Only the Lonely (FIN)

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

”It gets lonely without a family.” That, Lestrade had to agree whole heartedly with.

After his quick and irksome phone call, Fiona seemed to become notably paler than before. “The Corner? What’s happened? I know the owner – the place isn’t nine blocks from here.” Her panic was becoming obvious, and Fiona continued, “I can show you where it is. It’s about nine blocks from here – the owner’s name is Meg Kelly. She’s sixty-three – The Corner is her bookstore. It’s a kid’s place, though she does sell some teenage fiction as well .She said there’s been trouble in the neighborhood lately, some kind of motorcycle gang problem. Oh, God, I hope she’s okay.” Fiona spouted all of this appreciated but slightly useless information in a hurry, and was already pulling on her coat and looking for keys. Did she think she was coming with him, or something?

“Whoa, whoa, calm down,” Lestrade said reassuringly, taking on a mild version of the tone he took with panicking family members. “The owner’s fine, it was just some neighborhood kids doing some petty crime. She’s just had a bit of a scare. It was just a few teenage boys, stole a few dollars and random and not-rare books from the shelves. I’m not really sure why it even warrants my police visit.” He muttered the last bit more to himself, annoyed. He realized that it might have sounded pretty stuck up though, and added quickly, “Not that I think I’m above this or anything, it’s just… A junior officer really should have taken care of this. But apparently a bunch of the boys have come down with some wretched dose of flu lately, though, so I’m up.” Though, seeing as I’ve spend most of the last few days cooped up in an office with them and I just spend a bit more of the day being drenched in the rain, I’m probably going to come down with it too, Lestrade thought gloomily, not enjoying the prospect of most likely catching ill soon.

Lestrade stopped, and thought for a moment. Fiona obviously wanted to come, knew the owner well, and wanted to make sure she was alright. Which she was, the robbers hadn’t touched the older woman – hadn’t held her at gun point or anything – though, one of them did have a knife. He was all alone for this case though, and hey, he let Sherlock on cases… No, Sherlock was a thousand times more competent than most – rather, all – civilians, and he actually had a good reason to be allowed on crime scenes. But this couldn’t even be considered a crime scene… Not really. Oh, to hell with regulations!

“Miss Price,” he said slowly. “I am breaking quite a few rules by saying this, but… You can come on just a few conditions. Do not touch anything before I tell you you can touch it. Do not disappear. If I tell you to go somewhere, you will go there. Understand?” He tried not to sound too imperious, but they were important rules for her to know. He was a bit of a stickler for rules, after all. “I suppose Miss Kelly will probably appreciate a welcome face, though.” After all, it gets lonely without a family.

[FIONA "FANNY" PRICE]

”Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down,” said the police officer reassuringly as she pulled on her coat. Fiona looked at him, lips in a firm line. Her cheeks tinted red again. I dare you, she thought at him. I dare you. Go ahead. Tell me I can’t come.

”The owner’s fine, it was just some neighborhood kids doing some petty crime. She’s just had a bit of a scare. It was just a few teenage boys, stole a few dollars and random and not-rare books from the shelves. I’m not really sure why it even warrants my police visit.”

[/i]

She raised her eyebrows at the last bit, murmured quietly under his breath. Although I suppose after the years etched on his face, anything less than the Jack-the-Ripper murders is probably not much of a challenge, she thought. The crime was serious to Fiona, and probably to Meg, if only because it concerned them- to Lestrade, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Lestrade continued, speaking quickly. ”Not that I think I’m above this or anything…” Even though I wouldn’t blame you if you did, she thought. ”It’s just… A junior officer really should have taken care of this. But apparently a bunch of the boys have come down with some wretched dose of flue lately, though, so I’m up.”

Fiona blinked. ”I don’t mean to be rude or anything… but how long have you been a police officer?”

He sighed as she made it clear she was coming with. ”Miss Price. I am breaking quite a few rules by saying this, but…” Hope kindled in her heart like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. Maybe he’ll let me come after all! ”You can come on just a few conditions. Do not touch anything before I tell you you can touch it. Do not disappear. If I tell you to go somewhere, you will go there. Understand?

She nodded. ”I understand,” she answered. ”Meg… Meg is like my family- a mother or an aunt I never knew. She’s been there… she was there through the… the harder times.” Fiona looked down, thinking of the days when all her writing had been about death, when she’d looked on the street gangs with respect instead of fear, when the only thing that saved her from cutting herself had been Meg. Fiona had been willing to do almost anything to get her family’s attention, to have some proof they still cared, some proof they still remembered her. Meg had stepped in in those days, and slowly Fiona had learned that blood family wasn’t the only kind. Those had been dark days- and Meg had brought her out of them.

