"I want you to bring that women to."
"What women?" Lestrade glanced oddly at Sherlock sudden request. Lestrade finished pulling his jacket on as someone knocked on the door. Lestrade loudly told them they could come in, and there you stood, Lestrade's young apprentice, as John once called you. Having the unique gift of not annoying Sherlock, you were caused to follow Lestrade and Sherlock around until you simply had to pick up on a few things. Soon you were part of a little detective team, running around London.
"What other women is there but her? Next time bring your coat if you see me." Sherlock smoothly transitioned from talking to Lestrade to you, already striding out the door. Once in the elevator, the consulting detective reached out and pressed a button on the elevator, keeping the doors opened as you came in a few moments later, holding your jacket in your arms. Sherlock let go of the button and pressed another for the ground floor. John rubbed his eyes, wondering if he actually just saw Sherlock do that. Sherlock never did such small acts of kindness like that. He never had the patience to tolerate people in such ways.
"In case this helps, Lestrade, it was the wife." John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's immediate answer- they were still in the elevator, for goodness's sake. Lestrade looked a little insulted and annoyed in a oddly calming way, but you looked at Sherlock with a curiosity.
"How do you know?"
After Sherlock's long-winded explanation which you applauded, Lestrade and John shared a look. So that was why Sherlock liked having you around. You constantly complimented him and admired him like no other. No other than John, that was.
Sherlock was more of an egoist than sociopath.
"So, tell me how the crime was committed."
Lestrade glanced down quickly at the papers in his hands, humming slightly as if he was distracted and hadn't heard Sherlock. Watson looked around, trying to spot what Sherlock did. But there was no body, and nobody to speak.
Nobody but one who at least felt as if they should. "Um, there's a broken lamp which was on the coffee table next to the couch. There's a stain on the table, so maybe the victim got poisoned from food and tried to stand up, and collapsed against the vase. Or maybe somebody suffocated him with that out-of-place pillow, and in the struggle he hit the vase. Or maybe the vase is just from his pet cat hitting it..."
Your confidence faltered when you noticed everybody looking at you. Sherlock swooped down with his magnifying glass as Lestrade raised an eyebrow at you. You bowed your head, you were just a rookie. You should stay out of these things. Even as the pet cat broke a small statue on a table. Even as Sherlock gave you a searching gaze before saying the victim was poisoned. He didn't come out and say it exactly, but he had called you correct.
Lestrade made a mental note to start bringing you to other crime scenes. Just for when his pride needed saving from Sherlock but he still needed help collecting answers.
"Sherlock somehow got the news before us."
Lestrade looked down at his phone where he received a message. A robbery took place in town house just outside of London.
"Not my division -GL."
"Just send the girl -SH."
Lestrade gave a small sigh, worried briefly as if a father, then opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a gun.
"Just because Sherlock always gets involved in trouble. Remember, each shot you fire counts for a whole week of paperwork. If you need me, call. I'll be there." Lestrade seemed worried- this would be your first time at a scene without him. And without anybody else from his division. But it was a robbery, how bad could it be, right?
"Call me every hour. Do you have your badge-?"
"I'll be fine, detective inspector. I promise I won't make any mistakes."
"Sometimes an officer makes no mistakes and still ends up dead."
You merely nodded and Lestrade waved you out. You would one day being doing investigations by yourself. You ought to start learning how to be without Lestrade for such things. But before you even arrived at the scene, he texted you.
"Still alright? -GL."
The words floated around you, 'weapon, gun, not hers. Travelled by taxi, boots with red mud from the outside. Neevous, pretty, antsy.' Sherlock paused his deductions as quickly as possible as he stepped closer to you. But he couldn't stop until he finished the rest of the obvious facts jumping out at him. 'Worried, happy to see me, beautiful, smiling, ethereal.' He questioned ethereal for a moment, there was diethyl ether near you. But then his mind came to understand the second meaning.
He was slightly embarrassed the slowness of his mind, even though it would have been quick for you and nobody else knew his thoughts. The faintest blush dusted his cheeks that you couldn't notice.
"You said there was a robbery-"
Sherlock spun on his heel and lead you into a kitchen. Rose petals were over the table and he sat down, picking up a glass of wine.
"I can't figure out what's missing. So I need someone to play my companion."
"How do you know it's a robbery if nothing is stolen?"
"There is something stolen- no point in explaining it to you. Your simple, mundane mind is much too slow to figure it out. Just drink."
You picked up your glass and took a small sip before looking at the table before you. Nothing seemed to be out place, and you watched Sherlock light two candles. He then brought his hands to his chin, fingertips touching his lower lip as he stared at you through the fire and thought.
"Usually, before a man brings me to dinner, he has to get me flowers-"
"That's it!" Sherlock jumped up from his seat suddenly, leaving you alone without a word. You watched him from a window go outside and hail a cab. And then he was gone.
"Did Sherlock have you killed yet? -GL."
"I hope you know there's only one reply for that. -You."
"Hundred percent fine? -GL."
"Bloody fantastic. He's already gone. -You."
Lestrade didn't pick up on your sarcasm as he asked you to come back then. Only when you were back within NSY HQ did he stop checking his phone every minute like some teenage girl.
He instead kept giving you glanced like a teenage boy.
The next day when you got to work, Lestrade seemed to be tense. He refused to talk to Anderson, more so than usual, and told Donovan not to let Sherlock inside the building. Sherlock still managed to get in during the afternoon though with Watson.
But in the morning, there was a bouquet of pink roses on your desk.
"These were forgotten last night -SH."
Lestrade began to wonder if giving you a bouquet of red roses instead of pink would be too obvious. Instead he stared at his keyboard then began typing up a police report.
Perhaps in some areas, Sherlock would always beat him in a race to the end.