Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector

Lestrade smiled in response to her gratitude.  He started driving them out of the Met parking lot. “Stalking and cornering people…  I suppose they do do that, don’t they?  I’m no celebrity, though.  They don’t usually get so rabid in my direction, unless I don’t solve a case fast enough for them.”  He shrugged.  “Take care out there by yourself, especially this time of evening at the park.  It’s not incredibly dangerous, but there have been more reports of illicit activity here than normal.”  

“I will.” She smiled at the complement. She actually looked like she could take care of herself. A police officer thought that. About time someone outside of her family took her defensive skills seriously.

“It will be I’m sure.” It almost always was. Unless a stray cat came in and tried to pounce on the birds, or dogs or kids started chasing them.

Lestrade smiled in response to her gratitude.  He started driving them out of the Met parking lot. “Stalking and cornering people…  I suppose they do do that, don’t they?  I’m no celebrity, though.  They don’t usually get so rabid in my direction, unless I don’t solve a case fast enough for them.”  He shrugged.  “Take care out there by yourself, especially this time of evening at the park.  It’s not incredibly dangerous, but there have been more reports of illicit activity here than normal.”  

“I will.” She smiled at the complement. She actually looked like she could take care of herself. A police officer thought that. About time someone outside of her family took her defensive skills seriously.

(Greg Lestrade) "Oy! Were you going to get a bag of chips? The machine gave me a free one and I don't want it." Lestrade approached the young man that was at the vending machine he had just stopped by.

Lestrade nodded along politely, carefully concealing the lingering discomfort and slight irritation behind an interested smile.  “I’m sure your grandparents were very grateful for your help during that time.”  Lestrade began when, mercifully, he got a text message from Sherlock nagging him about a case, any case, even the most boring and dull case.  

(Greg Lestrade) "Oy! Were you going to get a bag of chips? The machine gave me a free one and I don't want it." Lestrade approached the young man that was at the vending machine he had just stopped by.

Lestrade smiled in response to her gratitude.  He started driving them out of the Met parking lot. “Stalking and cornering people...  I suppose they do do that, don’t they?  I’m no celebrity, though.  They don’t usually get so rabid in my direction, unless I don’t solve a case fast enough for them.”  He shrugged.  “Take care out there by yourself, especially this time of evening at the park.  It’s not incredibly dangerous, but there have been more reports of illicit activity here than normal.”  

"Have you seen a lost child around here?" Lestrade approached the gentleman in a lab coat. Was that a toy rabbit in his hands? He pushed his gaze away from the toy. It wasn't his business what other people carried around. Maybe he was holding onto the rabbit for his own kid. Lestrade just needed to find Donovan's niece before Donovan had his head for letting the girl run ahead and get lost.

Lestrade couldn’t help but feel as if he was being checked out by this strange man.  He brushed the feeling of apprehension aside.  “That way?”  Lestrade peered in the direction that the other man pointed.  “Thanks, mate.”  

So she had come back with a prize after all? All the better. One just had to love kids. They were so innocent and spilled everything. Yet they were expert secret keepers, the sneaky little things.

“Auntie Sally said not to talk to strangers.”  The little girl replied, shifting her grip on the cat.  “Detective Lestrade, do you think she’d like him?”  

Iris frowned watched as the reporters were shooed away. She almost didn’t process what the detective had said, lost in her thoughts and relief.

Lestrade unlocked the car doors with a press of a button.  “It’s no trouble.  The park near here is on my way home.”  He got into the sedan and cranked it up.  Naturally, he buckled his seatbelt and waited for the girl to get in.  

“I’m, I uh. Sorry.” She could feel how hot her face was and knew she was blushing like mad. “I’m not a reporter. I just want to go to the park to study birds.” She said this all so softly that it was almost impossible to hear her over the clamor of the reporters.

Lestrade frowned and rubbed his forehead.  “Alright, alright, enough of this.  Let the girl out- and remove yourselves from around my car, because I, for one, would like to have supper tonight.”  Lestrade wasn’t sure if he should try to help the girl out of the crowd or if it would be best to let her shove her way through so they don’t clamor around both of them for the rest of the week.  Denying it at this point would only fuel their excitement, so it was for the best, probably, to not bother.  

(Greg Lestrade) "Oy! Were you going to get a bag of chips? The machine gave me a free one and I don't want it." Lestrade approached the young man that was at the vending machine he had just stopped by.

Lestrade gave the young man a close look before shaking his head.  “I don’t believe we’ve met before.  I don’t go to photography conferences, either.”  He shrugged.  “I apologize, but you aren’t familiar to me at all.”  If only Lestrade was interested in photography and read up on famous photographers.  Alas, but he merely looked perplexed.  

“Ah, I run a photography store and go to so many photography conferences I just assume if I’ve met someone it’s from there.” He smiled and extended his hand for shaking.

“Oh, is that so?”  Lestrade’s interest was piqued.  “I have a friend that’s interested in photography.  Where is your shop?  I’ll have to drop by for his birthday present sometime.”  

Zac smiled and handed him a grey and gold business card. “We’re located in Carnaby Street. Address is on the card. If you know the kind of photography he’s into, I can give you some pointers on what your best bet might be when you come around.”

“Sounds great.”  Lestrade took the card.  Carnaby Street.  Good area.  He could drop by sometime, maybe take Donovan’s niece shopping and spoil her with sweets and toys.  Maybe help the girl pick out something nice for Sally’s birthday.  

News and New Meetings

Greg Lestrade had been having a bad day.  Another murder, one that Sherlock would deem “uninteresting” in that callously nonchalant manner he regularly employed, had shocked the city.  The Flame Gang was stirring up more trouble.  He didn’t have enough concrete evidence, though, to pin it on them.  It made his blood boil.  

(Greg Lestrade) "Oy! Were you going to get a bag of chips? The machine gave me a free one and I don't want it." Lestrade approached the young man that was at the vending machine he had just stopped by.

Lestrade gave the young man a close look before shaking his head.  “I don’t believe we’ve met before.  I don’t go to photography conferences, either.”  He shrugged.  “I apologize, but you aren’t familiar to me at all.”  If only Lestrade was interested in photography and read up on famous photographers.  Alas, but he merely looked perplexed.  

“Ah, I run a photography store and go to so many photography conferences I just assume if I’ve met someone it’s from there.” He smiled and extended his hand for shaking.

“Oh, is that so?”  Lestrade’s interest was piqued.  “I have a friend that’s interested in photography.  Where is your shop?  I’ll have to drop by for his birthday present sometime.”  

"Have you seen a lost child around here?" Lestrade approached the gentleman in a lab coat. Was that a toy rabbit in his hands? He pushed his gaze away from the toy. It wasn't his business what other people carried around. Maybe he was holding onto the rabbit for his own kid. Lestrade just needed to find Donovan's niece before Donovan had his head for letting the girl run ahead and get lost.

Lestrade couldn’t help but feel as if he was being checked out by this strange man.  He brushed the feeling of apprehension aside.  “That way?”  Lestrade peered in the direction that the other man pointed.  “Thanks, mate.”  

(Greg Lestrade) "Oy! Were you going to get a bag of chips? The machine gave me a free one and I don't want it." Lestrade approached the young man that was at the vending machine he had just stopped by.

Lestrade gave the young man a close look before shaking his head.  “I don’t believe we’ve met before.  I don’t go to photography conferences, either.”  He shrugged.  “I apologize, but you aren’t familiar to me at all.”  If only Lestrade was interested in photography and read up on famous photographers.  Alas, but he merely looked perplexed.