”I suppose Miss Kelly will probably appreciate a welcome face, though,” said Lestrade. Fiona nodded and started walking towards Meg’s shop. ”I’ve known her for years. She just about saved my life- or at the least a few broken bones.” She was walking quickly. For all Lestrade’s reassurances about the harmlessness of the crime, she was worried.[/size][/blockquote]

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Ah, fifteen years… ish.” Lestrade answered quickly when she asked how many years he’d been with the force, not bothering to mention the “ish” meant more than fifteen years, more like twenty but hey, who’s counting anyway? He then proceeded to tell her the protocol for the incredibly dull[/c] scene he relented into letting her come to, since, well, she was giving him a look that was more threatening than seemed like it should have been possible.

“I understand,” Miss Price said when he’d finished. “Meg… Meg is like my family – a mother of aunt I never knew. She’s been there… she was there through the… the harder times. I’ve known her for years. She just about saved my life – or at the least a few broken bones.” Lestrade watched with some amusement as the girl started to walk brusquely out towards the road.

“Hey, hold up a second,” he called to her, trying not to laugh. Her child-like excitement was amusing. “It’s pouring rain out there, don’t you remember? I’ll call cab. And shouldn’t you close up the shop first?” Finishing his tea in a final gulp – god that was good – he the stood himself while he quickly phoned for a cab. When he was done with the menial task, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and took his suit jacket off the back of the chair. It was still dripping wet. He sighed, but put it on anyway, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of wet seeping through his already damp clothes. They had died some under the heater, yes, but it hadn’t been nearly enough time for any of this to be comfortable. Making a face, he shoved his arm through the sleeves, trying not to seem like they were sticking too much.

“Geez,” Lestrade muttered, “If I find out those boys were lying about being ill…” He wondered if they were really just hung over. A few of them had seemed honestly ill this week, but still, he wouldn’t put it past some of the others to steal their excuses. Not that he hadn’t used that excuse before in the past himself, but… Well, when he was the one receiving the excuse, he realized just how much it must have pissed his old senior officers off. Oh, those days. Everything was fun back then. Though, today seemed to be shaping up to be a lot less depressing than it originally had seemed.

[FIONA "FANNY" PRICE]

”Ah, fifteen years… ish,” said Lestrade quickly. She bit her lip to hold back a smile, guessing what the “ish” part meant. Almost more years than I’ve been alive, and probably longer that that, she thought. Fiona couldn’t imagine it- being a detective for so long. Fifteen years had seemed long enough to Fiona- she didn’t think she would be able to bear spending that long out on the streets, sopping wet and in danger, every day a battle, and nothing big achieved. Far from pitying Lestrade for the hard job, Fiona respected him. It was tough work- anyone who could stand it for at least fifteen years was made of stern stuff.

Lestrade seemed to find the situation slightly amusing- Fiona wasn’t sure if she should be offended or not. ”Hey, hold up a second. It’s pouring rain out there, don’t you remember?”

”Oh,” said Fiona, blinking as some of the water hit her in the face. ”That. Yes.”
”I’ll call a cab. And shouldn’t you close up the shop first?”

Fiona pulled the keys to the shop out of her apron pocket. She scribbled a note on a napkin for the next girl. Meg’s shop robbed- gone to go help. Fiona. The next girl, Amy, would understand. Meg came to the shop at least once a week for a cup of something hot and a cookie. There weren’t many people who disliked Meg. Fiona locked the cash register and checked to make sure everything was put away.

Lestrade gulped down the rest of his tea and pulled on his still-wet jacket. Fiona wished she had something else to give him, something drier and warmer. ”Geez,” he said, grumbling as he put on his jacket. ”If I find out those boys were lying about being ill…”

”Why would they lie about it?” she asked, frowning. A cab pulled up outside, and Fiona opened the door. She locked the front doors and dropped the keys through the mail slot- Amy knew where the copy was (taped to the underside of the tarpaulin covering the entry). Fiona clambered into the cab, nervousness still turning her insides to jelly. ”Fourth and Stanton,” she told the cabby.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Oh. That. Yes,” Miss Price stuttered, a little stunned, as if she’ d completely forgotten the reason he’d come here in the first place. The complete innocence of the situation made Lestrade want to laugh, really.

