Our taxi pulled up in front of the massive window building they call Scotland Yard. People bustling around all over the place, and from the top of the building you could look down and they would all seem like ants. Like little tiny ants that you can squish with your bare hands. We walked in and I knew that no one recognized me, which was fine.
We stood in the elevator and waited for it to get to the top floor. Over five minutes in the elevator and we haven't even passed the half way point in the elevator which means that either their repair man is out or they don't have a repair man and their elevator is going to break soon, give it two - three years. The light for floors 12 and 13 aren't working and there is no music in here either. They should probably have a look at that.
The elevator stopped at level 15 and it's doors open to a very busy level, full of people talking on the phone and writing things down. It must be so sad to have a memory that can only be measured in nano-seconds. Plus passing by them and all their insignificant shouting is just putting more stupid into the room as we speak.
"Don't say anything."
"But you were thinking it."
We kept walking until we got to the glass office at the end of the hall with the name Inspector Lestrade.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
The door opened to show a fairly older man about mid forties, not much older than the security guards down stairs. His family is still healthy and well but this job has gotten him on the frits, probably something to do with the amount of murders that have been happening all over this bloody town.
"Ah Elizabeth, please come in." We walked in.
"What exactly am I doing here Inspector?"
"Well you're here to help me with some of these cases that have been flying around like dandelions." I looked out his window and at his possessions. Most of which I had seen before and most of which were quite old and probably seen at any office of a well paid inspector.
"Yes, well I could have figured that out from the email. But I am asking you why exactly I am here."
"To help, of course. And I'm sorry,"he turned to Abigail. "I don't think we've properly met."
"Inspector this is Abigail, Abigail this is the inspector that I was on the phone with." They shook hands.
"Nice to meet you." her smile was perfect, poised, like someone had taught her how to put on a perfect fake smile when she didn't want to.
"You as well." his smile was genuine, like he actually wanted to get to know her better. I interrupted.
"I know that I am here to help, but with what. There hasn't been a single clue that you don't already have the help you need and there won't be a clue as to if there will be another far fetched murder here in London. I am fairly sure that you have brought me here just to see me and see how I am doing. Well, as you can see. I am doing very well and so is my colleague, so I think that we shall be on our way." I turned from the window. "Oh and you should probably have the elevator checked." No one moved, when suddenly I heard footsteps outside. Eager and getting closer but the steps behind him were less so and more with a limp, probably from a war, but which one? The door opened with such force that it nearly blew off.
"Inspector, I really think that you should have that elevator checked." And then he took in his surroundings, opened the door wider to come in with his companion. He looked at the Inspector, then at Abigail and finally at me. Our eyes met for the first time in over six years, and they still had the twinkle in them from the last case we worked on together. My breathe was getting heavier and I knew that he would be able to tell that I was somewhat happy to see him in a matter of seconds, just like I had just done. So I decided to speak first.