The reader is thirty-five in the story.
(Y/n's POV)
I was sitting in an interrogation room waiting for the detective or whoever to come to question me.
I sat back in my chair and kicked my feet up on the cold metal table. Like magic, a detective opened the door appearing from seemingly nowhere. I knew they were hoping to get me to crack under the pressure of isolation, but this isn't my first time in a police station.
"Get your feet off the table!" A tall funny looking man ordered me as he entered the room.
"Ah shove off, I'll do whatever I want," I responded with a smug smile.
He then pushed my feet off the table and I did not like that.
"Ah help! He assaulted me! You saw him, you even got it on tape!" I shouted at the two way glass window. Of course, I was only acting and trying to get a rise out of the detective.
"Sit the fuck down." He shouted at me. Instead, I just winked at him and leaned back against the wall.
"Make me!" I said smugly.
"Fine whatever, stand! But you're the one facing the murder charge not me." He spit from his chair behind the table.
"What is your name?" I asked cooly, finally walking over and sitting down.
"What?" He asked, clearly taken aback.
"What. Is. Your. Name?" I asked slower so he could understand.
"Anderson, why?" He asked suspiciously.
"Because I like to know the name of people before I punch them," I said, then gave him another wink.
Before he could even say anything, I socked him in the nose. The hollow sound that came from him coupled with his dazed look told me I had broken it.
As per usual, the other police officers rushed in and handcuffed me to the chair and the table, but it was worth it. The guy was a prick.
I waved as we were ushered out of the room, blood dripping from between his fingers. Ah, that was a good one.
(Greg's POV)
"He didn't do it," Sherlock said from beside me. We had just watched the suspect (Y/n) (Y/l/n) punch Andersen in the nose, and I hate to say it, but I'm more or less glad he did.
"And why didn't he do it? He just punched Anderson in the nose over it." I responded a bit surprised.
"He didn't punch Anderson because he accused him of murder. He punched him because he didn't like how he was being spoken to." Sherlock responded flatly.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because, when Anderson mentioned the murder charge, his face didn't change. He knows what he's in for and he doesn't seem to want to fight that fact. People who committed a murder like this don't usually take credit for their work. He is not a serial killer. His demeanor changed however when Anderson started acting aggressively, as he normally does. Watch, let me go in there and I'll prove what I'm saying."
"No Sherlock, I'll take care of it," I said with a sigh.
I left the room behind the mirror and entered the interrogation room calmly. (Y/n) looked up to me and smiled.
"Ah finally, they are sending in the cute detectives, I was wondering how long it would take you all." (Y/n) said calmly.
"My name is detective Greg Lestrade," I said taking a seat across from him.
"That's nice, but I didn't ask." He responded snarkily.
"I know, but I figured since I already know your name, that you would appreciate knowing my name."
"Hm, and he's thoughtful. Cute, thoughtful, a detective, the whole package."
I ignored the comment and continued questioning him.
"And why did you murder that guy?"
"Because he made me angry."
"And what type of gun was used to kill him?"
For a moment, I saw the tough exterior break and a small hint of fear passed through his eyes.
"A, um, a Kimber K6s. Yeah, I don't use her too often but she sure does the job doesn't she." He responded trying to regain the tough exterior that was starting to crumble.
"And what was the victim's name?"
"Why should I care? He made me mad so I killed him." He responded leaning back in his chair again.
"Well, I figured that you would have found out his name because you asked Anderson his before you punched him. I just thought that you would do that for anyone you decided to hurt. Also, the gun that killed him, it is a Colt Cobra, not a Kimber K6s, but good guess."
I stood up and unlocked the cuffs that were anchoring him to the table and chair.
"Why did you uncuff me? What if I tried to punch you too."
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you didn't kill that man, but you know who did."
"Fine, maybe I didn't kill him, but what makes me think I know who did?"
"Well, you were the one found with the gun on him, yet you couldn't tell me the type of gun it was. Also, I know that the two other people that were with you were your best friend and your little sister. So I figure it was one of them and that you are trying to protect them." I said pulling up my chair next to him and getting in really close.
"Maybe it was your little sister. Maybe you were covering for her because she accidentally killed him." I said, apparently I had gotten a little too close because he stood up and tried to grab my throat. I was faster and I pinned him to the wall with my arm.
"You leave my sister out of this! She didn't do anything, she is innocent." He yelled in my face. There was more anger than fear so I believed him when he said she was innocent.
"Well then maybe it was your friend. It was his cobra after all. Maybe you're covering for him because you care about him." I paused for a moment and studied his face thoroughly.
"No, that's not it. He is going to kill you if he gets arrested, won't he? No wait, not just you, you and your sister. How close am I?" I said letting him down from the wall and stepping back for a moment.
"Just protect her, please! I never meant to tell you, but now that you know he is going to have us killed. Please protect us. She is all I have and I am all she has, you have to understand." He pleaded, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
"So you were going to go to jail and leave your sister alone?" I questioned.
"No, it's not that. My friend promised to take care of her if I took the fall. Please, I was doing this for her."