“Why would they lie about it?” She asked, but didn’t really wait for the answer, as the cab pulled up and she quickly hopped in, telling the driver, “Fourth and Stanton.” Lestrade had to laugh this time; she was rather more controlling than he’d originally suspected. And orderly too: she certainly knew how to be orderly.

When they were settled in, Lestrade once again trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of wet suit jacket, Lestrade said, “In answer to your question: They’d lie to get out of working. Everybody does it at one point or another, but,” he shrugged, “It’s still annoying.” He grimaced, then looked out the window. They were passing lots of shops, and cars, and busses and people and bikes and bird and trees and… Everything.

Sometimes just thinking about everything out there made Lestrade feel so overloaded – so dizzy – as if everything was closing in. He tried to ignore the feeling – now was not the time – and turned back to Miss Price. “So are you a student, then?” He asked her curiously. Really, he didn’t know all that much about her, though somehow he knew a lot of serious things already… he supposed he had the sort of face people wanted to pour their secrets to, really.

[FIONA "FANNY" PRICE]

Lestrade climbed into the cab after her, a funny look on his face. Fiona was puzzled by it- until she figured out that he was amused. She wasn’t sure whether to be offended or not- and settled on “not”. After all, he was allowed to be amused by her when he was letting her tag along on police business. He did say he was breaking some rules by letting her come- and besides, she’d only known him for an hour, maybe less. He’s allowed to laugh, she thought. Just this once.

”In answer to your question: they’d lie to get out of working. Everybody does it at one point or another, but it’s still annoying.” He looked out of his window at the wet streets, shrugging and making a face at the idea. ”That’s silly,” Fiona said, frowning with puzzlement. ”Why would you choose a job- then lie to get out doing it? Why not just find a job that you enjoy?” It wasn’t like she was unfamiliar with the concept- there were kids at her school who pretended to be sick so they could stay home. But that was different- you couldn’t get out of that. When I get a job, she thought, a real one- not just being a coffee shop girl- it’s going to be a good one. One that I’ll like. One that will make me excited to get up in the morning and go to work. What kind of man, she wondered, would choose to be a policeman? What kind of drive would Lestrade have to have to do things like this every day for more than fifteen years?

Fiona looked out of her own window. People were running more than walking along the sidewalks, trying to escape the rain. They held newspapers over their heads, bags, umbrellas, jackets. Anything to keep off the wet. Fiona liked to walk along these streets. For the most part they were bright and sunny, overgrown in places but always friendly. She knew most of the shops well, having grown up in the area. She knew some of the faces behind the rain-streaked windows, knew the menus of the little restaurants and the names of the puppies in the pet shop window. But today… today, they all seemed far away, as far as Boston and family. I’ve grown up here, she thought sadly, but I’m not a New Yorker, not really. I don’t feel like one, not while I still have roots in Boston. And I can’t bring myself to cut my ties to Massachusetts. An exiled Bostonian, and half a New Yorker- do I really belong anywhere? It was a question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered.

”So are you a student, then?” asked Lestrade. She nodded. ”I’m a senior this year- but that’s probably going to be it, unless I somehow win the lottery. I’d love to go to NYU- but my parents can’t… well, raising six kids is hard enough without thinking about college tuition for the seventh. And my aunt and uncle… won’t.”

She did resent them for it- the Bertrams were wealthy enough to send three children to Ivy League schools easily- and none of the three getting much in the way of scholarships. But Fiona was a niece, close enough not to be given charity, and not close enough to be provided for. If she wanted to go to college, she was on her own. ”I’ve tried for a bunch of scholarships,” she added, ”but I’m no genius. Besides, the application deadline for this year was a month ago anyway. So even if I had the money…”

She let the sentence trail off. The simple fact was- she didn’t. It didn’t look like she ever would. My only hope at this point is the Book, she thought. The Book was Fiona’s pet project- and her most secret. She loved to write, loved to create stories. She had at least fifty different ones saved on her laptop, but nothing was finished. Fiona wasn’t even serious about most of the ideas- except for one. She’d been working on that one, the Book, for the better part of two years, pruning and tweaking and adding until it was a very different thing than it had been originally. But it was a long way from being finished, and even if it was good enough to make some money, there was no way she would get any notice from editors or publishing houses without an agent- and agents cost money, too. Fiona was trapped, and no amount of talent or hard work could make up for the fact that she just didn’t have the money.

