Six: Jacqueline LeClair
Though I didn't work at the museum, and I couldn't be a detective, I still needed a job. So, I went to job interviews. Just for part-time jobs. I went as Crystal Greene, obviously. Well, for most of them anyway. I screwed up a few times and said my real name.
I looked at a being a waitress in a small cafe, but the job was filled. I tried at a coffee shop, but that job was filled as well. I also tried a language teacher at a school, but they actually had the position filled, believe it or not.
Getting a job was harder then I thought. During my interview for the teacher, I flirted with the guy I was so desperate for a job. My next interview wasn't for another hour, so I decided to go to Starbucks (not hiring, damn it) for some coffee while I mulled over what was going to happen at the next one.
I sat there, trying to perk up with this coffee. It was not working. I was sure that four times was a charm, but this is going to be a long job hunt. I sighed into my coffee as I started to take a sip. "Have a case of the Monday's do we?" said an all too familiar voice suddenly.
Sherlock sat behind me at another table, but our backs were facing each other. I was not in the mood to deal with a smart-ass like Sherlock Holmes. I was having a very bad day.
What the hell was he even doing here? Of course, I didn't know about any cases that were going on, so who knows what he's doing here. He couldn't be on a case in a Starbucks. He could stalking me? For some reason, I wouldn't be surprised.
"I'm not in the mood, Sherlock." I said, gripping my coffee cup a little tighter.
"What are you not in the mood for?"
"Dealing with you." I said pointedly. With that, I put my bag on my shoulder, grabbed my coffee, and headed out the door. However, he was right behind me.
"I can help you find a job if you'd like." he offered, easily keep up with me, taking long strides to stay at my side. "I have my connections."
"Thank you for your offer, but I think I can find my own damn job." I snapped.
"Just offering." he shrugged, "Where are you off to next? I'll accompany you."
"Don't you have a case to go stick your nose in or something?"
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
"I suppose I did. And then, I had three job interviews since six thirty this morning and still nothing."
"I see you had a pretty bad day."
"You could say that." I sighed and took a drink of coffee. I glanced up at Big Ben a few blocks away.
The day wasn't even half over and I was mad at the world. Well, more at Harriet and Mira. They ruined my life. Three times. Once eighteen years ago, once five years ago, and once two weeks ago. Right when I needed it most, they took away all of my ability to make this game more interesting.
The game wasn't much of a game yet, and I was just playing with John. Telling him all about Crystal Greene, and not Detective Alexandria Colt. So far, I've been keeping it up pretty well. John did mention learning of a detective who was very talented. He said that he wanted to meet this man and compliment him on his good work. I went home after that and had a good laugh. Keeping this facade up was going to be easy.
"Would you like to cheer up, some?" Sherlock asked.
"I only have," I checked my watch, "Forty four minutes until I have to be there. The walk takes only twenty minutes from here. Can you think of anything to do in twenty four minutes between here and there?" Sherlock thought for about a minute.
"Lunch?" he asked, grinning.
"Or... a stake out?" I asked, knowing that's what it really was.
"I suppose. If you want to call it that."
"Ah, Sherlock Holmes!" cried the waitress, "I see you brought a date." Sherlock grinned, but I insisted I wasn't his date. The waitress ignored me, obviously and brought us wine. In the middle of the day. I knew Sherlock was going to run off randomly at some point. He kept glancing out the window. I knew it. He was obviously on a stakeout and I was just there to make it look casual.
"Well, I see where this date is going." I said sarcastically.
"Absolutely nowhere." Sherlock drawled and leaned back a little, still looking out the window.
"I suspected so." I sighed, picking at my salad with my fork.
"You're very good at picking up things like that." Playful sarcasm was in his voice.
"I'm not an idiot you know."
"I never said you were, though many people are."
"Many people... Is John an idiot? Am I an idiot?"
"John... he's not as much as an idiot as he could be. He's smart. You..." he looked over at me, "I don't think you're an idiot either."
"Why?"
"You knew your boyfriend was cheating on you for three months before telling him, you speak twelve languages, and you knew that the smell in your flat was the smell of an explosive. I wouldn't call you an idiot."
"Thank you." I said, smiling. Sherlock looked over at me, also smiling.
I noticed our waitress, who was walking towards us, turn sharply on her heels when she saw us, but Sherlock stopped her without even looking at her. He turned his gaze back to the street as the waitress gave me my pasta. I knew he wasn't going to eat. He was simply odd like that.
