Mr. Inspector

Lestrade sneezed when he came out of the study quickly.He reached out and pulled off the glasses on the bridge of his nose, rubbed his temples wearily, and then turned his head to look at the sky outside the window.It was a tinted glass window, installed in the corner of the apartment's living room, with white shutters half-rolled.There is only such a window in the whole living room, which reflects the cautious character of the owner.

By this time it was already dark.The sky in London was getting dark quickly, and the huge sky covered the entire city without leaving a single gap, making people panic.

"Damn it, I can't stop for a moment." Mr. Inspector cursed in a low voice, then hurriedly picked up the black windbreaker that he had worn for nearly a week from the sofa, and strode out of the apartment.

The key and the police officer's ID are all safely hidden in the right pocket of the trench coat, while in the left pocket is a crumpled movie ticket, which is the latest movie.

If it wasn't for the nasty smuggling case recently, maybe—oh no, he must be leaning comfortably in the theater seat, holding a cup of freshly ground black coffee in his hand.That's the right way to spend the weekend instead of going out on this dreadful rainy day doing all these pointless research.

But now even God, the old man, would not forgive him for his leisure, not to mention the entire London press corps carrying long guns and short guns.Thinking of the predicament of being entangled by the media from all directions these days, Lestrade felt a little uncontrollable headache.

I don't know who got the news, and I made a lot of hype, saying that the smuggler escaped with the connivance of the police... Now that's all right, the responsibility is all on him.

Mr. Inspector touched his chin, which had not been shaved for several days, and sighed.If you look in the mirror, you might be able to see the clear blood in your eyes...

——With such a look, he is really worthy of the title of Scotland Yard.

……

He managed to get to his current position, the detective of Scotland Yard's serious crime investigation team, and he didn't want to go back to the life of a poor little detective in the past.At that time, it was because he was worthless that his wife left with the child.

"Bloody hell!"

Mr. Inspector swears angrily. If his wife were standing here, he would give him a middle finger without hesitation.

It's a pity that she seems to be on a leisurely vacation in Spain.

And no matter how you look at it, life is much better than yourself.

At night, Scotland Yard, in a tense discussion atmosphere.

"Have you found out the identities of these suspects?" Lestrade put one hand in his trouser pocket and propped one hand on the desk, scanning the detectives of the serious case investigation team.He kept a straight face and looked serious, trying not to reveal how hungry he was.

Edman took the lead in raising his head from the computer in front of him, stroked his half-parted bangs, and said, "From the current investigation, they should be a smuggling gang that has existed for a long time, and now only one person's identity has been revealed." It came out, a Greenwich bank clerk named Alex Thomas, aged thirty-five, who we all agree was a member of the gang dealing in the London market."

"I think we can start an investigation from his family." The big Simon stood in front of his desk and suggested in a rough voice.

"Sent someone there." Edman said, taking a big gulp of the Coke he was holding in his mouth, "His wife claimed to disassociate with him, both daughters are still in school, everything is business as usual, no one will care whether Thomas He will stay in prison for the rest of his life. What a heartless family, I wonder if he is divorced. "

"Can you please stop talking?"

Mr. Inspector gave him a disgusted look, and turned his gaze away.He unconsciously thought of his own similar family situation, and couldn't help being a little upset.

Edman managed to choke on the Coke after hearing his words.

"What about the others, have you found any useful information, Sergeant Donovan?" Mr. Inspector continued to ask.

No one responded.

The people sitting in their seats looked around, but they didn't find the long curly-haired female police officer who couldn't help expressing their opinions in the past.

"Where's Donovan?" Lestrade knocked on the table impatiently, his eyebrows on both sides were almost knotted.

"... She seems to have gone out to eat." There was a weak voice from the corner.

That's great.

Mr. Inspector gritted his teeth and immediately made a decision, "Let her attend the press conference with me tomorrow."

"Okay." After hearing his order, assistant Ellie quickly wrote it down in the affairs arrangement book she carried with her.

"Go buy me another fast food, double the amount, oh, plus a bag of donuts."

"Boss, haven't you had dinner yet?" Edman asked in an indistinct voice, chewing on the hamburger.

"To shut up."

……

It was midnight when I strode out from Scotland Yard.The sky was drizzling, and the dark asphalt road was also wet.Lestrade grumbled and complained, then walked towards the intersection, silently praying for the taxi to appear.

The Santana he drove by himself had an engine problem a month ago and was sent for repair, but it has not been sent back yet.If energy allows, be sure to write a letter of complaint and send it.

Lestrade tightened his windbreaker, shivering in the cold wind analyzing this case.At tomorrow's press conference, he will give a report on this case. God bless nothing goes wrong.

……

Just when he guessed that he was about to become a drowned chicken before waiting for the taxi, a familiar small black car drove over calmly from a distance. If you didn't look carefully, you would find that it blended perfectly into the night.

The car door opened from the inside, and Mycroft was sitting inside. He said to Lestrade, "Get in the car."

After a little hesitation, Lestrade got into the car anyway.Judging from the current situation, he will have to wait at least five or six hours before he can get a taxi... But then he can go to work directly, and there is no need to go back.

The heating in the car saved him from the cold wind, and Mr. Inspector let out a sigh of relief.

"Busy so far?" Mycroft, who was sitting beside him, asked.

"Hmm..." Lestrade replied in a low voice, "still investigating the last case."

He didn't turn his head to look at Mycroft, since they hadn't seen each other for more than a week since the last time they parted at the apartment... At this moment, he was still a little uncontrollably nervous.

Mycroft sat back in the backseat, maintaining a good upbringing, and then he asked—"Going to your place?"

"To my place, of course."

"Right...then I—"

"You go back to your place."

"That makes sense." He nodded approvingly.

The car drove smoothly, and both of them fell silent.

Lestrade remembered something, "Why did you pass by here suddenly?"

"Oh, I came over from Baker Street to visit Sherlock—but he didn't seem to welcome me very much." Mycroft recalled Sherlock's attitude of not paying attention to his violin when he was visiting... He smiled helplessly, as if he was used to it.

Mr. Inspector nodded his head in agreement, "He's really busy recently."

Mycroft asked knowingly: "Have you gone to find him?"

"I went to ask him about the smuggling case in my hand, and you should know the result..." Mr. Inspector remembered how he was kicked out of the apartment by Sherlock a few days ago, and he was not very willing to continue chatting on this topic go down.

Mycroft gave him a sympathetic look. He knew his brother's character very well, and it was impossible for him to be interested in such a case without any difficulty.According to his own intelligence, Sherlock should be busy wooing homeless people all over London recently, preparing to combine them into a huge intelligence network - I have to admit that this is a good idea.

And this smuggling case...it doesn't matter at all.

It's just that he didn't know how to explain it to the person in front of him. When the two of them were friends, there were many things he couldn't say bluntly. For example, the British government he was loyal to was not the tip of the iceberg...

Every time he saw Lestrade, he swallowed those words consciously.

"arrive."

Lestrade interrupted Mycroft's thoughts.

The car stopped.

After he opened the car door, he realized that the rain was getting heavier, but the parking place was still some way away from the building where his apartment was located——

McCoff took the initiative to hand over the small black umbrella he was carrying with him.

The inspector hesitated for a moment, he knew very well how much the man in front of him was obsessed with umbrella perversion.

"Lend it to you." Mycroft said aloud.

"……thanks."

"Remember to dry it in the sun after the rain."

"know."

"I have to pay it back."

"— let go."

Mycroft let go of his hand, and then watched Lestrade's figure disappear into the rainy night.

He closed the car door and murmured: "If I had known earlier, I would have just followed with a shameless face..."