The two officers brought us down to the police station. Along the way, I heard muffled, incomprehensible broadcasts coming from a strange sort of device within the carriage. Once they had stopped the vehicle, they opened the doors and forcibly dragged us out. An inscription above the door of the stone building read "18TH PRECINCT". Inside, the building was bathed in bright light, and in the foyer, police officers and civilians both sat and moved about. Our arresting officers brought us to another officer at the front desk, a man with black hair, a moustache, side whiskers and nary a wrinkle on his face. The sleeves on his shirt had blue-and-white chevrons on them, thus indicating that he was a Sergeant.
"Hey Smith, hey Jones, what's with these two bums?" asked the sergeant.
"We picked 'em up tryin' to interfere with our crime scene," replied Smith. "One of 'em says he's Sherlock Holmes, wants to speak with Deputy Inspector Sacco."
The sergeant laughed. "Sherlock Holmes has been dead for over 40 years!"
"I dunno, I think we should bring 'em to Sacco just for a laugh," said the officer named Jones.
"OK, I'll let him know you're comin' up," said the sergeant.
Officers Smith and Jones brought us up a few flights of stairs until we were in the office of the one known as "Deputy Inspector Sacco". The Deputy Inspector was an older, rather heavyset man whose wrinkled, chiseled face and square jaw suggested years of experience, not only on the police force, but life in general. In contrast to the other officers we'd bore witness to, his shirt was white, and his shield was gold rather than silver, in addition to bearing a few medals. Otherwise, his uniform was largely identical to other officers. His desk was of a fine wood, and the wall behind his desk was decorated with various certificates and photographs. His chair was flanked by an American flag and another flag, quite possibly a flag for New York City. He stood up before us.
"All right, what's this about!?" said Sacco.
"Sir, these men demanded to speak to ya," said Smith. "One of 'em said he was Sherlock Holmes."
"Bullshit! Sherlock Holmes has been dead for over 40 years! These guys are just a coupla jamooks in ragged costumes! Throw 'em in the cage!"
"Deputy Inspector, if you would permit me a moment to speak with you, I am more than certain that I can convince you of my identity," said Holmes.
"Sir, I think we should listen to the man."
The other man who spoke to Sacco was a gentleman of average height and build, balding, with graying brown hair and brown eyes, in addition to an odd wrinkle here and there. His attire was a light brown suit with a white shirt, brown cravat and brown leather shoes.
"What good would that do, Frazier?" said Sacco. "It's obvious these guys are drunks or hypes!"
"I can assure you that we are neither," said Holmes, who then turned to the other fellow. "And I don't believe either of us have been introduced."
"Lieutenant David Frazier, Detective Squad."
"You too are a detective? Then perhaps you will be amazed by my unparalleled skills of deduction."
"Frazier, we don't have time for this!" said Sacco. "Let 'em get locked up!"
"Sir, what do we got to lose?" said Frazier. "If he's wrong, he's wrong."
Sacco glared at Frazier, then to Holmes and I, then to Frazier again, and again back to Holmes and I, each time with a look that would've broken lesser men. Finally, his answer issued forth:
"All right, 'Holmes', gimme your test. If ya fail, you're goin' up the river, though."
Smith allowed Holmes to walk a little closer to Sacco, and in the manner that only my dearest companion could do, he proceeded to scrutinize every fiber of the Deputy Inspector's being before coming forth with his deduction:
"You are at least 50 years of age, a decorated veteran of a foreign war. You were forced out of action due to a grievous injury. After the war, you joined the police department, got married and bore two children, who are now grown. During your career in the police department, you…"
"Hey hey HEY!" exclaimed Sacco. "The hell kinda sorcery is this!? How do ya know all that without me talkin'!?"
"Quite simply, it is all a matter of simple deduction. There is a wedding ring upon your right ring finger. One of the frames hanging on the wall behind you contains medals that could only have been earned by one who fought in a foreign war. Another displays a photograph of men in some sort of military uniforms, one of which could only be you in your younger years. There is another photograph of you in your younger years with a woman who could only be your wife in addition to two children. Are you quite satisfied, Deputy Inspector Sacco?"
Sacco made an angry snort at Holmes. "All right. Smith, Jones…let 'em go."
Smith and Jones proceeded to unlock our handcuffs.
"As much as I hate to admit it, youse two could actually be useful to me," said Sacco. "Crime is outta control in this city, and maybe a coupla joes like youse could prevent the city from becomin' a total war zone."
"That's exactly what I was thinkin', sir," said Frazier.
"Hey Lieutenant, I got some information on the Goodson…"
Holmes and I turned around when we heard that woman's voice. It belonged to a young woman with a healthy tan to her complexion, dark brown hair parted to the sides with multiple layers that suggested a similarity to a bird's feathers, brown eyes and larger bosoms than the painted lady who'd accosted us on our way here. She too appeared to wear makeup, though it was hardly noticeable save for thick black eyeliner and matching eyeshadow. Her attire consisted of a black shirt that said "BLACK SABBATH" in white letters, which called attention to her ample chest, a black jacket that was quite possibly made of leather, blue denim pants that accentuated her voluptuous figure, which were held up by a black leather belt that was decorated with silver pyramid-shaped studs, and black knee-high leather boots that resembled riding boots. I cast my eyes upon her before giving my attention to Holmes, who had a look in his eyes that I had never once seen before. I did, however, realize the meaning of this gaze: Holmes had become singularly infatuated with her. Her response, however, was less than favorable, evidenced by her crossing her arms:
"Whoa, talk about your sorry sacks of shit."
"Detective L'Esperance, this is Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson," said Frazier. "Holmes, Watson, this is Detective 3rd Grade Jasmine L'Esperance, our regular 'Dirty Harriet'."
Holmes' eyes widened as he turned his attention to Frazier. "Good heavens, Lieutenant Frazier! You can't possibly be serious, can you?"
"Serious about what?"
"You intend to tell me that the New York City Police Department permits women to be employed as detectives?"
Jasmine put her fists on her hips. "The hell did ya just say!?"
"I am merely saying that women are wholly unfit to be employed as police officers, let alone detectives," said Holmes.
"UNFIT!? I'll give ya 'unfit'!"
With all the fury that could only come from a woman scorn'd, Jasmine grabbed Holmes by the throat and single-handedly slammed him against the wall, much to my astonishment. I could scarcely believe that a woman as comely as her could possess the brute strength of a gorilla.
"HEY!" shouted Frazier. "Knock it off, L'Esperance!"
Jasmine let go of Holmes' throat and turned to Frazier. "Oh, so you're stickin' up for this misogynist pig now!?"
"I don't like his bigoted attitude any more than you, but you're a detective! Show some professionalism, will ya?"
In that moment, Sacco made his way over to Holmes, who was rubbing his neck.
"Holmes, I understand you're not used to workin' with women, but this is 1973. There's such a thing as the 'women's rights movement', and this is the Department's first year allowin' women to perform the same police duties as men, so like it or not, you're gonna have to work with Detective L'Esperance if ya wanna help us solve the city's crime problem, understand?"
Holmes nodded. "As reluctant as I am to cooperate with a woman detective, I shall do so in the interest of furthering my own ends."
"Good. You'll get far with that attitude. L'Esperance, since it's obvious that Holmes and Watson are fish outta water, why don't ya take some time to show 'em around, show 'em how we do things in the Big Apple?"
Jasmine crossed her arms. "Ordinarily, I would tell someone to go jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, but seein' as how I'd get kicked off The Job, I'm keepin' my mouth shut on the matter."
"Good. Best of luck to ya, Holmes and Watson."
"Thank you, Deputy Inspector Sacco," said Holmes.