I ate slowly, keeping my eyes on Sherlock. Still, after my lunch about ten minutes later, Sherlock hadn't moved much. I paid for my lunch and Sherlock's coffee. Once I had paid, I sat there for a moment, leaning back in my chair, looking at him. He didn't seem to feel my gaze, but if he did, then he didn't make a move to show it.
After a few minutes, I sighed and started to get up, but Sherlock whispered, "Wait." I stopped and looked at him. What the hell was happening? Was something about to happen? I hoped so. I wanted to get back into the action. I wanted to run after a serial killer who was going to strike again. I wanted to follow the clues and beat Sherlock Holmes' ass at this "detective" thing.
"What?" I asked.
"There's someone at his flat, Crystal." He looked excited, and just by the look in his eye, he wanted me to come along with him.
"I'm not a detective, Sherlock. I want to be a history teacher. Besides, I have to recover from my back." my heart stung with the lie.
"A history teacher. What an interesting career choice." Sherlock stood and started to move to the door. He stopped for just a moment, looked back at me and grinned, "It won't take more then ten minutes." Oh, how I longed for adventure again. I wanted to run...
"I'm afraid it's not my area." I said, drawing out the word, "Go ahead. You'll miss the killer."
He ran out, not bothering to notice that I dropped the hint that I knew what he was doing, which means I have access to the on-going police report. Which means that I am a detective. He still looked right past it. Well, there wasn't a lot I could do now.
"You've got the job." Jacqueline LeClair told me later that afternoon. She made my day that afternoon, giving me a job at a cute little bookshop. It was a two story shop, a tea shop on the bottom floor and books on the top.
When I told her that she had made my day, she laughed and offered tea. She was a beautiful girl. Just a year or two older then me with cherry red hair and soft green eyes. She was nice as well, and seemed like she had a lot going for her.
As we talked over tea, she explained that she was saving up to get back into school. She had to drop out due to not enough money. She wanted to be an English and drama teacher. She said that she was an excellent actress, but didn't mean to boast. She was very modest, I picked up. She wore jeans that weren't all that tight, but tight enough, a loose t-shirt with a neckline right up to her neck, and her hair was covered by a purple hairband.
Then she asked me about myself.
I totally forgot the name I gave her. I might have put my real name on the job application. I did for a few of them, and I can't remember which ones. I needed to think of a way to trick my name out of her. I could zone out, but I don't want to be rude...
Suddenly, my phone rang. We both jumped, Jacqueline dropped her teacup, but it managed to land straight up in her saucer. We shared a laugh. "I'm sorry." I checked the caller I.D. "I'm afraid I have to take this."
"Oh, go ahead." Jacqueline waved her hand a bit, and I went a little up the stairs to the bookshop.
"This had better be important." I snapped, "I'm in the middle of an interview."
"No, you're not. You got the job. You're just sitting over tea. Do you by any chance speak Japanese?"
"Are you stalking me or something?"
"No. Just... following secretly at a distance."
"Why do you want me to speak Japanese?"
"The man I caught this afternoon is Japanese and only knows a few words of English. We need you to question him."
"Like... at the police station?"
"Yes. None of the officers speak Japanese. Mostly Spanish and French."
"Well, I'm busy. I'm afraid I can't put my life on hold just for you or a stupid case. Can't you find a Japanese teacher or something."
"No. You're the most reliable source I have, I'm afraid. Shall I give you the address, wait on the street corner, or barge in and make a scene. You know I will. I know you're quite smart. Which method will you use?" he said. I could tell he was smirking.
"Um, let's see." I drew out the words and I moved all the way upstairs and moved to a corner where a window and a fire escape was. I slowly opened the window.
"Stop stalling, Crystal."
"Let's see if you can find me first." I hung up and called, "Be back, Jacqueline! Just go along with it."
"Crystal?" she called in surprise.
With that, I played dramatic music in my head and climbed out the window and down the fire escape. I closed the window before I hurried down the metal stairs. Once down the stairs and in the alley, I looked behind me. He was nowhere in sight.
I ran as fast as I could out of the alley and into the street. I looked for him both ways, and there was nothing. I ran across the street and away from the alley. I looked behind me and he still wasn't there. I weaved in and out of the people on the street who looked at me strangely.
