastic pens between her fingers like chopsticks and slowly, with careful motions, removed the cloth from the victim's mouth.

''Well... this gives us a clue.'', she said to her team when she revealed the sharpened fangs. ''Any identification?''

''No.'', said Sally. ''No ID, no bag, no clothes, nothing. Some tourists found her. I guess we should look amongst the Gothic and Vampire clubs.'', she shrugged.

''Maybe the ones who killed her were members of the Van Helsing Coven, bound by oath to kill every creature of the night!'', said Jenny dramatically, causing a fit of giggles amongst the team. If there was a passerby, he would say how insensitive this was, laughing over the body of a dead woman. But it wasn't out of disrespect to the victim. It was the dark, sick humor someone had to adopt if he or she worked on cases like this. It was humor or madness and Jenny preferred to keep her brain intact.

Suddenly Nathan, one of her team's Alsatians, started barking and running fast to a completely different direction of the cemetery. Jenny sprang, throwing the pens on the ground and started running behind him, while the others stayed with the body.

Nathan was running to the east wing of the cemetery, while barking like mad. Jenny almost fell from the scattered rocks and muddy ground, but kept running and hoped that the dog had found a clue and not just wanted to play games. Momentarily she lost him, but heard him again. She started running where the barking came from.

Her lungs burned as she kept running, while at the same time, leaves and twigs got in her face. After a fairly long sprint she caught up with the dog and run behind it. A rather sharp twig got in her eye.

''Fuck!'', she cursed, pressing her hand over her sore eye. But this was not the end. As she closed both her eyes she slipped and fell, face first, to the point of what appeared to be a small iron banister fence. The result was a deep scratch from her cheekbone to her jaw line on her right cheek..

She groaned from the pain loudly and reluctantly opened her eyes. The groan turned into a scream of terror when she realized that in front of Karl Marx's tomb was another woman like the first victim, only this one had her eyes popped out of their sockets, hanging from thin nerve tissues. Nathan was sniffing the body and the tomb.

''Sally!'', shouted Jenny and after a while Sally, Anderson and some paramedics of the team appeared breathless from behind.

''Lestrade are you alright?'', cried Sally, when she saw her bleeding DI.

''Why the Hell didn't you check the whole Graveyard? Are you completely useless?'', shouted Jenny hysterically to her teammates, momentarily forgetting her pain.

''But there was no sign... no one saw anything... the dogs didn't get...'', was Sally's weak apology, before she backed away from Jenny and promptly threw up.

''Lestrade.'', called Anderson who had already dug over the body. ''She... the body was damned just now.''

''What?'', she shouted impatiently. She was still on the ground, her face red from the blood.

''She has been dead for only half an hour. She is still warm. The body was damped just now.''

With a speed she didn't know she possessed, Jenny picked her phone from her coat's pocket and called for backup.

''We need backup at the Highgate Cemetery! Now! Circle the whole place!'', she shouted.

A paramedic was already above her tending on her bleeding wound.

''Leave that and find everything you can!'', shouted Jenny.

''You're in shock Ma'am, just calm down.'', replied the woman calmly, holding both of Jenny's arms.

''Fucking get away from me!'', cried Jenny and started kicking, 'till she felt a cold needle piercing her wrist.

That was the only thing she remembered.

Press conferences. Jenny hated them. She didn't hate the reporters, they merely did their job, but the whole thing was like the Yard was the circus, they were the visitors and she was the human curiosity.

Meet Detective Inspector Genevieve Lestrade, the most capable Inspector the Yard can offer!

The vision of Sherlock dressed in a frock coat and a top hat, while waving his black cane around flashed before her eyes and Jenny coughed to suppress a giggle.

Camera, lights, funfair music! All these played in Jenny's mind constantly, as she explained the case to the hungry reporters. God, it was like the cabbie case all over again, except for Sherlock's messages.

Sherlock. His voice was all over her head, telling her that she needed him, that he would solve the case in seconds.

''Not this time.'', she thought. She had to prove that she was worth a damn.

''Now you can state your questions.'', announced Jenny and the performance started.

