Fic - We're Not Friends
Title: We're Not Friends
Author: szm
Charaters: John, Lestrade, Donovan, Kitty
Rating: G
Spoilers: End of series two
Disclaimer: It all belongs to the BBC. Not me. No money is made from this.
“You shouldn’t hang around crime scenes, you’ll get a reputation,” said Lestrade sitting at John’s table.
John smiled his best ‘who me’ smile. Not that he expected to Lestrade to be fooled. “I’m just having a coffee. Is there a crime scene around here?”
“You’ve been outside this café for nearly two hours,” countered Lestrade with a raised eyebrow and half a smile. “And yeah, all that blue and white tape and those flashing lights opposite mean crime scene.”
John sipped his coffee and tried not to wince when he found it cold. “Well you are the expert,” he said to Lestrade.
“Move on, John,” said Lestrade not unkindly. He stood up and John copied the movement.
“Is it the same guy?” asked John as he stood, ignoring the slight twinge from his leg. He wasn’t going back to the cane.
“I can’t talk about this stuff, John. You know that,” replied Lestrade. He sounded earnest like maybe he wanted to talk about it. Sherlock would have pushed, but John’s not Sherlock. Greg had nearly lost his job after Sherlock died. John won’t make him risk it again, not when it’s highly unlikely John will see anything Greg himself doesn’t.
“You’re freaking out Anderson, you know?” said Greg with a real smile this time.
“So the day wasn’t a total waste then?” said John smiling back.
“I should confiscate that notebook,” said Greg nodding to the book on the table. It was full of notes and stuffed with newspaper clippings. All the information John could gather, some of Sherlock’s old contacts bring him things. Some of them think Sherlock is alive and John must be passing the information on. John really wishes that were true.
“It’s private property,” said John “So unless you have a warrant?” Greg looked torn and John couldn’t help but take pity on his friend. “I’m not Sherlock, the answers not in here. Besides, I’m a Doctor. My handwriting is terrible,” said John.
Greg left and John gathered up his things. If this was the same killer, and John was pretty sure it was, that made four murders. He couldn’t help but think Sherlock would have solved it by now, and John had to wonder why he was doing this. He wasn’t Sherlock, and he’s not going to be able to solve anything. Maybe he’s just torturing himself; deliberately putting himself in situations that remind him of the best man he’d ever known.
He was so deep it thought that he didn’t notice her approach the table.
“Helping the police with their inquiries, Doctor Watson?” asked Kitty Reilly. A tape player in her hand. “Carrying on the ‘good work’, so to speak?”
John didn’t say anything. He shoved the notebook into his laptop bag and slung it over his shoulder. Kitty moved to block his path. “Could I interest you in an interview?”
“No,” said John tersely, pushing past her.
“There’s a story here without it,” she said following John out of the shop. “A year on the best friend of the late Sherlock Holmes, continuing his work with the police, that’s a story without your input.”
John spun round to face her. “You haven’t had a big story in a year, raking over your only success? Don’t you dare say his name to me again.”
Kitty grabbed his arm to prevent him from walking away and John genuinely didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Miss Reilly!” came a sharp female voice. Kitty let go of John and stepped back. Donovan jogged over from across the street. “I suggest you move along; there are laws about harassment after all.”
“There are also laws about interfering with police investigations,” said Kitty pulling herself up to her full height, slightly taller than John not quite as tall as Donovan.
“Dr Watson is not involved in any investigation in any capacity,” said Donovan crossing her arms over her chest.
“Are you sure? He spends an awful lot of time with DI Lestrade,” said Kitty tilting her head a little to look Donovan in the eye.
Donovan stared back. “I don’t choose my boss’ friends.”
There was a long moment then Kitty left. Donovan turned to face John.
“Am I supposed to thank you?” he asked.
Donovan shrugged. “Do what you like. If she bothers you again, call me.”
“Don’t do me any favours,” scoffed John.
“I’m not,” replied Donovan. “It’s my job.”
“Four people are dead, you’re not doing it well enough,” said John. “You know if he was still here he would have solved it by now.”
Donovan looked at the floor then back up at John. “Yes, he probably would. So will we.”
“I’m sure the families of the last few victims will find that a great comfort,” retorted John.
“We have procedures; we have them for a reason. I did my job to the best of my ability. I’m never going to apologise for that,” replied Donovan.
John walked away without saying anything else and Donovan let him.