I looked back a few times as I ran and after a few minutes, I realized I wasn't being chased. I slowed to a stop as I rounded a corner. I bent over, catching my breath. I breathed heavily wishing I had some water. After a minute or so of heaving, I stood straight, looked around me, and jumped back in shock.
Leaning on the wall on one shoulder, was Sherlock Holmes. I stared at him, my mouth slightly open in surprise. He looked at me, expressionless, for a moment before he broke into an aggravating smirk.
"Well, that was fun." he said, leaned forward, grabbed my wrist and pulled me with him.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I asked, pulling easily from the light grip he had on my wrist.
"I told you that I need help translating a language."
"And I told you no. I'm having tea with a friend."
"A new friend. Ooh, what a bad impression." Sherlock said sarcastically, then grabbed my arm roughly, pulled me into the mouth of another alley and pushed me against the wall, both of his hands pinning my arms to the wall.
"What the hell are you doing?" I cried.
"If you don't help me I can have you suspected in the case I am working on and I can have your flat raided. You will be in prison with police interrogating you on every side. Detective Inspector Lestrade will be the worse. They always listen to what I have to say, and when I solve this case, I can involve you in it because I am just that good and you will be sent away forever. Is that how you want this to go?"
"Would you really do that? Especially to John's girlfriend?" I asked. Inside, I was laughing. If they heard the name "Crystal Greene" the police would cower in fear. Besides, Lestrade wouldn't even initiate it. Not even at Sherlock's demand.
"Watch me." Sherlock said in a low, menacing voice. I wished I could tell him, but I just kept along with it.
"You're kidding, right? What is this case about, anyway?"
"Drug dealers who went to far and is killing off their clients."
"I'm going to be a history teacher, Sherlock." I laughed, "I'm going to be around kids. I don't think the police will buy it. Oh, and I'm friends with Lestrade. Close friends." If you know what I mean.
Aw, shut up. I know what you're thinking. Jeez. It was only once, I was twenty two, he was thirty. He looks older then he actually is. Anyway, we were hammered. We were so drunk, I'm surprised we even remembered it. We promised never to drink with each other again unless we had different people taking us home.
"Close friends." Sherlock's eyes widened, "Does his wife know? Does John know?"
"He met his wife the next day, and John doesn't need to know about my past relationships. In any case, the police wouldn't lay a hand on me."
"Of course." Sherlock mused.
"In any case, I'll help. How long with this take?"
"I'd say... forty five minutes, but it takes twenty minutes to get there if we're walking."
"Let me inform Jacqueline that I'll be a while."
Sherlock and I walked side by side towards headquarters. I was quite upset with Sherlock. I'd had a bad day and he just made it worse. Once my day had an upward curve, Sherlock swooped in again and made it worse. It had only been good for about an hour, too. Now, it was three in the afternoon and I was getting nowhere with my good day.
Does someone have it out for me or something? Well, with the amount of enemies I had that were still on the loose, I wouldn't be surprised. Sherlock seemed to enjoy the fact that I was upset at everything. He had this vexing smirk on his face. Maybe he had it out for me and was trying to make my life miserable.
Oh, if only I could trip him or something. Sadly, it's actually sunny today and there are no puddles. Damn Sherlock Holmes. In my head, I beat his arse to the ground, and I solve three cases that were his.
There goes my sanity. See it running away there? It's actually kind of cute. No wonder I wanted it with me. Sadly, every time I was with Sherlock, I just got angry and annoyed. I don't know what it is about him, but every time I see him I just... want to punch his smug face. Maybe it wasn't smug all the time, but it looked like it to me.
"Do you have something to say? Sherlock's voice broke through my thoughts.
"No. Not really. Not now at least."
"You might as well. Conversation will make the walk shorter."
"Let me rephrase that... I have nothing nice to say." I remarked.
"I see. Then shall I start the conversation. Which language did you start with?" he asked. I glared at him, but I was also desperate for conversation, so I gave in and told him.
"Korean. I had no choice, really. I lived there for three years."
"Did you, now?"
"My mother got a job teaching Korean children English, and my dad was a police officer there for a while."
"Really?" he said thoughtfully.
"Then we moved to London. Then my father died. He was killed in an explosion. Not just any explosion." I remarked suggestively.
"Mira and Harriet?" Sherlock seemed surprised.