The verdict was three bodies, all female, all in their twenties, all with sharpen canines and all killed in the same manner apart from the mutilation of the eyes and ears of the second and third victim.

''New Highgate Hysteria?'',Jenny heard Greg Fielding reciting. ''Is there another dark creature lurking around the grounds of the notorious cemetery? DI Genevieve Lestrade, formerly known for the Taxi Driver Case, says that these attacks have nothing to do with supernatural creatures or cults, but that they are the work of a diseased mind, trying to confuse the people of London and the authorities.'', he finished and threw the paper gently on her desk.

''Why, oh why, do I have to sound so stupid in press conferences?'', she sighed, picking the newspaper and falling back to her chair. She looked at her photo, which was in the front page of the paper.

''No worries. Just catch the guy and you'll be fine. If you ask me, this will bring further tourism in our city!'', he smirked.

''Then the Mayor must thank me.'', she replied grimly.

Her DCI smirked and chewed a cookie from the packet Jenny had brought this morning. Looking at it now, she recalled how calm her morning was and how it turned out to be. With three bodies and a busted cheek.

''I'm getting old.'', she mumbled.

''You're not thirty-six yet, it's hardly old.'', he smiled.

''I feel old.'', she sighed, rubbing her bandaged cheek lightly. ''Which is worse than getting older. Do you know that I have actually some grey roots behind my ears?''

Greg chuckled.

''It's not funny!''

Fielding smiled compassionately. ''Just catch the murderer, ok? You'll feel better.'', he said and with that he left the office, leaving Jenny to her contemplations.

It was nine o'clock in the evening and Jenny was still at her office, looking at the pictures intently. Thankfully there was no message from Sherlock which meant that he was already occupied. Unfortunately no one had come to the Yard to identify the victims.

Jenny had conducted a list with some clubs she would start her investigations. That was the way with unidentified victims. You had to search a lot, in random places.

She was now holding the close ups to their faces. Same horror in their eyes, same teeth, same hair, same eyes. ''There must be a connection.'', she mumbled. ''Not an obvious one, but...''

''Oh!'', she exclaimed suddenly. ''Of course! See no Evil, Hear no Evil, Speak no Evil! The three wise monkeys!'', she said and smiled. She took down some notes to her Moleskin.

''So the murderer has a grudge on the Vampire subculture and likes Japanese sayings.'', she thought. ''At least that's a clue, although small.''

She opened her desk drawer to find her nicotine patches, but instead she found a packet of her favorite cigarettes and a note on it.

''Damn you, Holmes!'', she growled and tore the note. She quickly got up, took the package in her hands and threw it in the bin along with old reports. She then took the folded note in her hands and read.

A gift. – MH

''Sod you and your gifts.'', she muttered and tear the little piece of paper.

It was ten p.m. when she found herself in the bar's bathroom. She was splashing cold water in her face. The dark circles had started making their appearance again under her tired eyes. The cold, unforgiving light of the rest room made her look even more gaunt. She slowly took the bandage off to inspect the wound. It was bad. Red and swollen, but thankfully it wouldn't leave any scar. She already felt ugly and undesirable to worry about looking like Scarface.

Next to her three women were giggling, as they commented on some guys they met and apparently were in a dilemma if they should follow them to their place or not.

One of them was eyeing Jenny through the mirror as she covered her luscious lips with pink lipstick. Jenny left the bathroom and the bimbos, hearing them commenting on her appearance just as she was about to close the door.

She sipped her second tequila shot leaning with her back against the bar counter, so she could observe the crowd inside the venue.

Smoke, alcohol, sweat, cheap and expensive perfumes. Those were the smells inside the place and they grew stronger by the minute, as people danced to the rhythm of Hardest of Hearts by Florence and the Machine.

The lovely dizzy euphoria she felt after a bottle of wine and tequila was magnificent and it seemed to be the only thing that could make her calm at this point.

She lit a cigarette. The delicious smoke that curled to her lips felt like medicine. Her first cigarette in three years. How could such a small, slim stick seem like Heaven in her eyes, she didn't know. It seems that nothing could compare with the deadly smoke that filled her lungs after so long.

