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[legwork]

Just so we're crystal clear—

Having to keep tabs on one Sherlock's bad enough at it is. What on earth makes you think I'd want another one? And no, that doesn't make me his handler, or his sniffer dog. I just— know how he works, alright? And I'll bet you my last fiver he's climbing the walls on that ship.

Besides— you've got enough on your plate already without having to add me to the lot. You can play at cops and robbers in space another time. But right now, I've got work that needs doing and so do you.

So take the advice: let this one go. You've never been good with this side of the law anyway.

Comments

[adlered]

Of course, you're not his handler. Sniffer dog is decidedly apt, though. Does he let you keep the leash he uses when he needs your assistance?

Or have you been trained well enough to not need one?

[legwork]

[ The look this greeting earns her is that of long-sufferance, but that shouldn't surprise anyone. Under his breath: ] When it rains it bloody well pours, doesn't it?

[ Dryly: ] Ms. Alder. Here's a question: how on earth do you manage to get your hair done up so proper when you've got your head in the gutter all the time?

[adlered]

[ that's cute, assuming she's not listening to hear what he's saying under his breath. oh lestrade, you underestimate her. ] This isn't even a drizzle. Do try not to blow a simple bit of teasing out of proportion.

[ smirk. oh, this is just adorable. if she had a penny for every time someone had made that comment, well, she could buy her own island. ] You'd be surprised at how nice the mirrors are down there. [ a beat. ] Not that I'd expect you to lower yourself to take a look in anyone's gutter. It might be best to leave it to the professionals. Those of us who find them delightful.

[saidhe]

Only the furniture thus far; walls are perhaps something to look forward to.

Besides, the entirety of the Yard on your side and you're still devastatingly outmatched. You couldn't possibly handle me. It's a relationship built strictly on tolerance.

[legwork]

[ He's done the math, made a list and checked it twice. He's allowed long-sufferance if he actually gets punted to this boat. ] Two Sherlocks, Two Alders, Two Johns, a Mycroft, and a Moriarty. Think that qualifies as a bit more than a drizzle.

[ He rubs at his face. His life. ] I'm sure space'll appreciate your entrepreneurship. Really.

[legwork]

[ Lestrade gives this some though, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gives something of a shrug. It seems to only half-concede the point. ] I don't know about that, [ he almost-muses. ] I think you like me. Or— he likes me. Not sure how that all works, really.

In as much as you-he can like anything outside your own 'brilliance', obviously. [ A beat. ] Not talking helps.

[saidhe]

[ He's just going to draw himself in closer to this Lestrade, puffing his chest out a bit as he studies him and also why is everybody taller than him, this is not even a fair thing. ]

Yes, well, you would be easier to like, wouldn't you? You've at least a minor degree of competence. [ That's actually a serious compliment coming from him, so put that in your smoke and pipe it for a bit. ]

Besides, I like plenty. I like smoking. I like tea. Also, mismatched socks.

[legwork]

[ Oh Lestrade's been backhanded enough by compliments that he knows one when he sees it. He's about to make a comment to that effect when he's sidetracked by— ] Hang on, what happened to your sock index?

[ He reads John's blog. He's 'in the know'. ]

[saidhe]

[ Scoffing at his other self. ] I've much better things to do with my time than to spend it organizing socks in various colors and lengths.

[ like crack ]

[legwork]

[ If Lestrade was the scoffing type, he'd certainly scoff scoff back. ]

Like what— two hundred and forty five different types of tobacco ash? Illegal cockfights incognito? Lord only knows what your cave looks like without a fridge to keep half of your mess from going off.

[saidhe]

Two hundred and forty-three!

My cave is both mine, and also cavernous. It's just fine the way it is. [ COCKFIGHTS, what is he going on- ] And that was one time! A man chooses a perfectly suitable means to distract his attention and it goes down in infamy.

[legwork]

Two dozen roosters, Sherlock, ready and roused on the steps of bloody Parliament. It's not the sort of thing we're allowed to overlook, no matter how distracting it is.

Can you deduce how much paperwork's involved in that sort of thing?

[saidhe]

I deduce it's roundabout "the matter doesn't concern me" hundred or so.

It's as if your job entails this sort of thing or something. Isn't that strange?

[ every detective inspector has to keep track of angry chickens okay ]

[legwork]

[ What is his life. ] It's called consideration — that word is part of your vocabulary, isn't it?

I'm betting you've got all of them up in there. Or are we playing at redactions?

[wealldosillythings]

Is it just me or do you sound a bit stressed?

[legwork]

[ His life is very hard, Molly. ]

Safe to say, probably, yeah. [ An inhale and then he straightens his shoulders a bit, squaring them as he gives Molly a bit of a smile (on the grim side. ] Nothing I won't be able to slog through, no worries. Just hoping for a change of heart on her part.

