General Disclaimer

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i still wouldn't mind the tips and reviews!! please and thank-you! oh, and please ignore any spelling mistakes.

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Holmes met Lestrade in front of New Scotland Yard, with a pleasant air about him for a change. He unknowingly offered his arm to Lestrade out, who gladly accepted it as they walked through the grand doors of the building. It wasn't until he felt her skin touching his that he realized what he had done. But he didn't pull away; he liked it there.

They finally reached Grayson's after taking six flights of long stairs. (Holmes had insisted on not using the elevator. The more time spent alone with Lestrade, the better.)

Holmes opened the office door, then bowed low and made a gesture towards the room. "After you, my dear Lestrade." But his voice held a sarcastic note, and his grin killed all seriousness.

Lestrade grinned back, and went along with Holmes' sudden playful mood. "Thank-you, my good man." Lestrade straightened her shoulders and walked into Grayson's office with a flourish, followed by Holmes with a dignified air. But Grayson's angry scowl and steel face brought them both back into reality, and they became serious again.

Grayson looked at his watch. "You're late, Lestrade. There are cases to solve and people to help. You can't go frolicking wherever and whenever you like!"

Lestrade bit her lip and tried to sound sorry. "Yes, chief."

Grayson sighed. "Well, now that you're here, I need you and Holmes to work on this case about the Doomsday band. The whole band has gone missing, and I need you to find out why. There's a Battle of the Bands competition coming up, and I want you to go under cover as rockers to see what you can find."

Lestrade stared. "You want me and Holmes to go undercover as punks?"

"Yes, Lestrade. The other bands won't even look at an officer, but they'll talk their heads off to someone in another band."

"Why me?" Lestrade groaned. She had done many irrational things in her career, but this.... Suddenly, Lestrade perked up. Grayson was actually giving her permission to be wild and carefree. In fact, he was demanding it. Lestrade smiled. "Of course we'll take the case. But there are usually more than two people in a band."

Grayson sighed again. "I know, Lestrade. But I couldn't find anyone else willing to do it, especially when they heard they would be partners with you two," added Grayson, a bit meanly. "So it's up to you to find the rest of your crew."

Lestrade grinned. "All right, chief! Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this!" Lestrade grabbed Holmes' arm and ran out of the room.

Holmes had been quiet the whole time. He wasn't sure what 'rockers' were, but making a band didn't seem too bad. He could play the violin, and he thought he heard once before that Lestrade could play the piano. It would be fun to play together. It worried him, though, the way Lestrade called the other bands 'punks'. Either the meaning of the word had changed, or 'rockers' meant something totally different than a peaceful orchestra. "Lestrade, what is a 'rocker'?"

Lestrade seemed startled at first. Then she realized that he had been born in a more peaceful time, where opera's were the main thing. Electric guitars hadn't been invented then. How was Holmes going to react when he found out what he was supposed to dress up like a complete street rat, who had no better thing in life than to cause trouble? Lestrade grinned wickedly. "Here, Holmes. I'll show you."

Lestrade led him downtown, where she had heard a concert would be playing. Holmes looked around him. "Lestrade, where are we going?"

Lestrade turned right again. "Oh, you'll see."

A sudden blast of loud music rang in their ears. There was a large platform ahead of them. Holmes squinted into the bright lights on stage. There were four people on stage, all dressed in black and weighed down in chains. Some of them had hair that stuck up straight in big spikes, with the tips dyed green. Others had no hair at all, and tatoos covered their heads. They had piricings in unlikely places, and all were just shouting in some rhythm about how stupid everything is. Lestrade grinned at Holmes' stunned expression. "Those are punk rockers."

Holmes ran his hand through his blond, messy hair. "Lestrade, I am not spiking my hair."

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ok, please review, give suggestions, anything! Then I'll write the next part even better, with help from you guys!!