"No. Not them. Their mentors and mothers. My father was on that case. So, when Mira and Harriet came out doing things exactly like their mothers, I followed the case. I found everything I could about it. I also tried to investigate, and because I knew so much, I informed the police and my flat blew up. This has happened twice. Once five years ago, and once now."
"So you have a personal connection with that case..." Observed Sherlock.
"Very. I'm glad to see them behind bars."
"So, is your older sister a detective?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
"You would think that one of the children would try to be a detective in honor of their father."
"No one is really all that smart in my family, other then me and my father. I decided to be a history teacher instead. Being a detective doesn't interest me." My heart practically stopped with the lie. I hated having to say this.
"Then why do you speak twelve languages?" Sherlock inquired, and I stopped walking. Sherlock stopped and looked back at me.
Was I busted? Did he know who I was? Did he finally figure me out? I panicked. The game wasn't supposed to be this short. Or, maybe he's known since the museum. He can tell who you are and the last four people you slept with just by looking at you from across the room. Damn Sherlock Holmes! This was just getting fun, too!
"Fun." I covered, finally thinking of an answer, "Languages are my second hobby. Other then reading history books."
"It's too bad you're going to be a teacher soon. Then I can't just drop in on you when ever I want." Sherlock smirked.
"Oh, that's too bad. I'll miss having you around." I said sarcastically.
"I'll miss dropping in on days like this."
"Pardon?"
"The bad days. Are you normally like this?"
"Excuse me?"
"Are you usually in a 'bad mood?'"
"No. This is just day where everything bad that has happened in my life crashed down on me and I got beaten to two jobs, and I want some sleep, and I want to rewind life to correct things, and I want to go back to work-" I stopped abruptly, "I want to start work."
"You want to go back to work?"
"Did I say that? I meant start work. Well, school comes first, of course."
"Of course. I see." Sherlock mused.
"Yes. How far away are we from the police station again?"
"Fifteen minutes."
"My god. I have to spend it talking to you." I groaned.
"What? You don't enjoy my company?"
"No, in fact, I don't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I just... don't."
"Well, I find you absolutely fascinating."
"Why? What is so fascinating about me?"
"Everything, so far. I enjoy watching you and seeing how you live. It's very easy to since you live next door." he grinned, obviously enjoying this.
"Don't you have anything better to do then bug me?"
"Well, I do. We're walking towards it. So, in the time in between, I annoy you. Unintentionally, of course."
"Unintentionally. Right." I drew out the vowel and I looked at him, "Shall I annoy you in return then?"
"How would you do that?"
I stopped us and pushed him against the wall, putting a hand next to his head. I smirked, looking at his shocked face. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape. Almost a perfect replica of the face he made the other day when I corrected him. I ignored the people on the street, looking at us, standing there, not talking, the girl holding down the guy, a mischievous look in her eye.
"You play the violin, but not well, I'm afraid. I know you haven't played while I've been living there, but that's because you haven't had a lot to think about. Nothing complicated, anyway. I know that you've only been in love once, a long, long, time ago, and you haven't gotten over her. You're nervous that she could be upset. Your pulse," my index finger tapped his wrist where it had been lightly pressing, "is going a little haywire. This girl must have really hurt your feelings when she left you. Yes, she left you. She thought were a little annoying. I think you know why. You're you. She was a bit judgemental, and for you to be this close to a girl, with your lips and bodies less then six inches apart... it's like she could be watching.
"Oh, poor girl. Ah, what's her name? Polly Looper?" I did actually know her name.
"Molly... Hooper."
"Yes, Molly Hooper, poor girl. Completely in love with you, always has been from day one. You won't give her the time of day, though she would do anything for you. I don't see why you don't like her. She's cute."
"How-"
"You wouldn't admit it but you love, and I mean love Korea. And diamonds. And you are fantastic pool player. Seriously. You're awesome."
"How did you-"
"You have fantastic lines. Your body lines up beautifully. You could be a dancer." I let go at let him take it in.
"Are you sure you're not a detective?" he asked.
"Absolutely." I said as we started walking, "My dad taught me a few techniques. It's quite easy to see if you know what you're looking for."
"Really?" he asked, trying to shake off his previous experience.
"Yeah. It's simple, really. Your pulse and your eyes told me about the girl, your posture and the way you use your arms told me about pool, you eyed that Korean flag back there on that lady's car got you a bit excited for a second, and you got excited again at the jewelry shop back there as well." I grinned.
"And Molly?" Sherlock suddenly seemed a bit distracted.
