Chapter 2

"Should I be impressed?" Greg asked. He had never heard the name before, and it was certainly the kind of name that didn't slip your mind.

"You should be. I know things that you idiots who call yourselves the police would kill to find out." Sherlock Holmes said, blowing out smoke in a perfect circle.

Now it was Greg's turn to snort. "A bit self-righteous are we?" he said, trying to ignore the fact that he just got called idiot alongside his entire profession by a complete stranger.

"No." Sherlock Holmes said seriously, putting out his cigarette on the table, leaving a coal-black mark on the wooden surface. "You have been investigating the London burglaries for weeks now, and you haven't reached any progress whatsoever, although the answer is right in front of your pretty little faces. I solved the case two minutes after I read about the first break-in in the paper, and you lot are supposed to be the Scotland Yard. It's pathetic."

"Hold on." Greg said, putting his hands up in front of him. "Are you telling me you have known all along? You know who the burglars are?" Sherlock stared at him calmly and lit another cigarette, but didn't reply. "Then why the hell haven't you told us?" Greg was frustrated.

"I don't call myself a policeman. It is not my job to solve your petty little cases." Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"Petty little cases?" Greg repeated slowly, feeling his face go red. "Petty little… There has been eleven break-ins. That means eleven families who have been robbed of all of their values, not to mention sense of safety in their own homes. And you tell me you could have prevented what, the ten latest?"

"There, there Inspector, there's no need to raise your voice like that. Would you like my help or not?" Sherlock spoke in a superior sort of way, which only seemed to emphasize the fact that in this room, he now had the power, and they both knew it. Greg had no idea who this man was, nor if he spoke the truth at all. He had already been insulted deeply, and all his common sense screamed at him to stay away from Sherlock Holmes. That was what any other person would do. But Greg wasn't any other person. He had gotten this job for a reason, and it was because he always trusted his gut feeling, which so far had never failed him. And right now it told him that Sherlock Holmes was a man that could be trusted. Greg just hesitated for the sake of it, he had known from the first sight that this man would somehow change his life, and therefore it wasn't a question whether if Greg wanted help, it was more of an inner debate whether or not he should involve Sally and the rest of the group. He decided to deal with that later. He sighed, dragged his fingers through his hair, swallowed the last remaining of his pride and nodded. "Yes, I would very much like your help."

Sherlock looked pleased. He put his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned towards Greg. "Good." he said. "You're going to need a new pencil."

"How the hell do you know all of this?" Greg asked exasperated. He was hungry and exhausted, and the clock on the wall showed that it was well past his general office hours. Sherlock had just spent the last few hours explaining how and why, and most importantly, who was responsible for the break-ins. Greg had sat with his mouth open, soaking up every word Sherlock had spat out in a frankly ridiculous speed, and despite a few not-so-well-concealed insults directed to himself, he couldn't help but be fascinated with this man. Sherlock had explained how the stricken families had one thing in common, which was a secret bank account in Switzerland with obscene amounts of money. Since the bank had access to their customer's personal data, including addresses and PIN-codes to the house alarms, they had seen their chance to earn a bit extra by robbing the customers in their own homes. "And of course a secret bank with secret bank accounts for their secret billionaire-customers know how to do a break-in without leaving traces. It's so simple." Greg had concluded, and Sherlock had looked almost pleased. They had now spent the last hour coming up with a plan to catch the group in the act next time, because of course, Sherlock knew exactly when and where they would strike. This 'coming up with a plan' thing consisted mostly in Greg barking orders left and right, and Sherlock barking at Greg for, in Sherlock's opinion, giving out the wrong orders.

Finally, they had a strategy and a force of policemen ready to act. The next break-in was scheduled for 5.56 the following day at a mansion in the outskirts of London. That is, if one decided to trust Sherlock, which Greg apparently had done for some reason. It was now 23.43 and the rumble of Greg's stomach disturbed the silence in the interrogation room in which he still sat together with Sherlock. He coughed awkwardly. "I really need to get something to eat" he said, as if it hadn't been obvious. He hesitated, then asked "Would you like to grab something?"

"I don't eat while I'm working. Digestion slows me down." Sherlock answered. This somehow did not surprise Greg at all. "Oh" he said simply. A second later Sherlock suddenly rose from his chair.

"Where are you going?" Greg asked, a bit shocked at the sudden movement.

"Home." Sherlock replied. "I think I've done my fair share of the work now. After all, I must leave something for you idiots to take care of. Don't mess it up."

Greg decided to ignore the insult. He had barely spent a day with Sherlock and he was already accustomed to snarky comments about his competence. Greg watched Sherlock put on his coat in a very dramatic manner, and just before he swept out of the room Greg cleared his throat causing Sherlock to stop and look at him. Greg hesitated, not really knowing how to phrase the question, and also because he couldn't really believe he hadn't asked this earlier.

"Mr. Holmes, what is it that you do?"

"I observe, Inspector. You should try it some time." Sherlock Holmes winked, and smirked and then he was out of sight, and Greg found himself alone in the room, wondering if he had dreamt it all.

He hadn't.

At 6.35 he woke up, startled by his phone buzzing furiously on his desk where he'd slept through the night. He yawned and shook his head as if to clear it from sleep and picked up. "Yeah 'ello?" he said, rubbing his neck which was stiff from his not-so-comfortable sleeping position. It was Sally who called him to say that the operation had went well, and that he could expect four burglars to arrive within shortly. Greg managed to provide a few "hmm's" and "aha's" and even a "good job" before hanging up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

At 6.40 he put on the coffee-pot and then poured himself a large cup, his breakfast for the day. At 6.47 he spilled said cup on his office floor, after he had walked in and found Sherlock Holmes sitting at his desk looking through the scattered files. "Shit" Greg exclaimed. "You can't just sneak into my office like that."

"Oh it really wasn't that hard." Sherlock replied distantly, flipping through the papers. Greg sighed heavily and went to retrieve something to mop up his lost breakfast with. He helped himself to a new cup in the kitchen before he went back to his office. Sherlock took no notice of him, as he shuffled files around and scribbled notes on a piece of paper. Greg sat in the chair opposite, drinking his coffee and watching the scene with growing indignation. "Oh, be my guest" he said sarcastically when Sherlock opened up Greg's laptop and started typing and clicking.

"Seriously, you can't do that! That's private property, not to mention tons of confidential..."

"Do you want my help or not?" Sherlock cut him off. Greg opened his mouth as to argue, but closed it again, pursing his lips. He still didn't know who Sherlock was, or why he was agreeing to letting him help, he just knew that without him they would still be in the dark regarding the break-ins.

"Thought so" Sherlock mumbled while typing and clicking some more, and Greg resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

A few minutes later, Sherlock jumped up, gathering the files and his notes and exclaimed, almost happily "Great, they're here. Let's go interrogate some burglars, Inspector." Greg, who hadn't even noticed that they'd arrived shook his head. "No no no...You're not..." But Sherlock was already out the door and heading down the corridor.

"You are not interrogating those criminals, you hear me!" Greg shouted after him. But whether or not Sherlock had heard him Greg didn't know, and when he had caught up he found Sherlock in the interrogation room, presenting himself to one of the apparent suspects. "Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. I work with D.I Lestrade."

And he should have opposed himself to this statement, he really should. It was what any ordinary person would do. But since Gregory Lestrade wasn't ordinary, he merely accepted this as a new fact, entered the room, and sat down next to Sherlock Holmes.