Chapter 2a/?velvet_maceOctober 10 2010, 17:28:50 UTC
Greg didn't know whether to tear out his hair or thank the man. Or maybe just laugh, because the situation was so utterly mad. People like Sherlock Holmes simply didn't exist in real life. But the hidden video camera had been found, its contents had been processed, and the murderer been quite thoroughly outted. Case solved before the blood at the crime scene had even dried. And it was in large part due to the very keen eye of random trespasser.
Sherlock sat expressively slumped over his chair and awarded him with a mild appraising glance. "You don't seem to think my offer is genuine."
"Mr. Holmes," he said. "Your offer is tempting, but impossible. What I mean by that is you have a real talent for observation, an almost terrifying one actually, but there are procedures that we have to follow. I can't authorize payment to an outside consultant without there being something tangible to justify his expertise. A resume, a degree, references at least."
Sherlock simply glanced at the ceiling, "I'm not asking for payment. I simply want to help solve your cases."
"And that - the simple matter is, I can't do that. It would never stand up in court." Lestrade ran his hand over his hair. "I mean, look at you, I don't think I've ever seen a less convincing expert. Your clothes are impeccable, but your body language takes casual to a whole new level. And the way you glare and make these absurd and intrusive statements about people's personal lives - things you can't possibly know. It's rude and severely undercuts your credibility. From my experience, Judges seldom have a sense of humor about such things."
"We can work around it," said Sherlock. "Your men and women will gather the evidence and testify in court, I shall simply tell you where to look and what to look for. I can be an anonymous tip." He straightened up a bit. "And what makes you think my personal observations are wrong?"
"Because you can't possibly know that Anderson's marriage is troubled. He hadn't even said a word to you."
"Tell, me, Lestrade, do you require a verbal confession of all your criminals to know if they did indeed commit the crime? I'm perfectly capable of sorting clues. As you've seen."
Greg sighed. "Trust me, those clues you found were … bloody fantastic. Because of them, I might actually get to go home to my family at a reasonable time tonight. But your background -- well honestly, if I didn't know for sure that you didn't commit the murder, I would be looking at you as a suspect. You seem, forgive the bluntness, rather shady."
Sherlock sat expressively slumped over his chair and awarded him with a mild appraising glance. "You don't seem to think my offer is genuine."
"Mr. Holmes," he said. "Your offer is tempting, but impossible. What I mean by that is you have a real talent for observation, an almost terrifying one actually, but there are procedures that we have to follow. I can't authorize payment to an outside consultant without there being something tangible to justify his expertise. A resume, a degree, references at least."
Sherlock simply glanced at the ceiling, "I'm not asking for payment. I simply want to help solve your cases."
"And that - the simple matter is, I can't do that. It would never stand up in court." Lestrade ran his hand over his hair. "I mean, look at you, I don't think I've ever seen a less convincing expert. Your clothes are impeccable, but your body language takes casual to a whole new level. And the way you glare and make these absurd and intrusive statements about people's personal lives - things you can't possibly know. It's rude and severely undercuts your credibility. From my experience, Judges seldom have a sense of humor about such things."
"We can work around it," said Sherlock. "Your men and women will gather the evidence and testify in court, I shall simply tell you where to look and what to look for. I can be an anonymous tip." He straightened up a bit. "And what makes you think my personal observations are wrong?"
"Because you can't possibly know that Anderson's marriage is troubled. He hadn't even said a word to you."
"Tell, me, Lestrade, do you require a verbal confession of all your criminals to know if they did indeed commit the crime? I'm perfectly capable of sorting clues. As you've seen."
Greg sighed. "Trust me, those clues you found were … bloody fantastic. Because of them, I might actually get to go home to my family at a reasonable time tonight. But your background -- well honestly, if I didn't know for sure that you didn't commit the murder, I would be looking at you as a suspect. You seem, forgive the bluntness, rather shady."
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