ADVENT DAY 2: Too Many Eggs in One Basket (PG-13)
IT'S ONLY HALF AN HOUR LATE. DAMN YOU AND YOUR SEDUCTIVE PROMPT, NEI! TITLE IS TOTS APPROPRIATE! AND THIS SUCKS SO HARD.
Title: Too Many Eggs in One Basket
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: Sherlock/NCIS/White Collar/Leverage
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Date: December 02
Author’s Notes: For Nei who makes me do crazy things. Unbetaed and britpicked. Done in the last hour.
--------
It started when Lestrade lost his mind and decided to work the Christmas shift. He had New Year's plans that involved drinking and dancing with people he'd never see again so it made sense to work on Christmas.
It was after he'd signed on to do it that he realized that no one signed on for the Christmas shift. By then, it'd been too late and he was on the roster with a lot of grumbling co-workers.
Most of them were unhappy because they'd wanted to spend the holiday with their families instead of dealing with the usual work crap, paperwork and crime. That wasn't such a big consideration for Lestrade, though some quiet time at home would have really been a gift.
When he'd been a rookie it had been a fucking nuisance to deal with the domestics that cropped up on Christmas because of the number of relatives that were packed together in one space that lead to screaming rows and destroyed property.
Now, it was all too easy to get into a dark mood when a murder crossed his desk during the hols.
Nevertheless, coming into work on Christmas morning was actually somewhat soothing. The early hour and the holiday meant that most people were sleeping in, even if they usually ran morning errands or took a morning jog.
Lestrade settled into his office, perfectly happy to spend the day going over paperwork.
"Sir," Donovan interrupted with a brisk knock at his open door.
Lestrade felt his gut clench. He knew he was not going to be happy to hear this.
He motioned his DS in with a nod and a wave of his hand. "We've got a call from St. Paul's, sir."
Lestrade has the feeling that this was what was going to make his day hell.
He was right.
----
It was the first time that Lestrade had walked into St. Paul's without being greeted by that hushed feeling that urged him to quiet his breathing and made him wince at every step that squeaked.
A jumble of voices were caught and amplified by the architecture of the cathedral. Loud, grating, American voices stood out amongst the rest.
There was a huddle of people, some standing and gesticulating and others sitting in the pews.
Lestrade has been met at the door by an anxious Reverend that started speaking as soon as they'd stepped foot inside. Lestrade calmed him and told him that they needed to speak with the man who'd noticed what was wrong and take the statement of every one of the Cathedral's people. The Reverend nodded and was off.
Lestrade turned to the arguing group that'd been detained. Their voices were growing louder. There were two harried looking officers, trying to keep the peace as they were hounded on all sides.
Lestrade said a quick prayer, just in case, and took a deep breath. His piercing whistle reverberated off the walls echoing on and on and causing everyone to jump and shut their gobs.
"If everyone would sit down, we could have this resolved quickly and all of you on your way to enjoy the rest of your holidays." Lestrade knew how to work a crowd of people, one of the reasons he'd been promoted to DI. Working that crowd did not include reporters or television, however.
He turned to address the men on-scene, not showing any hesitation or hint that he'd be open to questions.
He'd been briefed on the way, the cathedral's library and the fabric archive were found unlocked, with signs of recent and unauthorized entry.
There had been a great flurry of activity as the librarian demanded that the doors be closed, the police be called, and everything sorted through.
It was a bloody nightmare and Lestrade was starting to wish, with dark humor, that it'd been a dead body.
"Harris--" Lestrade began.
"Excuse me, sir?" The acoustics were an annoyance he really didn't need and the American accent just set his teeth on edge. He hated tourists.
Lestrade stopped and turned to the interloper. A young man, clean shaven, with an open smile that was clearly meant to put Lestrade at ease. It didn't. A young woman, pretty despite the frown on her face was next to him.
"Listen, this will all go very quickly if you just sit--"
He was interrupted. Again. "Listen, we don't want to step on any toes here, man. Whatever's going on here, we really just want to help--"
"You can help by--"
The both reached into heavy coats and Lestrade tensed, along with his people. Maybe it was a stereotype but Americans and their fondness for guns was at the forefront of his mind.
The couple withdrew thin black wallets and flashed them quickly. "Agents Leonard and Elmore, FBI. I know we don't have jurisdiction here, but we are witnesses so I think we could really help if--"
Lestrade exchanged looks with Donovan; he hoped he didn't look as annoyed as she did. "FBI? You two are partners? On vacation together? What office are you working from?"