She felt peaceful as she blew the smoke. Some of it got in her eye, making it water, but she didn't actually cared. She wiped it with a napkin, the sting sharp in her sensitive eye, but she didn't care. Anything to drive the ghosts of those three women away, the looks the reporters gave her and the sly smile of a certain posh man.

''Are you alone?'', she heard a male voice next to her. She turned and saw a man smiling to her.

''Yeah.'', she replied nonchalantly and averted her gaze to the crowd again.

''Would you like me to buy you a drink?'', continued the man and Jenny turned once again to look at him. Brunette, about the same age as her, with nice eyes hidden behind glasses that were fogged from smoke, sweat and heat. The man kept smiling and Jenny sighed.

''Look, erm… don't waste your time with me. Thanks anyway.'', she said and turned her gaze to her left again.

The man left without further conversation. The last thing she wanted was to engage in small talk with a complete stranger and then have a one night stand that will leave both of them in an awkward situation the next morning.

She grinded the cigarette in the ashtray next to her and left. She pushed her way to the exit, trying not to get hit by the hands and elbows of the people around her.

She breathed deeply the cold air of London night as soon as she got out of the club. She was way too hammered to drive and so she decided to take a cab.

After she had fiddled for quite some time with the small pocket of her black trousers she found the gums she was searching for. She started chewing a piece, to get rid of the mingled tastes of wine, tequila and smoke that tainted her mouth and started walking as straight as possible.

People. Going in bars, restaurants, family gatherings. Heels clacking on the wet pavement, till they found their destination. People passed next to her not noticing how drunk she was .

A man pushed her through the crowd and Jenny almost lost her balance. She was now pacing along the bars and clubs, trying to find a taxi.

She passed an alley where she heard moans of pleasure mixed with Placebo's Pure Morning, from the bar where the couple had obviously come.

Jenny tucked her gloved hands inside her coat's pockets and walked faster. She walked a little while and finally saw something that might have been a cab. She wasn't quite sure her eyes were a bit foggy.

She saw however the sleek black car that pulled next to her.

The tinted window rolled down and Anthea's head popped from inside.

''Good evening, Inspector. Would you be so kind as to get inside?'', she asked.

''I can't handle your boss right now. Don't you see that I'm drunk?'', she whined. The last thing she needed was Mycroft Holmes deducing her entire evening.

''You know you have no choice, don't you.'', smiled the PA.

Jenny gave her a look of disdain. She hated that woman so much right now. ''Fine!'', she cried and opened the door with force, getting inside.

They reached an abandoned building far from the centre of the city. Jenny wasn't even sure if they were in London anymore. During the ride, she had placed her head against the cool glass of the window and must have taken a nap. Anthea's voice woke her up and she yawned loudly.

''We have arrived. Mr. Holmes is waiting you inside.'', she said. With that she picked her phone and started tapping.

Jenny didn't respond and got out of the car, stretching her back which made a satisfying cracking sound.

When she got inside the building she realized she was standing in the foyer of an abandoned theatre. She rolled her eyes at the picture she saw in front of her.

Mycroft was sitting at a chair dressed in a tuxedo with his expensive coat on top of it. His legs were crossed, he had his right hand lightly placed on his knees and the other one placed on the table next to him, his long fingers drumming rhythmically on the wooden surface.

Jenny snorted. ''What? No umbrella tonight?''

He merely smiled. ''Good evening to you too, Inspector. Please, have a seat.'', he said politely and motioned to the empty chair opposite him.

Jenny sighed angrily and walked to sit there. When she sat, she noticed a manila folder on the table which was quite thick, probably filled with papers and pictures. She eyed the envelope curiously.

''This is for you.'', he said tapping the folder twice.

''Really? How kind!'', she replied sarcastically. ''You could have popped into my office and leave it there, not drag me in God knows where! But I forget you have to keep the charade going.''

Mycroft didn't seem amused. ''Bad day, Genevieve?''

At the sound of her name Jenny narrowed her eyes. ''Don't call me by my name.'', she said grimly and averted her gaze to her right. She saw a box office which seemed to have been red. She wasn't sure, the color had faded and the wood, of which it was manufactured, was now ruined.