”So what were you doing around here?” she asked Lestrade, looking back at him. ”I mean, we don’t have a police station very close, and it’s not exactly ideal conditions for a walk,” she said, smiling a little. Then she blushed. ”Or is it police business? Oh, geez- I’m probably not supposed to ask, right?”

She swallowed. ”Look. I wanted… I should thank you. For letting me come,” she said awkwardly, blushing even more. ”I know this kind of thing must be ordinary for you, but I don’t usually… that is, most of the time things are pretty tame for me. I get worried when I hear about things like this, even if they aren’t that serious. So… thanks.”

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Why would you choose a job – then lie to get out doing it? Why not just find a job that you enjoy?” Miss Price asked. Lestrade wasn’t really sure how to answer this. The girl had certainly poured far too much of her soul out to him than was normal for strangers in a café, but honestly, didn’t everyone know the answer to that question? Lestrade chose to simply shrug in response, followed by his question about her education.

He watched her as she nodded, and said, “I’m a senior this year – but that’s probably going to be it, unless I somehow win the lottery. I’d love to go to NYU, but my parents can’t… Well, raising six kids is hard enough without thinking about college tuition for the seventh. And my aunt and uncle… won’t. I’ve tried for a bunch of scholarships, but I’m not genius. Besides, the application deadline for this year was a month ago anyway. So even if I had the money…” she trailed off. My, the girl certainly did have a mouth on her, didn’t she?

Lestrade hummed in response to her little speech. He understood the part about tuition and money and fees. Coming from a family of six kids couldn’t be all that different from coming from a family of seven now could it? His parents had not been the poorest group, but, well, as Frank McCourt so cleverly wrote, “Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.” Lestrade had always found the irony fitting, though his situation had never been as severe as the professor’s.

But then, he’d up and left them. They’d threatened him and told him not to leave, and yet he had. It seemed so long ago – god, he couldn’t even remember the streets anymore – that he’d lost his inheritance and severed the ties. He’d spent years of being paper boy and milk boy and the babysitter for his neighbor just so he could go to college and buy a ticket to America, oh the golden country. And the first year here, he’d not even started immediately; what had followed was another year of work, to pay for the rent and the training and perhaps a bit too much alcohol. But he’d made it. He hoped dearly that this young woman could get it too, and that she wouldn’t give up.

“So, what are you doing around here?” Miss Price interrupted his reminiscing, obviously now steering the subject away from herself. “I mean, we don’t have a police station very close, and it’s not exactly ideal conditions for a walk. Or is it police business? Oh geez – I’m probably not supposed to ask, right?” The girl seemed far too caught up in her own deficiencies to notice that Lestrade would have told her if she was crossing the line.

“It’s fine. And no, it wasn’t for police business, I just… Well, I was walking home and got caught in the rain, and that’s really all there is to it,” he said. Miss Price had a point: the nearest police station was a few blocks away. But he’d been so depressed, mood only further dampened by the literal damp outside, and none of the cabs would take him… And so he had walked, against logic of course.

Suddenly Fiona gulped and switched the subject rather unceremoniously by saying, “Look. I wanted… I should thank you. For letting me come.” Her words were awkward and she was blushing again. Lestrade didn’t say anything. “I know this kind of thing must be ordinary for you, but I don’t usually… that is, most of the time things are pretty tame for me. I get worried when I hear about things like this, even if they aren’t that serious. So… thanks.”

“Just because they aren’t interesting to me doesn’t mean they’re not serious,” Lestrade corrected brusquely. He had to admit, he was a little impressed by Miss Price’s obvious pension for making long-winded and quite bold speeches. “And you’re quite welcome.”

“Besides,” he continued, and gave her a small grin, “Good to get out of work sometimes, isn’t it?” He wasn’t completely obvious, but obvious enough, in reference to the question she’d asked a few minutes ago, about people skipping work. It was, in a way, his answer.

The cab screeched to a stop, water audibly splashing the sides of the cab. Lestrade leaned forward to pay the man the right amount, not really caring about the fee, and stepped out silently. Time to work.

[FIONA "FANNY" PRICE]

Lestrade only hummed quietly as she spoke. Fiona flushed again, glad that the dark day and having her face turned to the window hid her embarrassment. Normally she didn’t talk- not to anyone but Edmund. But there was something about the police inspector that made her feel… easier. He took off some of the edge to her loneliness, made her feel less of an outcast. Edmund had once done that- but he was away, at college and having the time of his life. He rarely wrote, and sometimes Fiona worried that he’d forgotten her entirely. Her worry got worse and worse, until finally she’d get a letter from him, a nice long one. Then, her worry would build up for the next month or two until she got another letter. It was a cycle- one Fiona hated, but couldn’t quite get rid of, however hard she tried not to worry.

