by Jen (dragonriderjenner at yahoo.com)
After being gone for so long from the whole world of SH22, I
feel a sense of shame and intrusiveness for returning. And so, as a
gift (which I know is not necessary), I present to you the first
chapter of my re-written fanfic, "House Guest".
If Elizabeth Lestrade were to say that she was having a good
day, she would be lying through her teeth. You would be able to tell,
too. If she said that yesterday had been a good day, she also would’ve
been lying. In fact, if you were to ask if she had ever had a good day
in her life, she would’ve replied, "Well, I would have to say that the
only good day of my life was when I got ten billion creds from the
Mesecrusian government." And then you would either ask: "Mesecrusia?",
or "When was that?", because anyone with two creds of sense would know
that there was no such place as Mesecrusia. And she would reply
either, "It’s a province in Antarctica," or "Never." And then you
would leave her alone and she’d be content.
You see, in Elizabeth
Lestrade’s mind, every day was a mediocre day. There once was an
almost-good day. The day that Sherlock Holmes came back to life. For
some time, that day remained an almost-good day. Then, time passed,
and that almost-good day went from being almost-good go being very
You see, Elizabeth Lestrade is fed up with Sherlock Holmes.
Very much so. She has had enough of his condescending attitude. His
condescending attitude and his arrogance. His condescending attitude,
his arrogance, and his insubordination. His condescending attitude,
his arrogance, his insubordination, and that damned inexpressive mask
he calls a face. Oh, how he was smart. And oh, how he was clever. And
oh, how he so loved to flaunt it in front of everyone.
That is the very reason that Elizabeth Lestrade was walking in
the less than presentable part of town. In her street clothes. Without
a weapon. And off guard.
"DAMN him," she muttered darkly, kicking yet another piece of
grimy litter. "He just knows how to turn every damn day into a bad
one." She turned into an alleyway, walking a path her feet knew, but a
path only her darker and earlier memories would admit to knowing. "Is
he deliberately trying to hack me off? Because if he is, I’m gonna
slam his arse. He certainly deserves it, after all he’s put me through
and after all the blame he’s put on my shoulders. Every time he goes
out and does something, everyone expects me to clean up after him. Me!
His superior! He should be cleaning up after me! But noooo. Instead,
he takes my cases, right off my desk, I might add, and goes through
them all, expecting me to be thankful. Well, I’m not. Now they all
think that I can’t handle him. And they’re right! For God’s sake,
they’re damn right. It’s like nothing I do keeps him in line. He’s
always doing whatever his whimsy wants, and expects everyone to bow
down before his holiness. Even Watson’s put off by his attitude.
Watson! His best friend!" She continued ranting like this, following
an unconscious path, until she was stopped by three less than pleasant
thugs who were looking for a little fun and hoping to find it in
Lestrade’s swinging hips.
"Hey, love, what’s wrong? Your boyfriend got you a little upset
there, doll?" said one of them.
At this, Lestrade looked up, clearly surprised and confused at
where she was. She turned about, trying to find some landmarks, but
all around here were garbage-filled alleyways. "Hey. Could you tell me
where I am? I seem to be lost."
The thugs laughed, taking this as a ‘Yes, sure, I’d love to
sleep with you.’ "You’re in Banker Alley, right on the territory line,
babe. Why don’t you come with us, sweetheart. We’ll keep you safe and
Lestrade paled and her eyes widened unconsciously in surprise.
A heavy knot began to tie itself in the pit of her stomach. The men
took this as ascent and two of them reached forward to interlock hers
and their elbows, just as any gentleman should. Lestrade, nerves
suddenly on end, reacted quickly with a quick uppercut for one and a
kick to the stomach for the other. She made to run, but the third
grabbed her by the arm and was thusly received the side of her fist in
his groin. Lestrade was promptly tackled to the ground by the other
two men and was held fast while the third recovered. The knot in her
stomach was growing to an unbearable size and adrenaline was pumping
into every corner of her body. She struggled with much travail, but
their superior weight combined with the force of gravity kept her
down. Finally she surrendered, conserving her strength. She would need
it for what she knew would come next.
However, as luck would have it, an armed passerby noted the
fray and watched as she was forcefully brought to the ground. As she
struggled, he idly pulled out his ionizer and set it to a medium
setting, which would knock them out and cause minor burns. Aiming
carefully, he announced his presence as she grew still.
"Good evening, gentlemen. I do hope you are not harassing the
lady." His cultured English accent caught the three defilers and
Lestrade by surprise. Their eyes caught and stayed on the ionizer and
the end of the short barrel, which glowed dully at them. "Now, I must
ask that you get off the poor lady and let her up. The ground is much
too filthy for such a lovely lady to be laying on, especially face
down." The two men slowly stood and backed away from her and the third
man stood from his place on her legs. Lestrade crawled forwards a bit,
then stood up and ran, only to be caught by the gracious Samaritan’s
outstretched arm. Three shots, fired in quick succession lit the
alleyway, but Lestrade was unable to see his face, as he had pulled
her back to him.
"Now, now," he cooed gently. He turned her around to face him.
"No need to panic, my dear. Come, let’s see you, then." He took a dim
flashlight from his belt and turned it on, holding it over their
heads. Two pairs of eyes widened in surprise. Lestrade shut her eyes
and opened her mouth to scream, not really hoping to draw people, but
hoping that she could at least get him to loosen his sudden one-armed
vise grip around her torso and arms. A pair of vibrantly blue eyes
widened further in surprise. Just as her lungs reached capacity, she
found her open mouth covered by another. Here eyes snapped open, but
the dim gloom had returned. She began to struggle, and snapped her
jaws shut, just missing the tip of the man’s wet tongue. He pulled
away, grinning, and she shrieked indignantly.
"You! You!" She screeched, unable to form coherent sentences in
her fury. "How DARE you!"
He chuckled, then moved his free hand to the back of her head.
She continued to shriek at him angrily ("If you do that again, I swear
I’ll bite your lips of!") He flinched in pain as she stomped and
kicked at his feet and ankles, but pulled her in for another kiss as
she paused for a lungful of air. Lestrade, caught by surprise, paused
in her struggling. She debated biting, but when she felt his velvet-
gloved fingertips against her pressure point, she surrendered, sighing
through her nose. Then everything went black.
And there you have it. I must say, I like it much better
than the old one already.
Introducing the Players
On to Part 2!
Back to the Fanfic index