[wealldosillythings]

[She can only imagine. Really, the girl who works with the dead people has it easy, probably]

Anything I can do to cheer you up? [She gives a hopeful shrug. She hates seeing people feeling down or irritated. For the most part, she's an optimist and it usually leads to her trying to offer help] Pray to the mun-gods?

[adlered]

[ and he's found out who's naughty or nice? (oh irene is counting on being on the naughty side if that's the case.) and really, if anyone is going to be allowed to suffer, it's her. what shall she do with all of you. ] Don't tell me that you and John had a falling out. Honestly, there's only three of us who will give you any trouble. It's not like dealing with Sherlock is something new in your job.

[ his life is the best. really. ] I'm not entirely sure they can handle it. Lord knows what sort of repression is going on up there. They might actually pass out before I can do anything enjoyable.

[legwork]

[ Ah, Molly Hooper with her hopeful little smile; Lestrade gives a nod towards it. It makes his own a little less grin. ] Well, that's a start.

[legwork]

Just cause the novelty wears off, doesn't mean it gets any easier. You know the last time I popped round to 221B, I had to deal with an American CIA agent who'd fallen out of a window? Three times. 'On accident'.

[ Okay, despite how exasperated Lestrade might look or sound, he secretly has to admit — the guy had had it coming. ]

Just spare me the gory details, alright? I've just come off lunch.

[adlered]

Oh. He fell out of a window three times? On accident? Strange. He must have gotten tired of falling out of the window. I would have guessed the brute would have gone at least five times before giving up.

[ here's a little tidbit, lestrade, if irene had her way, that man would have fallen out five times. sure, sherlock could have done his three tosses. but irene would have bullied her way into tossing him two more times. oops. ]

A man disgusted by sex. I'd say that's new, but that's a lie. I promise none of it will make you lose your lunch. It'll hardly even make you queasy.

[legwork]

[ Dry dry dry exasperation. ] Not everyone's got your stamina, Ms. Adler.

[ He holds up a hand, waving it about slightly. ] And disgusted's not the word for it. Used to work vice, before I made inspector. It's been a long while since then and safe to say: they did not make girls like you back then.

[adlered]

[ smug amusement. ] You should tell him to go to the gym more. Or work more often. I heard it does wonders for stamina. Not that perhaps you know the full effects, Inspector.

[ she stares at the hand, contemplating grabbing it before deciding against it since it's not really worth the the effort. ] They never have and never will make girls like me unless I let them. After all, I am The Woman.

[saidhe]

If it is, it's buried deep beneath a pile of the injustices you insist upon listing at me.

I only keep the things of importance, voluminous but not including: your birthday, Doctor Watson's detailing of a healthy breakfast, the acting skills of Miss Louise Moore no matter how paltry.

[legwork]

July 27th. [ It's sort of an art, managing to be gruff and deadpan at the same time, but Lestrade's somehow managed it. ] For your information.

[legwork]

[ Fah. "The Woman." Unimpressed! ]

Well acquainted with the literature already. [ small>Lestrade crosses his arms, tucking his hands neatly in the crook of each elbow. ] I'd rather take up a bit of that — what's it called? Ah, right: 'the sudoku'.

[wealldosillythings]

Heh, just don't ask me to throw in any offerings.

[legwork]

Don't worry, hadn't plans to. It's my lot to deal with. [ He nods. ] I'll deal with it.

[ He gives her a glance. ] And what about you? Any plans?

[wealldosillythings]

Oh, me? No, not really. Well, besides dealing with my mun's frustration at finding more icons for me. She's a bit picky, apparently. But besides that, nothing new. Same old me.

[saidhe]

Oh, is the date significant?

[ Holmes has only perfected the ability to smile in a fashion that's both cheeky, warm, and bitter all at once. ]

I fail to see the relevance in remembering.

[theblogger]

I'd say you've got no idea, but you... probably do. [ Rubbing the space between his brows ] I'm sorry, Lestrade. I really am.

[ But misery loves company, so on you come. ]

[legwork]

[ Misery does love company. Which is why the lady at the keyboard is so determined to have him come along. ]

Scale of one to ten. How bad—?

[theblogger]

'bout an eight, I'd say.

[ John is practical, and not a whiner. ]

[legwork]

[ Lestrade actually gives this some consideration. An eight is workable — not pleasant, but workable — but then again, Sherlock's always been workable, otherwise Lestrade wouldn't trust him in the first place. ]

What— with the both of them?

[theblogger]

The other one's a bit more friendly, actually. Different. It's... complicated.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sort of afraid of what they'll get up to together, but they just bicker over the network more often than not.

[legwork]

'Complicated.' [ Lestrade looks dubious at best, but this is John talking and not Sherlock, so there's less taking it with a grain of salt involved. ] Right. Well— listen. You don't have to tell me twice, alright?

The lady upstairs is having second thoughts already, but it's nothing— just a bit of wedding day jitters. [ Lestrade nods, a bit on the sly. ] Say the word and we'll have a sit down. I'll talk her right out of it and be on my way.