"San Diego. And Elmore and I are very close. She saved my life. There was this mafia gang--"
"In San Diego?" Donovan asked skeptically.
Leonard nodded. "Stopped them, didn't get very far into the heart of our fair city. Couldn't imagine letting them loose in our streets. Wouldn't be safe for Comic Con and that would just be sacrilege, man. Sacrilege."
They all stared. Even his partner.
Lestrade was getting a headache. "You can really help by sitting down and waiting to be debriefed, Agents."
Of course, someone else spoke up. "If this is the time to start flashing shiny badges, I think it's our turn."
The man was grinning, pretty and dressed to the nines. His companion was a tall, skinny streak of nothing that looked all of twenty, and was glaring at his partner like he wanted to kill him. Lestrade was starting to feel like he was on a particularly bad telly show.
"Who're you, then?" Lestrade asked.
He had his own badge out in a moment. "Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee, NCIS."
"Never heard of it." Singh, Harris' partner, spoke up.
Frankly, neither had Lestrade.
"Is that like CSI?" Harris asked.
DiNozzo's charming grin froze and became forced. Lestrade told himself that he was not amused.
"Naval Criminal Investigative Services, actually. We're Navy Cops."
Lestrade was never taking the Christmas shift again. Even if he had to become DCI to do it.
"Anyone else? Have we got any CIA? NSA? MI-5? Police Nationale? Carabinieri?" Lestrade asked with as much sarcasm as he dared.
"Actually..."
Another American. Didn't they have their own country to populate during Christmas? Was there an invasion he hadn't been briefed about because if he had to hear another earnest sounding Yank he was going to do something drastic. Like turn the entire mess over to Donovan who'd take great pleasure in subjecting them to long hours of questioning.
This one was blue-eyed and wearing a fedora. A fedora! And Donovan was giving him a second look. Lestrade was faintly grateful that Anderson didn't need to be called in on the case. He didn't have it in him to deal with the silent row they'd have while on the job.
"I'm a consultant with the FBI's White Collar division in New York," he smiled winningly. "I really need to call my partner, Peter Burke."
"Sir," Donovan said in a low voice. "This is an absolute cock-up."
Lestrade couldn't disagree. He was also tired of playing the soft-touch.
"There's been a crime committed here. In London. Not in San Diego, not in New York, not on American soil. That makes this my case, which means that no matter how impressive you are when you're at home you will sit down and follow instructions."
They all sat. Some more promptly than others. Whoever trained those Navy cops had done a good job.
"Shades of Gibbs," McGee whispered. DiNozzo was nodding. "Only, British."
The FBI consultant was smiling and twirling his fedora, causing the eyes of most of the women, and some of the men, to be drawn to him. His expression only turned more coy.
Leonard looked like a kicked puppy and Elmore was staring at Lestrade in an unsettling and somehow familiar manner.
"Do you think I could get away with arresting all of them and leaving them for Gregson to sort out later?" Lestrade asked idly.
Donovan didn't look amused. "No, sir."
Lestrade shook his head. He allowed himself another moment to wallow before taking up his mantle again. He set his men on keeping everything in order while he sent a quick text to the boys at the office. If he was going to interrogate these agents he'd need to know that their story checked out.
----
Lestrade sat across from Neal Caffrey. Renowned art thief, forger, and their number one suspect.
The man was completely at ease and smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"So, Tony and Tim got to go home. What about Agents Leonard and Elmore?" Caffrey asked innocently.
"How do you know about DiNozzo and McGee?" Lestrade questioned.
Caffrey's smile turned into a bashful grin. "Tony and I got to chatting on the ride over. Charming guy. He stopped by to say goodbye before he left."
Lestrade made a note to chew out whoever had let that happen.
The U.S. Secretary of the Navy had called a higher up and he'd been ordered to let the NCIS agents go.
"Agents Leonard and Elmore have nothing to do with this," Lestrade said.
Caffrey frowned. "They're your thieves, Detective Inspector."
Lestrade laughed. "They were just picked up by their MI-5 liaison, Caffrey. They're here for a seminar."
Caffrey just shook his head. "Peter's going to kill me. First trip off my tracker and I get set up."
Lestrade stilled. That had been rather fast. He'd still been on the scene when the four had been brought in, but the office was still buzzing about the gorgeous MI-5 agent that had already secured Leonard's and Elmore’s release before they'd even made it to the Yard. The NCIS agents had had to wait to make their calls and get things cleared up. It'd taken hours.
