Part 1

by N.B.D. (Glitterbug880012 at aol.com)

I was bored, so I started another story AND I NEED HELP!!!!!

Lestrade eyed the officer on her left. Tabatha Gregson. Little Miss Perfect, always did everything right. Actually, she had a reason for hating her; every Lestrade since Holmes's time hated the Gregsons, and vice versa.

Grayson had just called the two of them in, watching as an automatic game of visual daggers commenced. "Lestrade, Gregson, I'm assigning you a case."

"Just get to the point, sir." Tabatha flipped her long, blonde ponytail behind her back, rolling her grey-blue eyes.

Lestrade sneered and rolled hers. Prissy, she thought.

"Well, Gregson, I know that your..." He paused, as if holding in something and not trying to let himself explode. "...friend and Holmes probably won't get along, but we have a murder and I think that you four should get working on it."

"Sir, you know him, he won't stand for it. He hates that detective!" Gregson stood up from her chair.

"I don't care, I want to just try it out, all right? Humor me here. Lestrade, call Holmes and get him down here ASAP!"

She turned and grumbled to herself, at the same time questioning who this 'him' was. Didn't matter much anyway. Before she even had a chance, Holmes was there with Watson.

"Chief, I'm here. You must obviously want me for the murder on Hampton Drive."

"Yes, and I don't want to know how you know, but I would like to introduce you to Monsieur A. Dupin."

A tall man came through the door, pausing when he saw Holmes, who looked at him with disgust. "Pitiful excuse for a detective!" he said with a French accent.

"Me? Why, it took you all night to figure out what your friend was thinking!" Holmes shot back.

Gregson was out of her chair and trying to calm the man down. "Dupin, calm down," she said soothingly, he tried to punch Holmes. "As your supervising officer that's an order!" He sat down, still looking at the other man with disgust.

Gregson turned to Lestrade, who had been trying to do the same with Holmes. "Look," she started, "my dead guy and your dead guy may not get along too well, but we're gonna kill each other before we get to the crime scene at this rate. Let's just stop and try to be friends, you and I, okay?"

Lestrade looked down at her hand, apprehensive, then took it and shook. "Okay. Now let's get to Hampton Drive."

They turned to go out the door, and as they left they heard Grayson mutter to himself. "I'm really going to need a pain reliever for this one."

I NEED ideas beyond belief, so come on, help a girl out!


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