Chapter 3

The interrogations were over. It really hadn't been much of a struggle, getting them to confess. They had literally been caught in the act, so it was never any doubt whether or not they were responsible. However, Greg had also managed to squeeze out the details of their employer, aka. The Super-Secret Billionaire Bank in Switzerland, how much they were paid and under what conditions they worked. Okay, so maybe Sherlock had helped with the squeezing of the details. He was remarkable, that much was undeniable. He was also rude, socially incompetent and a complete arse, but he was remarkable. It was like he knew every secret that anyone possessed, down to the very darkest ones. He could tell what someone had had for breakfast by looking at their tie, and he could reveal the most astonishing details out of a, from Greg's point of view, completely meaningless piece of paper. This ability might or might not have helped persuade the arrested men to spill the beans about their employer and their affairs, as Sherlock had threatened to publicly announce some really filthy secrets that each of the suspects possessed. It may or may not be legal to use said ability in a matter of police-work, but at the moment Greg didn't have the energy to care. He had done everything he could. As far as the bank and their shady business went, it really wasn't his problem, he would send over all the information to the police in Switzerland and be done with it. It was also their problem to deal with the stricken families, and make sure everything was cleared up between them and the bank. He was just going to write up the last details in the report, and then he could actually go home early for once. He could barely believe it. Yesterday, he had been completely clueless about the case, and today it was solved. Greg sat by his desk, scribbling at the report when the door opened and Sherlock stepped in. He sat down in the chair, watching Greg until he finally threw away his pencil and directed his attention to Sherlock.

"So…Consulting Detective, huh?" Greg said. "I've never heard of that job before."

"I invented it, I am the only one in the world."

Greg chuckled. "Of course you are. Listen Mr. Holmes"

"Sherlock"

"What?"

"Call me Sherlock."

"Oh. Alright then. Sherlock." It felt a bit weird already being on first-name basis, but then again, there was nothing not weird about Sherlock. "Um…I just want to thank you. It would probably have taken weeks to solve this without your help." Sherlock snorted. "Fine. It would have taken months without your help, and I just…I'm really grateful." Greg hesitated before continuing. "Ehm… what sum did you have in mind? I'm really not used to hire consulting detectives, so I'm not sure how much would be appropriate."

"I don't want money." Sherlock said.

"I was thinking maybe…wait what?" Greg said, thinking he must have heard wrong.

"I. Don't. Want. Money." Sherlock said again, emphasizing each word.

"Err… okay. So you're just doing it for free then? Helping us solve cases? Helping me?" Greg really couldn't believe it. Sherlock stood up, tearing a piece off of one of Greg's files and scribbled something on it. "I'll make you a deal Inspector. You call me whenever you're out of your depth, which is always" Greg rolled his eyes but took the note from Sherlock. "I will help you solve whatever case you're on. In turn I get free hands at crime scenes."

"I can't do that" Greg said immediately. He could get in so much trouble for even considering this.

"Oh I think you can find a way Inspector. Or else I could probably find a few people that would be interested in that embarrassing story of how you lost your virginity in the backseat of a car. A Ford was it? Oh no right, it was a Saab. My bad." He smirked, and Greg tried his best not to throw his shoe at him.

"How do you even know..? Never mind" He shook his head. "Fine. I'll see what I can do, but I won't promise anything. Now get the hell out of my office." Sherlock looked pleased. "Certainly Inspector." He walked out the door, but before he closed it he poked his head in and said "Of course it's absolutely necessary that I am the first one on every crime scene. I can't possibly risk it being ruined by your useless crowd of officers." He closed the door. This time, Greg actually did toss his shoe after him. It bounced against the door and fell to the floor with a heavy thud. Greg put his head in his hands and contemplated how he had ended up accidentally hiring the world's only consulting detective who, on top of that, had sort of blackmailed him into something that probably could cost him his job. But still, he couldn't help but feeling…he didn't quite know. Happy was not the right word. He just felt, which was more than he'd done lately. He turned his attention towards his paperwork again, and felt just a little bit lighter.

When Greg finally decided to head home for the day, he was stopped repeatedly in the hallways, exchanging handshakes, received pats on his back and earned several "good job's". The case with the "Band of Burglars", as the press liked to call them, had been one of the largest in a long time, and a lot of people had been involved. Okay so maybe he didn't deserve all the credit for solving it, but he still had a hard time hiding his smile and he let himself revel in that good feeling of accomplishment. He stepped out of the building and his smile grew even wider. It had stopped raining. However, his praise towards the god of weather was interrupted when a man in what looked like a very expensive black suit approached him and asked

"Excuse me Sir, are you Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

"Yes, that's me. Who's asking?" Greg replied to the strange man.

"There is a car for you Sir." The man gestured towards a big black and very shiny car that was parked by the side of the road. Greg was confused at first, but then he realized that it was probably the District Attorney that had sent the car. It was a bit weird because if he had wanted to arrange a meeting he could have just called, but then again, it wasn't every day that you caught the most searched criminals in London. Maybe the special occasion called for special measures. Greg decided to go with it. Hell, he'd earned a bit of special treatment, and if it turned out to be a big black and very shiny car, who was he to complain?

"He really didn't need to send me a car" he said though, because he felt like it was something he should say.

"No problem at all Sir. Now if you wouldn't mind" the man said, opening the door for Greg. "We are in a bit of a hurry".

Greg got into the car. The man closed the door, walked around the car and got into the driver's seat. They drove south, crossed the River Thames and proceeded by going south-west. Greg had been lost in his own thoughts and hadn't really paid attention to where they were going, but after about 20 minutes, when the characteristics of inner London had started to thin out and were replaced by factories and industrial-looking buildings, he started to wonder where the hell they were going. He cleared his throat. The driver said nothing and turned right. Greg coughed. The driver turned left.

"Excuse me, but where are we going? Mr. Langley surely hasn't switched office and relocated himself here of all places?"

"I'm not taking you to see Mr. Langley." The driver said simply, and Greg felt a bit panicky. Where the hell did he bring him and who was the hell was he supposed to meet? He took a deep breath and convinced himself that it was probably nothing out of the ordinary, and that he was Detective Inspector Lestrade for god's sake. But before he could ask again, the car finally slowed to a stop in front of a large building in what looked like an abandoned marina. The corpses of once fine-looking boats were scattered around the building, and the smell of sea and tar met him when the driver opened the door for him and he stepped out, wind rustling his hair.

"Through the door, if you would be so kind Sir." The driver said. Greg looked around him, feeling incredibly stupid, and his eyes fell on the only door in sight, which was a rusty one belonging to the large building. The driver got back into his seat and closed the door, and Greg saw no other option than to step through the door and meet whatever person was waiting for him on the other side. The door creaked when he opened it and he wondered not for the first time what the hell he was doing. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.