Greg Meet Jim - A 221B Ficlet
Written for the AO3 birthday collection to celebrate Rupert's birthday on June 30th and featuring two characters that he hasd played that I felt should have a scene together.
Happy Birthday Rupert!
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An awkward silence fell as the tall dark haired man pushed the door open and entered the squad room. Everybody knew who he was and why he was there. More than one of them glanced in the direction of Sally Donovan before averting their gaze and trying to look busy.
Dark brown eyes took in everything with a single sweep of the uncomfortable faces and the awkward body language and he knew that this was going to be one of the more difficult investigations that he had, had to conduct since joining Internal Affairs.
"Lestrade?" he asked the first officer to look him in the eye.
"Last office on the right, Sir."
He nodded his thanks and strode in the indicated direction. The glass fronted office had the words DI Lestrade etched on the door and with an almost imperceptible straightening of his stance he rapped on the glass.
A worn, tired looking, grey haired man glanced up from the file he'd been reading. With a resigned air he waved the younger man in and rose to greet him. Lestrade paused with his hand extended as his own face looked back at him.
"DI Jim Marquez," the man who could so easily have been his younger self said, "now why don't you tell me about this Sherlock Holmes is a fraud bollocks?"
Happy Birthday Rupert!
********
An awkward silence fell as the tall dark haired man pushed the door open and entered the squad room. Everybody knew who he was and why he was there. More than one of them glanced in the direction of Sally Donovan before averting their gaze and trying to look busy.
Dark brown eyes took in everything with a single sweep of the uncomfortable faces and the awkward body language and he knew that this was going to be one of the more difficult investigations that he had, had to conduct since joining Internal Affairs.
"Lestrade?" he asked the first officer to look him in the eye.
"Last office on the right, Sir."
He nodded his thanks and strode in the indicated direction. The glass fronted office had the words DI Lestrade etched on the door and with an almost imperceptible straightening of his stance he rapped on the glass.
A worn, tired looking, grey haired man glanced up from the file he'd been reading. With a resigned air he waved the younger man in and rose to greet him. Lestrade paused with his hand extended as his own face looked back at him.
"DI Jim Marquez," the man who could so easily have been his younger self said, "now why don't you tell me about this Sherlock Holmes is a fraud bollocks?"