by Alicia (aisumitsukai at home.com)
My very own new series! (the plot bunnies have me! AAAAH! Help!)
Ahem! I'm now presenting to you my third? fourth? series! It'll
have chapter headings and everything! -dances happily and feels
accomplished- I present to you:
Chapter One: Mais oui! Le travail!
Arbitrarily, Lestrade flung a leg over the armrest of her
chair. She was bored. Again. Greyson had promised her a new case. He
said he had the feeling something big was on its way. Lestrade said he
was being uncharacteristically optimistic.
Whatever the future held, at the moment, Lestrade’s mind was on
autopilot, singing a recent rock hit to the rhythm of her office’s
Of course, the Inspector did realize there was no case. Greyson
just wanted her to stop pestering him. Still, she mentally grumbled in
between snatches of song, serves him right for giving the Anderson
case to Fillangley, and the Rocket Diamond case to...Patricks, and the
Harold case to....
Absently she glared at the innocent neon numbers on her clock’s
screen. It was only seven AM: just two hours into the workday! With a
gusty sigh, she pushed herself out of her chair, and paced the grey
box they told her was a ‘first class, state of the art, physically-
enhanced area designed especially to travailer.’ Of course they
wouldn’t know that that was the wrong conjugation of ‘travail’ and
that it didn’t make the cell anymore more glamourous than the rat
trap-ishness it already had.
Acting on a spur of the moment idea, Lestrade came to life
rather suddenly, and stalked out of her office, down the hall,
bothering to slam the door behind her. She continued her fine example
of huffy stalking all the way the New Scotland Yard garage, where she
was forced to stop as she clambered into her cruiser.
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