The dawning realization must have shown on Lestrade's face because Caffrey actually looked like he pitied him.
Fucking Christmas.
Title: Too Many Eggs in One Basket
Author: Lady Yueh
Fandom: Sherlock/NCIS/White Collar/Leverage
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not my property and no infringement is intended.
Date: December 02
Author’s Notes: For Nei who makes me do crazy things. Unbetaed and britpicked. Done in the last hour.
--------
It started when Lestrade lost his mind and decided to work the Christmas shift. He had New Year's plans that involved drinking and dancing with people he'd never see again so it made sense to work on Christmas.
It was after he'd signed on to do it that he realized that no one signed on for the Christmas shift. By then, it'd been too late and he was on the roster with a lot of grumbling co-workers.
Most of them were unhappy because they'd wanted to spend the holiday with their families instead of dealing with the usual work crap, paperwork and crime. That wasn't such a big consideration for Lestrade, though some quiet time at home would have really been a gift.
When he'd been a rookie it had been a fucking nuisance to deal with the domestics that cropped up on Christmas because of the number of relatives that were packed together in one space that lead to screaming rows and destroyed property.
Now, it was all too easy to get into a dark mood when a murder crossed his desk during the hols.
Nevertheless, coming into work on Christmas morning was actually somewhat soothing. The early hour and the holiday meant that most people were sleeping in, even if they usually ran morning errands or took a morning jog.
Lestrade settled into his office, perfectly happy to spend the day going over paperwork.
"Sir," Donovan interrupted with a brisk knock at his open door.
Lestrade felt his gut clench. He knew he was not going to be happy to hear this.
He motioned his DS in with a nod and a wave of his hand. "We've got a call from St. Paul's, sir."
Lestrade has the feeling that this was what was going to make his day hell.
He was right.
----
It was the first time that Lestrade had walked into St. Paul's without being greeted by that hushed feeling that urged him to quiet his breathing and made him wince at every step that squeaked.
A jumble of voices were caught and amplified by the architecture of the cathedral. Loud, grating, American voices stood out amongst the rest.
There was a huddle of people, some standing and gesticulating and others sitting in the pews.
Lestrade has been met at the door by an anxious Reverend that started speaking as soon as they'd stepped foot inside. Lestrade calmed him and told him that they needed to speak with the man who'd noticed what was wrong and take the statement of every one of the Cathedral's people. The Reverend nodded and was off.
Lestrade turned to the arguing group that'd been detained. Their voices were growing louder. There were two harried looking officers, trying to keep the peace as they were hounded on all sides.
Lestrade said a quick prayer, just in case, and took a deep breath. His piercing whistle reverberated off the walls echoing on and on and causing everyone to jump and shut their gobs.
"If everyone would sit down, we could have this resolved quickly and all of you on your way to enjoy the rest of your holidays." Lestrade knew how to work a crowd of people, one of the reasons he'd been promoted to DI. Working that crowd did not include reporters or television, however.
He turned to address the men on-scene, not showing any hesitation or hint that he'd be open to questions.
He'd been briefed on the way, the cathedral's library and the fabric archive were found unlocked, with signs of recent and unauthorized entry.
There had been a great flurry of activity as the librarian demanded that the doors be closed, the police be called, and everything sorted through.
It was a bloody nightmare and Lestrade was starting to wish, with dark humor, that it'd been a dead body.
"Harris--" Lestrade began.
"Excuse me, sir?" The acoustics were an annoyance he really didn't need and the American accent just set his teeth on edge. He hated tourists.
Lestrade stopped and turned to the interloper. A young man, clean shaven, with an open smile that was clearly meant to put Lestrade at ease. It didn't. A young woman, pretty despite the frown on her face was next to him.
"Listen, this will all go very quickly if you just sit--"
He was interrupted. Again. "Listen, we don't want to step on any toes here, man. Whatever's going on here, we really just want to help--"
"You can help by--"
The both reached into heavy coats and Lestrade tensed, along with his people. Maybe it was a stereotype but Americans and their fondness for guns was at the forefront of his mind.
The couple withdrew thin black wallets and flashed them quickly. "Agents Leonard and Elmore, FBI. I know we don't have jurisdiction here, but we are witnesses so I think we could really help if--"
Lestrade exchanged looks with Donovan; he hoped he didn't look as annoyed as she did. "FBI? You two are partners? On vacation together? What office are you working from?"
"San Diego. And Elmore and I are very close. She saved my life. There was this mafia gang--"
"In San Diego?" Donovan asked skeptically.