''Why not.'', she heard the soft voice of Mycroft. ''It's a beautiful name. I actually wonder why you let people butcher it the way they do. 'Jen' hardly does you justice.''

''I don't want you to call me by my name because we're strangers and I'd like it to keep it that way.''

There was stillness for a while. Jenny kept on looking at her surroundings. This foyer must have been full of life. People roaming around till the show started. The posters on the walls were still visible. She sighed as she imagined all that fading slowly into nothingness. It kind of reminded her.

''You think too much.'', Mycroft said bringing her back to reality.

''I didn't know it was forbidden.'', she snorted.

''I can practically hear your thoughts. They are complicated but not unreadable.'', he smirked.

Jenny looked him through tired eyes and scratched her cheek only to wince from the pain her nails caused on the sore wounded surface.

''You started smoking again.''

''It doesn't take a genius to notice this. Anyway you're the one to blame for this.''

''Me?'', he asked amused. ''Why me?''

''You're the one who gave me the package!''

''I don't recall giving you any cigarette package.'', he continued.

''Yeah right.'', she said and took the say package from her trousers' pocket. She put one between her lips and lit it with her silver Zippo. ''Look Holmes.'', she sighed, rubbing her right eye with her ring finger. ''I'm dizzy, tired and in pain, so tell me what you want so I can go to my lovely house and cozy bed.'', she said tiredly.

''Very well Inspector. I brought you here because I want you to investigate a certain person… a certain woman.''

Jenny scratched the back of her neck and yawned. ''Right. Do you need me as a DI, or is this off the record?''

He smirked. ''Off the record.''

''Then go to your brother.'', she said with spite and got up.

''Lestrade sit down.'', he said firmly, giving her a look of pure exasperation.

Jenny smirked. She threw the half finished cigarette on the marble floor and stomped on it. ''Do I make you angry ?"

''Your audacity vexes me very much, indeed.'', he replied in a calmer tone, rearranging his coat. ''Sit down.''

''I'd rather stand up.''

''Suit yourself.'', he said smoothly. That man could change his mood so quickly that it was actually terrifying. ''As I was saying I want you to investigate a certain woman.''

''And as I said go to Sherlock. If you do not require my capacity as a DI then go to a private investigator. I have a very challenging case to solve and I can't be bothered with your little games. Good night!.'', she said and moved to the exit.

''The Fourth Monkey.'', he called and Jenny stopped.

She turned to see him standing. ''What?''

''See no Evil, Hear no Evil, Speak no Evil. There is a fourth monkey. Do no Evil.''

He turned and looked at the folder. ''I suggest that if you don't want to find a fourth body with her arms cut off, accept the case. Put your stubbornness aside and for once in your life listen to me. I have told you since the first day we met to choose the right allies. You haven't, but there is still time.''

Jenny sighed angrily. She didn't want to act like his bloody personal agent, but she definitely didn't want to find another dead woman and if Mycroft was right, which he probably was, she would never forgive herself for turning down evidence just to vex him. She slowly approached him and took the file in her hands. She fiddled with it but didn't open it. ''Why don't you go to your brother?'', she asked with genuine curiosity.

''I'm afraid that Sherlock will be… troubled.'', he sighed.

''Sherlock? Troubled?''

He gave her a look which pretty much said. ''I hate repetition, don't be so stupid.''

''Yes Inspector, troubled. Sherlock is an extraordinary human being, but I'm afraid that he will trip.''

''Fine.'', she sighed and rubbed her eyes. By now her sleep was long gone and it seemed that it would be yet another sleepless night.

''You're not well.'', stated Mycroft.

''No kidding!'', she mocked.

''Sarcasm isn't the solution to everything.''

''It helps me quite a lot these last years.''

''Did it helped you when you found your husband with your best friend?''

She gripped the folder in her arms tightly. ''Holmes, don't get it too far.'', she warned.

''It must have been a great failure and disappointment to find the two most important people in your life betraying you in such a way. I mean, I myself don't have many friends but I can perfectly understand the pain they must have caused you.''