Author: szm
Charaters: John, Lestrade, Donovan, Kitty
Rating: G
Spoilers: End of series two
Disclaimer: It all belongs to the BBC. Not me. No money is made from this.
“You shouldn’t hang around crime scenes, you’ll get a reputation,” said Lestrade sitting at John’s table.
John smiled his best ‘who me’ smile. Not that he expected to Lestrade to be fooled. “I’m just having a coffee. Is there a crime scene around here?”
“You’ve been outside this café for nearly two hours,” countered Lestrade with a raised eyebrow and half a smile. “And yeah, all that blue and white tape and those flashing lights opposite mean crime scene.”
John sipped his coffee and tried not to wince when he found it cold. “Well you are the expert,” he said to Lestrade.
“Move on, John,” said Lestrade not unkindly. He stood up and John copied the movement.
“Is it the same guy?” asked John as he stood, ignoring the slight twinge from his leg. He wasn’t going back to the cane.
“I can’t talk about this stuff, John. You know that,” replied Lestrade. He sounded earnest like maybe he wanted to talk about it. Sherlock would have pushed, but John’s not Sherlock. Greg had nearly lost his job after Sherlock died. John won’t make him risk it again, not when it’s highly unlikely John will see anything Greg himself doesn’t.
“You’re freaking out Anderson, you know?” said Greg with a real smile this time.
“So the day wasn’t a total waste then?” said John smiling back.
“I should confiscate that notebook,” said Greg nodding to the book on the table. It was full of notes and stuffed with newspaper clippings. All the information John could gather, some of Sherlock’s old contacts bring him things. Some of them think Sherlock is alive and John must be passing the information on. John really wishes that were true.
“It’s private property,” said John “So unless you have a warrant?” Greg looked torn and John couldn’t help but take pity on his friend. “I’m not Sherlock, the answers not in here. Besides, I’m a Doctor. My handwriting is terrible,” said John.
Greg left and John gathered up his things. If this was the same killer, and John was pretty sure it was, that made four murders. He couldn’t help but think Sherlock would have solved it by now, and John had to wonder why he was doing this. He wasn’t Sherlock, and he’s not going to be able to solve anything. Maybe he’s just torturing himself; deliberately putting himself in situations that remind him of the best man he’d ever known.
He was so deep it thought that he didn’t notice her approach the table.
“Helping the police with their inquiries, Doctor Watson?” asked Kitty Reilly. A tape player in her hand. “Carrying on the ‘good work’, so to speak?”
John didn’t say anything. He shoved the notebook into his laptop bag and slung it over his shoulder. Kitty moved to block his path. “Could I interest you in an interview?”
“No,” said John tersely, pushing past her.
“There’s a story here without it,” she said following John out of the shop. “A year on the best friend of the late Sherlock Holmes, continuing his work with the police, that’s a story without your input.”
John spun round to face her. “You haven’t had a big story in a year, raking over your only success? Don’t you dare say his name to me again.”
Kitty grabbed his arm to prevent him from walking away and John genuinely didn’t know what he was going to do.
“Miss Reilly!” came a sharp female voice. Kitty let go of John and stepped back. Donovan jogged over from across the street. “I suggest you move along; there are laws about harassment after all.”
“There are also laws about interfering with police investigations,” said Kitty pulling herself up to her full height, slightly taller than John not quite as tall as Donovan.
“Dr Watson is not involved in any investigation in any capacity,” said Donovan crossing her arms over her chest.
“Are you sure? He spends an awful lot of time with DI Lestrade,” said Kitty tilting her head a little to look Donovan in the eye.
Donovan stared back. “I don’t choose my boss’ friends.”
There was a long moment then Kitty left. Donovan turned to face John.
“Am I supposed to thank you?” he asked.
Donovan shrugged. “Do what you like. If she bothers you again, call me.”
“Don’t do me any favours,” scoffed John.
“I’m not,” replied Donovan. “It’s my job.”
“Four people are dead, you’re not doing it well enough,” said John. “You know if he was still here he would have solved it by now.”
Donovan looked at the floor then back up at John. “Yes, he probably would. So will we.”
“I’m sure the families of the last few victims will find that a great comfort,” retorted John.
“We have procedures; we have them for a reason. I did my job to the best of my ability. I’m never going to apologise for that,” replied Donovan.
John walked away without saying anything else and Donovan let him.