Leonard nodded. "Stopped them, didn't get very far into the heart of our fair city. Couldn't imagine letting them loose in our streets. Wouldn't be safe for Comic Con and that would just be sacrilege, man. Sacrilege."
They all stared. Even his partner.
Lestrade was getting a headache. "You can really help by sitting down and waiting to be debriefed, Agents."
Of course, someone else spoke up. "If this is the time to start flashing shiny badges, I think it's our turn."
The man was grinning, pretty and dressed to the nines. His companion was a tall, skinny streak of nothing that looked all of twenty, and was glaring at his partner like he wanted to kill him. Lestrade was starting to feel like he was on a particularly bad telly show.
"Who're you, then?" Lestrade asked.
He had his own badge out in a moment. "Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee, NCIS."
"Never heard of it." Singh, Harris' partner, spoke up.
Frankly, neither had Lestrade.
"Is that like CSI?" Harris asked.
DiNozzo's charming grin froze and became forced. Lestrade told himself that he was not amused.
"Naval Criminal Investigative Services, actually. We're Navy Cops."
Lestrade was never taking the Christmas shift again. Even if he had to become DCI to do it.
"Anyone else? Have we got any CIA? NSA? MI-5? Police Nationale? Carabinieri?" Lestrade asked with as much sarcasm as he dared.
"Actually..."
Another American. Didn't they have their own country to populate during Christmas? Was there an invasion he hadn't been briefed about because if he had to hear another earnest sounding Yank he was going to do something drastic. Like turn the entire mess over to Donovan who'd take great pleasure in subjecting them to long hours of questioning.
This one was blue-eyed and wearing a fedora. A fedora! And Donovan was giving him a second look. Lestrade was faintly grateful that Anderson didn't need to be called in on the case. He didn't have it in him to deal with the silent row they'd have while on the job.
"I'm a consultant with the FBI's White Collar division in New York," he smiled winningly. "I really need to call my partner, Peter Burke."
"Sir," Donovan said in a low voice. "This is an absolute cock-up."
Lestrade couldn't disagree. He was also tired of playing the soft-touch.
"There's been a crime committed here. In London. Not in San Diego, not in New York, not on American soil. That makes this my case, which means that no matter how impressive you are when you're at home you will sit down and follow instructions."
They all sat. Some more promptly than others. Whoever trained those Navy cops had done a good job.
"Shades of Gibbs," McGee whispered. DiNozzo was nodding. "Only, British."
The FBI consultant was smiling and twirling his fedora, causing the eyes of most of the women, and some of the men, to be drawn to him. His expression only turned more coy.
Leonard looked like a kicked puppy and Elmore was staring at Lestrade in an unsettling and somehow familiar manner.
"Do you think I could get away with arresting all of them and leaving them for Gregson to sort out later?" Lestrade asked idly.
Donovan didn't look amused. "No, sir."
Lestrade shook his head. He allowed himself another moment to wallow before taking up his mantle again. He set his men on keeping everything in order while he sent a quick text to the boys at the office. If he was going to interrogate these agents he'd need to know that their story checked out.
----
Lestrade sat across from Neal Caffrey. Renowned art thief, forger, and their number one suspect.
The man was completely at ease and smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"So, Tony and Tim got to go home. What about Agents Leonard and Elmore?" Caffrey asked innocently.
"How do you know about DiNozzo and McGee?" Lestrade questioned.
Caffrey's smile turned into a bashful grin. "Tony and I got to chatting on the ride over. Charming guy. He stopped by to say goodbye before he left."
Lestrade made a note to chew out whoever had let that happen.
The U.S. Secretary of the Navy had called a higher up and he'd been ordered to let the NCIS agents go.
"Agents Leonard and Elmore have nothing to do with this," Lestrade said.
Caffrey frowned. "They're your thieves, Detective Inspector."
Lestrade laughed. "They were just picked up by their MI-5 liaison, Caffrey. They're here for a seminar."
Caffrey just shook his head. "Peter's going to kill me. First trip off my tracker and I get set up."
Lestrade stilled. That had been rather fast. He'd still been on the scene when the four had been brought in, but the office was still buzzing about the gorgeous MI-5 agent that had already secured Leonard's and Elmore’s release before they'd even made it to the Yard. The NCIS agents had had to wait to make their calls and get things cleared up. It'd taken hours.
The dawning realization must have shown on Lestrade's face because Caffrey actually looked like he pitied him.
Fucking Christmas.