Gregory had been sat in his car for more than a couple of hours, looking around him to a calm neighbourhood of Islington and h neck was becoming increasingly stiff. He yawned and took a look at his watch only to acknowledge that he already had looked at it less than five minute before. Rowan Artwood, a junior officer who had joined Donovan's team just a month before, was sat beside him, looking at a small monitor that was broadcasting blurry image from camera that had been placed in order to see through the windows of the number 16 of the street.
"Any movement ?" the inspector wondered, even if there was no chance that the situation had changed in the last couple of minute since last time he had asked.
"No. He must still be upstairs." his younger colleague replied, not even bothering to look at him.
"I swear that if he doesn't go out this afternoon I'll make the one who gave us that information scrub the floor of the yard on their knee and with a toothbrush for the rest of their life." the yarder cursed, not in the mood for having been played at.
Rowan let out a little giggle, sharing the other man's frustration but too polite to complain. He wasn't even suppose to work on this case that had been opened more than a month before his arrival in the forces, but a shortage in the available agent and the close relation between his boss and her ex-boss had him trapped in a car for hours.
He was considering how dull his work was and how it wasn't what he had expected to do when he entered the academy when he detected a move in the corner of one of the room under surveillance.
"Here. In the kitchen." he quickly reacted, pointing out the blurry silhouette to his colleague.
"Am the only one to think that he have changed his outfit or is it real ?" Greg remarked, trying to get a better view at the monitor.
"Yes." his colleague confirmed as he got a better look at the silhouette.
They went back silent as they focused on the moving man on the monitor, relief to finally see a sign of movement after hours of dullness.
The man they were overlooking was pacing around the kitchen, a cup in one hand and something that Lestrade understood to be a phone in the other. It wasn't as a big move as they were expecting, but they had good hopes that it was the sign that he was preparing to exit the house.
As they were still looking at the small screen, the detective's phone rang and displayed a text sent by DI Hebbletwaite informing him that a cellphone signal had been detected inside the house of the man under surveillance, confirming what Greg had deduced. A second text came right after disclosing the main information discussed by the man and his interlocutor and making it sure that he was going to come out of his house soon for a mysterious delivery.
It was one more hour before they saw the man making his way to his lobby and putting on a light jacket. As he opened the door, the two policeman exited the anonymous car and made their way toward him. They placed themselves n front of him but as they were putting their hand in their pocket to grab their badges and show them to him, the man outthinked them and threw a powerful jab to Rowan's face, knocking him to the ground, before he started running down the road.
"Shit." Lestrade thought angrily, turning on his heels and sprinting after his suspect. None of them had ever anticipated that the man could actually try to run away as he was supposed to be nothing else but a little fish and the inspector was not at all equipped for a foot chase. He was sporting some new loafer that Mycroft had brought him back from his last trip to Italy and rather tight trousers that he had though would make him a nice silhouette when he bought them but that were just slightly to small, not that he would have ever admitted that for the world.
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I am not lonely [Mystrade]
FanfictionMycroft Holmes is apparently a very happy man. He have an important job, a stable relationship with a Scotland Yard officer since a couple of years and a -slightly annoying- little brother to take care of. But what if he was missing something ? What...