''Holmes stop it.'', she growled.

''A piece of you must have shattered. You felt unworthy, your trust in people has been shaken and as a result you turned to sarcasm and wine. Pitiable if you ask me.'', he smiled triumphantly.

''Shut up!'', she growled. ''Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what's going on in my head. Don't try to deduce me and don't pity me!''

''Unfortunately you are a pitiable sight.'', he simply stated.

Jenny looked at him with wide eyes. Her mouth was slightly parted and she was panting slightly. She nodded absently. ''Then why do you ask for my help?''

''I feel generous these days. I'm merely giving you a hand. You will find certain things about this woman that will help your investigation and will also help me.''

''You know what?'', she said and dropped the file on the table. ''Sod off! I will find it myself. I don't need your help.''

''Don't you? Because if I understand correctly you haven't even got a clue where this case is going.'', he said, the level of his voice slowly rising.

''I do my job perfectly well! I don't need your help or your insults!'', she cried.

''Really?'', he asked and this time he approached, towering over her, his blue eyes piercing her brown ones with cruelty.

Jenny felt genuinely scared at this point. ''Back off Holmes.'', she warned.

He chuckled darkly. ''I have faced many people like you. Intimidating but scary little children on the inside. And do you know how they ended up?''

''Don't threaten me.'', she growled, trying to fight back the tears that burned the back of her eyes, threatening to come forward.

''Accept my case!''

''I'd rather shoot myself in the face, you prick!''

''Careful now. No need to insult me.''

''Or what? You will punish me?'', she mocked. ''You know what you remind me of Holmes? A spoiled brat that his parents' don't make him all his favors.''

''Don't tempt me, Inspector!''

''I bet you are not used to the word no, are you?''

''This is your last warning!''

''Or what Holmsie?'', she smirked.

Her smirk was wiped from her face the moment Mycroft brought his hand behind her neck and pulled her. Her face was mere inches from his, their lips almost touching. She could feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she understood she was not breathing.

She looked at him seeing his eyes black, the blue of his irises almost lost.

''I hate you.'', he whispered, his voice sounding broken, like he was in pain and with that he retrieved his hand. Before Jenny could grasp a hold on the situation he dashed of the place, shutting the main entrance with so much force, that the glass which decorated it, rattled dangerously.

Jenny stood there dumfounded. ''What the hell happened?'', she mumbled after a while. She sat at the chair her hands falling limp to her sides. ''He hates me?''

She didn't actually care what Holmes thought of her, but hate? She didn't like him. He considered him a posh, insufferable bastard, with a power complex and a big ego, but why would he hate her? She didn't like to be hated. Especially from a man who had the power of wiping her from the map of the earth in seconds.

After a few minutes that her wits were restored she saw the file on the table. With slow motions she opened the folder with her right hand and inside found pictures. She went through them quickly spreading them carefully on the table's round surface, 'till she reached the bottom one. She found three A4 sheets of paper and a name highlighted with bright yellow marker.

''Irene Adler.'', she mumbled.

People. Walking the streets, living their small, insignificant lives, unaware of the forces behind everything. Sometimes he was jealous of them.

Mycroft was sitting at his car, his PA next to him tapping at her phone. He looked at her and she raised her head.

''Your meeting with the Transport Minister has been rescheduled for tomorrow, at eleven a.m.'', she said.

''Excellent.'', he replied and picked the Blackberry from her hands, tossing it to the opposite seat. She gave him a devilish smirk and with that she covered the distance between them crushing their lips together, a moan of pleasure escaping her throat.

His desire had to be satisfied. She wasn't the one he wanted. She wasn't the one he craved for. But Anthea would suffice, at least for tonight.

I'm really sorry for the delay. I hope you like the new chapter. I know it's kind of depressing, but I really wanted to write something like a tribute to those noir, troubled, chain-smoker detectives we all love! It will soon be followed by a Mycroft-centric chapter, with my version of his ring! Last but not least, thank you for your reviews, alerts and favorites. Also the two songs and of course the characters mentioned above, do not belong to me. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story. :)