Circumstantial Evidenceby Cyberwolf (wolf at mydestiny.net)
8/19/02
The idea just struck me in the middle of Physics class one
day. (meaning I really ought to review Newton's Laws, seeing as
how I certainly didn't get it from that lecture) A short,
pointless fic whose only purpose is to provide a little H/L
action. I don't know what to categorize it as. I haven't even
come up with a title for it. If you've suggestions, then by all
means, suggest away! ^_^
Disclaimer: Sherlock 'olmes in the bloomin' 22nd Century
is an animated series belongin' ter DiC. Not ter me. I ain't receivin'
no brass from this venture.
Lestrade was cold, damp, cranky and suspecting the beginnings
of a cold. Needless to say, it had been a somewhat less than stellar
day.
She had just come from an encounter with Moriarty on the
waterfront. The incident involved explosives, smuggled weapons
and an attempt to drown her. She shivered, once, in spite of the
heating blanket draped over her shoulders and the mug of piping-
hot chicken soup (courtesy of Watson) she held in between her
hands. She would have drowned, had not Holmes managed to get her
to shore. She remembered the water closing over her head, and
then knowing nothing more until she awoke, sputtering, on a dock.
And Moriarty, damn his soul (assuming clones, especially clones
of master criminals, had them) had escaped. 'Oh well,' she sighed
to herself. ‘At least we managed to get that cache of smuggled
weapons. And we did make a few arrests -- just none of them
Moriarty.’
Now, here she was, recuperating at Holmes’ flat - it was nearer
than either New Scotland Yard headquarters or her own apartment.
She was about to start on her chicken soup when the front door
banged open. Slightly startled, she looked up to see the three
Irregulars come crashing into 221B. She had only enough time to
note the generally shell-shocked expression on the boys’ faces
and the absolutely beaming one on Deidre’s before the red-haired
girl was in front of her, babbling happily.
"Oh, I knew it, I did, I was right!"
"....What....?"
"It’s finally ‘appened. I knew it would. I almost can’t believe
it, though. I mean, I knew but at the same time you were so
zedding...agh! Well, I’m very ‘appy for you, Inspector.
Congratulations! I am so, so ‘appy that it finally happened...."
Deidre was beginning to repeat herself in that long onrushing
avalanche of jabber. Lestrade, knowing how smooth Deidre could
be, regarded this as highly suspicious. She could make neither
heads nor tails of Deidre’s puzzling outpouring of enthusiasm,
so....
"Um, sorry to burst your bubble, kid. But we didn’t catch
Moriarty."
"I’m not talking about that," Deidre said impatiently, waving
the matter off.
"Then what in the zed are you talking about?" Lestrade
demanded.
"Why, that you and Mr Holmes finally got together!"
Lestrade nearly dropped her mug of soup.
Silently, deliberately, she placed the soup on the surface of
the nearby coffee-table. Equally slowly and deliberately, she turned
to face the Irregulars.
"What are you talking about?!" she repeated, only with a
significant increase in volume.
Wiggins and Tennyson winced; Deidre seemed unaffected.
"Oh come on. I know you’re always denying it, but it’s a little
late for that now, isn’t it? You may as well own up. We’ve got
evidence!" She held up a photograph and Lestrade’s heart skipped.
Her brain froze for precious seconds as she stared. Thankfully,
it returned to its normal state of functioning as she registered
the triumphant smirk on that insufferable Deidre’s face.
"Give me that!" Lestrade cried, lunging forward and snatching
the photo out of Deidre’s hand. The bewildered inspector stared
at the image of Holmes’ blond head bent over hers, his mouth
against her own.
She’d been unconscious during the incident, but she knew what
it was.
"You zedding ninny! This isn’t a kiss, he was giving me mouth-
to-mouth resuscitation!" Of course she’d assumed that she’d been
revived by one of the medical team whom she had awakened to find
all around her, so that photo was rather a shock...but she’d known
at once what the picture was.
"That’s a pretty imaginative excuse, Inspector," drawled
Deidre, and Lestrade had to fight the urge to jump up and scream.
Holmes entered the room then, blond hair lying rather flatter
than normally against his head -- he’d just showered, rinsing off
the seawater which he had jumped into. He blinked once as Deidre
ran to him, waving the photo in her hand. Lestrade stared at her
own empty one. Damn -- she hadn’t even felt Deidre take it back.
After having had the picture shoved into his face, Holmes began
to give the same explanation Lestrade had -- only more calmly.
Deidre seemed to take it with about the same amount of belief.
Wiggins and Tennyson stood around silently, looking a little
awkward. Lestrade saw mingled belief and doubt in their
expressions and fumed silently. That zedding girl and her fast-
talking!
Fifteen minutes later, Lestrade left quietly through the front
door. Holmes was still facing off with Deidre ("Well, what about
the time when you and the Inspector...."), but she was able to catch
his eye and wave just before closing the door.
As she drove home, anticipating a hot bath and a fresh change
of clothing, she wondered. ‘Where did Deidre get that photo?’
Another, more frightening thought struck her. ‘Did she make
copies?’
AN: There you have it. I'm considering writing a short
epilogue...what do you think?
On to the Epilogue!
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