"I will make a deal with you since you were only trying to protect your sister. Tell me everything that happened. Let me ask your sister and friend what happened as well. Then I'll compare the stories and if I believe you and your sister, then I'll let you both go. I'll also give you two protection until I deem it safe, okay?" I asked sitting down at the table and motioning for him to do the same.
"Will you be one of the people protecting us?" He asked as he took the seat I offered.
"No, I'm sorry, I can't-"
"Please, you have been the only person in this whole place to treat me like anything but a criminal."
I have no idea what came over me but I nodded and agreed to be one of the officers to protect them. I suppose I can put Donovan in charge while I'm gone.
"So, please tell me the story."
For the next hour, he told me every detail I had ever hoped to know. Every detail matched up with Sherlock's description of the scene, even the position of the victim.
Once he had finished I had two of my men take him to a conference room instead of the jail cell. It seemed an appropriate venture of goodwill.
Next, I questioned his little sister, she was only ten and was terrified. It took me a little longer to get the story out of her because of how scared she was, but once I got it, it matched (Y/n)'s to a T.
I sent her to the conference room and commenced the interview with the friend. I had Sherlock join me as more or less a human lie detector. I hoped it would make it less suspicious that I knew he was the killer. It seemed to work. The guy, after a bit of threatening, and corrections from Sherlock spilled his guts to us.
We cuffed the guy and sent him back to the jail cell. I thanked Sherlock and John before I slipped off to the conference room to talk with the siblings again.
(Y/n's POV)
I was talking to my sister and trying to comfort her when there was a knock on the door. The door opened to reveal the nice detective from earlier, Greg Lestrade. I nodded my head toward an open chair to indicate that he should join us.
"So it looks like I will be taking the first shift for protection tonight. Then tomorrow, Donovan will relieve me, and the cycle will continue until after his court date." He said with a hopeful smile.
"Will we have to testify?" I asked with concern.
"No actually, he told us everything and actually confessed, so he has no idea that you two told me anything." He said reassuringly.
I breathed a sigh of relief and gave him a grateful smile.
"Thank you so much for all you have done for us."
"Of course, just doing my job. So my shift ends in two hours and I would feel better if you two stayed here until I could drive you home if that's okay with you?"
"Yes, that sounds like the best idea."
"I will have Donovan show you two around so you can get to know her okay?"
I nodded and he stood, and held out his hand to shake. I took it, and it was warm, comforting in a way. Then he left and a woman with curly hair entered the room.
"Hello, I'm Sergeant Sally Donovan, and I will be showing you around while you wait." She said sweetly, almost too sweetly, like she was faking it.
"Thank you," I said standing up and holding out my hand to my sister to hold because she was still nervous.
We followed her out of the conference room and almost walked into two men. One was a very tall man with curly hair, and the other was a shorter man with sandy blond hair.
"Oh, um excuse me I didn't see you there," I said, stepping out of their way.
"It's okay, you are (Y/n) right?" The shorter one asked.
"Ah yeah, who are you?" I asked a bit on edge.
"They are no one, just a wannabe detective and his doctor friend," Donovan said harshly, trying to get us to move on.
"I am John Watson and this is Sherlock Holmes, we both worked on your case. Sherlock was the one that got your friend to admit he had done it." John said with a friendly smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Sherlock!" My sister said sand ran up to him hugging him around the legs.
Sherlock froze and I had to pry my sister off of his legs.
"I'm sorry Mr. Holmes, she is just a little intense right now."
"It's fine. You are welcome, small child." He said before walking past us toward the elevator.
"Ha, sorry about Sherlock, he is a bit eccentric," John said before following his friend into the elevator.
"Ugh, I hate those two!" Donovan exclaimed once the doors to the elevator closed.
"I don't know, they seemed pretty nice to me." I countered.
"Well, you only just met them." She responded, starting to get a bit defensive.
"I have to use the bathroom!" My sister exclaimed, breaking the tension.
Donovan was showing us the very exciting legal department when Greg found us to drive us to our house. He dismissed Donovan and walked us out of the building.
My sister was beginning to become fussy so I gave her my phone and headphones so she could play her games.
"If you don't mind me asking, where is there such a big age gap between the two of you?" Greg asked once he was sure my sister couldn't hear.
"My parents fostered children ever since I could remember. They used to say it all started with me. My parents couldn't have children of their own, so they adopted me. Throughout my life, they fostered over sixty kids. My sister here was never adopted for some reason, so my parents decided to adopt her themselves. Then they were killed in a car crash, so I, as her next of kin, adopted her. That's why I said it was only the two of us left." I explained while looking at my sister.
"I can tell you really care for her. It's refreshing to hear a good adoption story. But for every good case, a hundred horrible ones pass through my desk." Greg commented. Both of us fell quiet for a moment, but when I decided it was my turn to ask the personal question.
"May I ask about that tan line on your finger."
"Hm, you are just as observant as Sherlock. I'm divorced. She was cheating on me with a P.E. teacher." He responded sadly.
