Local Colour
Sherlock Holmes and DI Lestrade leapt out of the taxi and sprinted into Paddington Station.
“If we hurry we’ll just make the train,” shouted Lestrade.
He flashed his warrant card at the ticket inspector and dashed down the platform followed closely by Sherlock, who appeared to have also waved a warrant card, the inspector noted out of the corner of his eye. Once they had found a seat on the now departing train he thought about remonstrating again about Sherlock’s use of his card but decided to save his breath at least until his body had recovered fully from their rush across London.
Sherlock had appropriated the window seat and opened his laptop. He was soon typing notes on the case that had caused their sudden departure to the West Country. Lestrade started to read over his shoulder, but lack of sleep from the previous night quickly caught up with him and he was soon asleep with his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock ignored the expression of the elderly couple who were sitting opposite and continued steadily typing; he decided that in fact he rather liked the situation.
Lestrade woke up a few minutes before they arrived at Bristol Temple Meads station. He stretched and felt rather embarrassed when he discovered how he’d been sleeping. The elderly couple merely glared at him.
Outside the station they were met by an inspector from the Avon and Somerset Constabulary. Lestrade and Sherlock got into the car and whilst they were being driven through Bristol, Lestrade and his opposite number brought each other up to speed. They had finally made a breakthrough in a drugs operation which led from London to Bristol and from there across to the continent. Sherlock had persuaded Lestrade to let him come with him, insisting that he was the best person to identify the next link in the chain.
Local CID had identified that there was to be a handover of some description in the Nova Scotia. Whilst they were fairly sure they knew one of the men who would be involved, a lorry driver named Griggs, they had no idea who the other party would be. Since there was a clear risk that members of the local force would be recognised it was agreed that Lestrade would go into the pub and hopefully identify the second man. At that point both could be arrested and no word of the arrest would get out for a few hours, so that there was a reasonable chance of the police intercepting the next link before an alarm could be raised.
Lestrade walked into the pub and ordered a pint of Thatchers. Sherlock followed a minute later and stood further down the bar. He noted with horror the slice of lemon that was floating in the cider and ordered a sandwich and an orange juice, muttering something about having to drive. Lestrade took his pint and sat down where he could see Griggs, who was sitting by himself in the corner reading the newspaper. After about fifteen minutes Griggs drained his glass, appeared to debate whether to buy another drink and then went outside. Shortly afterwards Sherlock also left, muttering to Lestrade as he went out “it’s been done.” Lestrade gave them a couple of minutes and then he went out. He found Sherlock standing by the railings looking into the harbour.
“I told DI Sinclair who Griggs’ contact was and they are about to arrest her,” Sherlock said.
“Her?” queried Lestrade.
“Yes, the woman in the fluffy jumper. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice her?”
Lestrade sighed. How, after all the years of knowing Sherlock, did he still let things get past him until they was pointed out.
“Oh,” Sherlock added. “We’re borrowing a car. It’s being dropped off across the road in five minutes. We’re going to Clevedon.”
Lestrade decided not to bother asking why.
The drive to Clevedon was relatively quiet, although Sherlock insisted on pointing out the tractor that was coming towards them as Lestrade overtook a caravan and then lecturing him on the dangers of overtaking at unsuitable points on the road. In retaliation Lestrade started shouting “yellow car” which Sherlock said was completely irrelevant.
Once they had reached Clevedon they parked the car and made their way to the pier, where they were met by four local officers. Together they walked to the end of the pier, where Sherlock said, “I think you will find what you’re looking for on board that vessel.”
“But,” Lestrade spluttered, “that’s the Matthew. What we’re looking for would be able to outrun the coastguards.”
“Ah,” Sherlock replied. “You are assuming that the only way to avoid being caught is to get there first; a risky business. This way you can have strangers going on board wherever you dock and no-one is suspicious.”
He turned round and started walking back down the pier. “There seems little point in remaining here any longer.”
“Okay, we’ll head back to Bristol and get the train back.”
“Are you in that much of a hurry?”
“What?”
“I was listening to you the other day telling John how much you missed the autumns you had at home and how trees in parks were no match for what I believe you referred to as ‘trees in the wild’. Since we’re down here it seems a shame for you not to show me how much better your local trees are.”
“Right, we’ll take the scenic route back.”
Lestrade chose the route that would take them towards Cheddar. Partway along he pulled into a lay-by and stopped the car. He got out and indicated to Sherlock to do so as well. Then he led the way onto a footpath that wound between the trees. They wandered along and Sherlock watched as the tension in his companion’s shoulders relaxed. Reaching up Lestrade picked a handful of blackberries and then gave some to Sherlock, laughing as he crushed one of them, staining his finger.
“Mum always knew when we’d been eating blackberries on the way home from school. And woe betide us if we got any juice on our white school shirts!”
Sherlock pointed questioningly at some round black berries.
“Sloes. They won’t be ready until after the first frosts. Have you ever drunk sloe gin?”
Sherlock shook his head.
“Best not too. It can be very potent.”
They turned around and started to walk back to the car. Lestrade scrunched through a few of the leaves that had already fallen and looked around him. He’d always loved seeing the leaves change and this walk had rekindled many memories. He sighed.
“It’s not over yet,” commented Sherlock.
“What? We need to get back for the train.” Lestrade surprised himself; he hadn’t meant to snap at Sherlock, but the thought of leaving so soon after their arrival had upset him more than he had expected.
“I thought you’d want to stay longer, so I booked a room in a hotel whilst you were asleep on the train. If we hurry we’ll have time for a shower before we have dinner.”
Lestrade looked across at Sherlock. Once again he had surprised him and just for once this was a very pleasant surprise.