"Well, to be honest-" I paused, as I started to speak, but Sherlock stopped me.
"Crystal, we have to run."
"What?"
"We have to run?"
"Why?"
"Don't look behind you. Someone has been following us for quite some time."
"I- don't understand."
"As we turn the corner, look at them. Maybe you can recognize him. Your father may have told you about someone like him as well." Sherlock said casually.
As we turned the corner, there was a suspicious looking figure all hidden in a trench coat and combat boots. Even from under a hat and sunglasses, it was obvious... he was watching us. More specifically me. I saw him smirk in the shadows. I knew what he wanted.
I reached into my purse and pulled out some gum. The one with one piece. I took the one piece, popped it in my mouth, and declared I had to throw it away. I turned, much to Sherlock's distress. I moved about half way down the block the the trash can and as I threw away the wrapper and package, the trench coat guy slipped something in my purse. "Thank you, Jordan." I whispered.
He didn't respond. He just kept his head down and moved in the other direction. Odd. It's not like him not to strike up conversation. Try to make it casual...
Jordan, my right hand man, walked away. Usually, I work solo, but Jordan has connections, so he can help me often. Now-a-days, he just goes around and tell me what the police are up to. Our meetings are always secret, or as indiscreet as we can make them. With Sherlock, watching, however, I'm not sure we pulled it off. He may have picked up by now that I wasn't who I said I was.
"Who was it?" Sherlock asked once I got back to him.
"I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine."
"Now there is something you've said which is wrong." he grinned.
"What the blazes do you mean?"
"I am obviously smarter then you, so our guesses wouldn't be fair."
"Black, two sugars, a hint of cream."
"What?"
"Marion."
"Excuse me?"
"Your coffee order and your coffee alias. And that guy was actually an underground tip off guy who just happened to be walking in the same direction as us. The way he turned his hand every time a white purse like mine passed by meant he had secret information. He was just looking for the right person."
"How did you... know that?"
"I observe, Sherlock. I knew what I was looking for, and that made it easier to pick it up. Don't underestimate me just because I'm a history teacher. I know what I'm talking about."
"Crystal Greene, who the hell are you?" he asked playfully.
"Your guess is as good as mine." I replied, winking.
At least conversation had gotten lighthearted. I was surprised to actually enjoying this now, and I was almost upset that we arrived at the police station too soon. I interrogated the Japanese man, completely in Japanese, just like Sherlock wanted. I told him that I knew he spoke English and had to talk to the police. If he didn't, I could do some horrible things. I'm not going into detail. It may scar your brain. I know it scarred him, because he started speaking in English, nearly screaming out his confession.
"What... did you tell him? Is this your first interrogation?" Sherlock asked when I left the room.
"It is my first interrogation. I just thought back to 'C.S.I.' 'Alias' and... oh what's that other show?" I calmly informed him.
"I wouldn't know."
"John would."
To be perfectly honest, this is my 167th interrogation. I keep them tallyed off in a notebook in my purse. As I rummaged for my notebook, I came across the envelope that Jordan gave me. I was a bit nervous, to be honest. What case was I missing out on this time? It was probably fun and elaborate and the police would be needing my help, but they stupidly put me on leave.
I don't need to be on sick leave. I'm not sick. I went to the doctor the other day and my concussion is gone. It was the smallest of things, so they weren't surprised it healed that fast. Now, the only thing was my back. It didn't hurt unless I laid on it. Sometimes it bled a little bit, but only a little. I was fine. They just didn't see that. Did anyone really see me?
Sherlock offered to walk me back to the bookshop, but I said that I would rather go alone. Besides, he had a case to work on. So, once I was a few blocks away and I was sure he wasn't following me. I moved to the side of the sidewalk near the wall and and I pulled the letter from my purse.
I looked it over. This wasn't usually what Jordan gave me. It was usually disguised as a business letter, but this... this wasn't. I put it back in my purse, getting a little worried.
When I was back at the bookshop, I apologized to Jacqueline probably forty times. She asked if I was dealing with a boyfriend, believe it or not, and I laughed.
"Sherlock is not my boyfriend, and I never want him to be." I scoffed.
"Oh... okay. How about tea, then?"
I still had the job. Jacqueline was just a bit confused. When I left, about an hour later, I felt like an idiot. I hated Sherlock Holmes. I hated him. I never wanted to like him.