"How lovely. Well, I don't know if it's much comfort but she didn't deserve a man as kind as you."
By this time we had made it to his car in the parking lot. I buckled my sister in the back and figured she was okay since she had my phone, so I sat in the passenger's seat.
I directed Greg where to go, and soon enough we had made it to my block of flats. We both talked the whole time, and it was, nice to have an adult to talk to for once.
Once we got inside, I sat my sister at the kitchen table to do her homework while I made dinner. Greg checked the flat but soon returned to the kitchen.
"Do you like dino nuggets and chips because that is all we have, sorry?" I asked Greg as he sat down at the table next to my sister.
"Oh, um, yeah that'll be fine." He commented with a shy smile.
"So Alice, what fruit do you want? Apples or grapes?" I asked after I put the chips and dino nuggets into the oven.
"Eww neither! Fruit is icky!" She responded.
"Fine, grapes it is!" I said knowing she hated grapes.
"NO. I want apple slices please." She said.
"Oh, please and everything. Thank you, Alice."
I started to cut the apple when Alice asked me about a problem with math.
"What Alice honey?" I asked turning around to help.
"It's okay (Y/n), I can help her, you just finish dinner." Greg could sense the exasperation in my voice.
"Thank you, Greg," I responded with a smile.
After dinner, Alice and Greg finished homework while he let me take a much-needed shower.
When I got back, they were both watching Spongebob. I looked at the time and it was 9:00.
"Oh Alice, it's bedtime!" I said picking her up off of the couch.
"No! I don't want to go to bed! I want to stay up with uncle Greg."
"Alice, I don't think you should call him that."
"No, it's okay, I told her she could," Greg responded with a smile. "I hope that's okay."
"Oh yeah, it's fine," I said smiling back at him.
"Come on Alice, bedtime."
"Fine!" She complained.
Once I had put her to bed, I came back out to the living room and sat down on the couch.
"You don't have to stay up you know, only I have to do that." He joked with a small smile.
"I suppose you're right. Usually, I stay up and do some work, but it's been a long day. See you in the morning, Greg. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. There's beer in there too. If you want some water, cups are in the second cupboard from the right," I said before walking back to my room.
"Thank you, sleep well." He called after me. I smiled to myself.
I sat up straight in my bed, my heart was nearly beating out of my chest. It took me a moment to remember that I was in my room and not back at the scene of the crime. I calmed myself, and tried to go back to bed, but I couldn't seem to fall asleep again. So instead I quietly got up and went out to the living room. Greg was reading one of the books from my shelf. I felt silly, almost like a child running to his parents after a bad dream.
I suppose he could feel my presence because he turned around to look at me.
"Bad dream?" He asked setting the book aside.
"Good guess. How did you know?" I asked while walking over and sitting on the couch next to him.
"More or less an educated guess. But you also look like you just saw a ghost." He said matter-of-factly. "Want to talk about it?" He offered.
"Yeah, that'd be great," I admitted.
"Well, go ahead, whenever you are ready."
"Well, I was back at the scene of the crime, and my friend had just shot the man. I was hiding my sister's eyes like before, but this time she struggled out of my arms and ran over to the dead guy. She tried to wake him up, and my friend shot her as well because she was a 'liability'." Once I explained the dream I felt like an idiot. It was just a stupid dream, why was it bothering me so much.
"Sometimes I get dreams like that too, they were worse when my wife and I were together because she used to be in them. But now, it's more about seeing the faces of the victims in my mind." He admitted sadly.
"Does it ever get better?" I asked, moving a bit closer to Greg instinctively.
"Some days are better than others, and the pain can fade, but it never really goes away."
"I'm sorry Greg, your job is so much harder than I imagined." I sympathized by putting my hand on his knee.
"They say you should quit when it stops getting to you, so I take it as a good sign more or less. It's a twisted way to remember all the good I have done." He said looking up at me with a small smile.
A hush fell over us and his eyes drifted down to my lips, then they darted back up to my eyes.
I leaned in and connected our lips. His hand found its way to the small of my back and pulled me in closer to him. I threaded my fingers through his hair and relished in the contact. It had been a while since I had kissed anyone so intimately.
When we separated, I smiled breathlessly.
"I've wanted to do this since you pinned me to the wall," I admitted with a small smile.
He chuckled quietly.
"I'd be lying if I said that I didn't agree with that. That is why I agreed to watch over the two of you." He blushed.
"Can we do that again?" I asked.
"Definitely." He said, then he connected our lips again.
This time I focused more on the kiss than touching him. His lips tasted like cigarettes, beer, and peppermint chapstick. A strange combination, but one I'm sure I would associate with him for a long time.
"Peppermint chapstick?" I questioned when we pulled apart.
"It's the only flavor that's colorless." He admitted, a bit embarrassed.
"That's okay, I like it," I admitted before sitting back a little. "What do you say to some beer and some company?"
"Both of those sound great," he admitted with a smile.
"Good," I responded standing up and walking to the kitchen.
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A/n: #7! Hope you all enjoyed it. Sorry, it's so long, I got a bit carried away.