Three: Greg Lestrade

When I woke up, I was disoriented. I tried to sit up and I felt dizzy. It was six in the morning, I saw from the clock, but I couldn't tell what day it was. I looked out the window. I couldn't tell where I was. My jacket was laying across a chair. It was green. Last time I remember it was blue.

The next time I woke up, it was still dim and quiet. My jacket on the chair was blue again. It was a bit brighter outside the window. I didn't stay awake long enough to really take in anything. Where I was, who I was, what I was doing here...

The third time I woke up, my sister and my mom were there, and a doctor was looking over some papers. My mom looked exhausted, as if she hadn't slept in days. My sister looked a little better then my mom. My mother was the first to see me awake. "Alexandria!" she cried.

"Sis!" Maria exclaimed.

Mom leaned towards me and touched my hair. "Honey," she comforted, "you're alright. You're in the hospital. I'm so happy your awake. They weren't sure when you would wake up. Do you remember what happened?"

"I remember... my flat exploded. I made it out in time, but what about everyone else?"

"They... didn't make it. I'm sorry."

"Mom... Where exactly am I? What happened?"

"You're in St. Bart's hospital. You've been here for four days. You have a minor concussion in the back of your head. A rock or something that struck you."

"I've been unconscious for four days? I have to get back to work!"

"The police have decided to give you some time off. About a month to heal. When they saw that it was you who was injured, they insisted you take time off."

"Mom, I can't. I have to work-"

"Just live with me, Ally. Until you get enough for your own flat, and until your head heals."

"Detective Inspector-" I started to get up, "Where is he?"

"Working, Ally. What do you want him for?"

"I want to work, Mom. I can't just sit here. I feel fine."

"You're not fine, Sweetie. Your back is all torn up. They gave you lots of pain medication."

"It should be wearing off in a few minutes." Doctor Koch said, "Every time your medication was about to wear off, you would wake up, but only for a couple of minutes. I'll go get some now." He turned and left the room.

"Mom. I need to talk to the Detective Inspector." I said, "I was wrong. I know who did it. I-it wasn't Mira. It was Harriet."

"I'll tell him, Ally."

"No, mom. I have to tell him myself. Phone." I asked. I could hear my own voice. It was weak and shaking. I must have taken a hit. My mom reached over to my jacket and pulled my cell phone from my pocket. She handed it to me and I snatched it away from her. Fifteen percent battery. I can't believe it lasted four days. Maybe Mom charged it. I quickly entered the Detective Inspector's number, and let it ring.

"Alexis." he said on the other end when he picked up, "Why are you calling me? You're in the hospital with a concussion."

"Two explosions, D.I." I said. I call him D.I. all the time. I'm the only one who does, "There were two explosions. The second one threw a rock at my head. Harriet does two explosions every time. Mira only does one. Harriet tried to kill me."

"Right. You're right. Sherlock Holmes already figured it out. We're holding her."

"Holmes? Sherlock Holmes was on a case involving my flat?"

"He jumped in at the end. He saw the email you sent. He was very impressed with your work, but once he heard that your flat exploded, he realized that Harriet was involved, too." My mother and my sister exchanged glances before standing up and leaving the room, leaving me be.

"He stole another case." I cried, "He always steals my cases."

"Not all of them, Alex." I heard the pity in my voice. I felt like all of these people think that I'm out of it. I was right, though. I'm always right. My second year, my first one as a detective, and by far the most dangerous case I've ever done, I solved a case with a 102.3 fever and I was one hundred percent correct. Not one flaw. Well, except for the fact that I passed out, literally, once I finished my speech.

"Well, most of them. He just doesn't realize that I'm good. He has to realize that I can handle it." The nurse came in and gave me my medication.

"You'll be out in ten minutes, Crystal." she said, then left the room.

"He probably realizes it. He finished the case because you were unconscious. If you would have been awake, it would have been you, I promise."

"D.I.," I sighed, "Please, can I work? I mean, when I get out of the hospital. Not now."

"I won't let you. You have a concussion, Alex!"

"Do you remember the Bloomingdale case?" I asked.

"Yes... yes I do."

"I had a fever, Lestrade. I walked two blocks to the crime scene to tell you who did it with a fever. Did I get it right?"

"Yes. You did."

"This stupid concussion is nothing." I said, "Give me a word problem. One I haven't heard."

"What is the sentence that had ninety two letters, one comma and a single question mark." I thought for about ten seconds.

"This is not really a puzzle, merely a curious and clever piece of text." I said, "The question mark is in your head. Like, what?" I dragged out the vowel

Lestrade was silent. I could hear him breathing. We just listened for a few minutes to each others breathing. I wanted to work. Then, he said, "This is the second time this has happened. This must be traumatic for you."

"It is the second time this has happened to me. If it was traumatic for me, I would be laying here clutching my head, crying. I'm talking to you instead, aren't I. I'm more upset at you and the damn Sherlock Holmes then anyone else."

"Alex. I'm not letting you work. Get over it." he hung up without another word.

"Lestrade!" I screamed, then cried out in anger.

The next day, I was still wasn't happy that Sherlock kept stealing my cases and that I wasn't allowed to work. I should have known that Sherlock was going to steal my case. The moment I went out of commission, he was right on it. He would swoop in and save the day, solving the case in an instant. Damn Sherlock Holmes.

I was beginning to think I hated him. I've only met him once and I see it. The way he'll smirk at you when he knows that you know he's right is so irritating. The think I did see as cute was the shocked look on his face when he couldn't think of any thing to say back to me. I grinned at that thought. I had that image of his face in my mind like it was yesterday.

He didn't like me. I could tell. I mean, he stole my number so I could translate for him, but that was for work purposes. He didn't like me. Maybe we did flirt, but nowadays, everyone flirts. It's no new thing. He hasn't called yet, though. I would have seen it if he had.

To him, I suddenly realized, I was still Jessica Hannes. I don't like the name, so I would tell him my name was Crystal Greene. It's my second name, really. I use it for everything I don't trust. If mom hadn't decided on Alexandria, she would have named me after her Great Aunt Crystal. She died twenty four years ago, a year after I was born.

What I'll do is apologize for putting a fake name on my job application and and name tag. You see my "boss" was killed and I didn't want to be involved. It was frightening. That's what I'll tell him- Oh, speak of the devil... my phone is ringing.

Yesterday, my mom brought her emergency phone charger. We have the same kind of phone, so it's no problem. I held it, watching it charge. It's not like I could do anything else. Oh, it's Sherlock Holmes who's calling me. Lovely. "Hello?"

"Ah, Jessica Hannes. I see you're awake." he said.

"I'm speaking, aren't I? And in straight unfaltering sentences, too."

"And you are still phasing through languages, I see." I rolled me eyes. There was silence a moment.

"May I be perfectly honest?" I asked, "Because I'm afraid I haven't been very honest with you."

"How so?"

"My name isn't Jessica Hannes. It's Crystal Greene. I lied about my name for security reasons, you see. I heard about the museum directors murder so I changed my name so I wouldn't get involved in it all. No one really knew me yet. I'd been there for only a day or two before he was killed. I'm sorry I lied to you."

"Why would you tell me?" I could just see his facial expression.

"You need a reliable resource. I'm not a reliable resource if you don't know my name. I'm not worth going to."

"Good point. So, how are you feeling, Crystal?"

"Fine... why are you concerned?" I asked, coming to attention, my forehead crinkling, "We've only met once. How did you know I was injured?"

"You don't remember?" he asked. I hoped to god that I didn't do anything too bad.

"Remember what?"

"I was nearby when your flat exploded. When I came to see what the noise was, I saw you. So, I took you to the hospital." he said like it was obvious, "You barely woke up at one point, but you didn't say much."

"I don't remember anything after being hit in the head with a falling rock." I said, "It was almost right away."

"Oh... I see." he said thoughtfully, "It's good your feeling better." he hung up just like that.

I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it like it was from Mars or something. Wow, he was weird. There were no understanding him. I mean, I was sure he didn't like me, so what the hell was this saving my life?

Well, he obviously wasn't selfish, but he was arrogant. And a case stealer. He has jumped in on so many of my cases, stealing my thunder out from under me. He's so quick with it, too. One minute, I'd be hot on it. So close to solving it. Then, I avert my eyes for a moment and the next thing I know, the case is solved and it has his name on it.

I was getting tired. This has been going on for five years. A year after I joined the police force, and I became a detective, he started doing it. He's been butting in and stealing my experience. Bastard.

The funny thing is, though... we've never met. Until now, that is, and he doesn't even know the real me. I'm kind of glad that he doesn't know who I am. It keeps Alexandria Colt, Epic Undercover Detective who is the best around a mystery. I think I'll keep this up for as long as I can...

I grinned. This should be good. Keeping it a secret will be hard, but I think I can do it. I'll ask Lestrade to help me. He will. He owes me pretty big for this, and he knows it. He sent me freaking sympathy flowers with a note saying, "I owe you one." So, this shall be the one. I laughed. I couldn't wait to see Sherlock Holmes again.