And then there was Meg. She was older, and even though she’d proved she could handle the hard side of life, Fiona didn’t want to bother her with the loneliness. Meg had seen her through one hard time- Fiona didn’t want her to think there was another in the winds. But what if there is? she thought. What if all of this is just me gearing up for another bout of depression?

She didn’t like the sound of that, not at all. Fiona relied on herself, relied on her ability to stay cheerful- or at least, to keep herself from getting too glum- more than anything else. To lose that again, when she had nothing else she could really use to prop herself up with, that would be the end of her. She pushed the worries away, pushed them back into a dark corner of her mind with all the rest of it. Then she asked Lestrade why he’d been out. ”It’s fine. And no, it wasn’t for police business, I just… Well, I was walking home and got caught in the rain, and that’s really all there is to it.”

Fiona nodded, though she wasn’t sure. Something about the phrase “that’s really all there is to it” made her think that there was something else, something bothering the man. I’ve told him so much about me- but I know so little about him. Only what I’ve got my gut telling me, and I can’t rely just on instinct. She normally would have started worrying at that point- stuck in a cab with an almost total stranger who she’d poured her heart and soul out to by accident, or lack of self-control. But she could always jump out of the cab- traffic was moving slow enough, and the child-safety locks were off. And besides, her instinct told her that if he’d meant her any harm, he would have done it earlier, when they were alone.

”Just because they aren’t interesting to me doesn’t mean they’re not serious. And you’re quite welcome.”

She blinked a little at his tone- so gruff all of a sudden- and wondered if she’d said something wrong. Don’t bungle it even more, Fi, just let it go, she told herself, biting back another apology.

”Besides, good to get out of work sometimes, isn’t it?”

The question came with a grin and she relaxed. She opened her mouth- then closed it again, unsure of what to say to that kind of question. So that’s why they’d play sick. I mean, it makes sense- I guess that’s true.

”Sure,” she said slowly. ”But I think I’d rather get out of work for playing sick than for making sure a friend is okay after a robbery.” She shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

The cab slowed down outside of Meg’s place. Fiona’s heart was speeding back up. She got out of the cab as Lestrade paid the driver, and scooted around the front of the cab to the door. Meg was sitting inside, face pale as she looked up and saw Fiona and the police inspector. She blinked in surprise, then got up and unlocked the door. “Fiona? Fiona, what are you doing here?”
”Officer Lestrade was in the shop when he got the call, Meg- are you all right?” said Fiona, giving the older woman a hug. “I’m fine, dear, just a little ruffled. They took about a hundred dollars,” said Meg to the policeman. “Boot polish on their faces, but I think I can remember what they look like.”
Fiona had to marvel at the older woman’s strength. Even after a robbery, she was still cool and composed- the kind of person Fiona wanted to be.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

_{I mentioned in an earlier post that the boys only stole a few dollars out of the register… I don’t mean to contradict you at any length, but I don’t think it would really be quite three hundred dollars. Is it alright if we settle with one hundred? If you want me to change it to three hundred I can though.}

[/center][/blockquote][/sub]

Lestrade watched, trying not to seem too amused as Miss Price nearly flew out of the car into the warm arms of a middle aged woman, assumedly Meg Kelly, and was enveloped in what looked like a welcome embrace. Putting on his work/copper face, he walked quite a bit more steadily into the shop than Miss Price had, and stood aside, casually surveying the damage as he listened to Miss Price start to talk worriedly to Miss Kelly.

“They took about three hundred dollars,” Lestrade heard her say assuredly, and he was glad that the woman wasn’t one of those old women who completely broke down at the sight of a couple of boys not wearing belts. “Boot polish on their faces, but I think I can remember what they look like.” Lestrade glanced around the shop; there was little evidence of misdoing, aside from the cash register flown wide upon and a few things knocked over. Stupid kids.

“Hello Miss Kelly, I’m detective inspector Gregory Lestrade at your service, nice to meet you,” he turned to face her once Miss Price was done speaking, his voice professional (Miss Price was now looking admirably towards Miss Kelly) and stuck out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you. If I could ask you – Were there any particular, especially distinguishing features that the kids possessed? Anything I should know?”

As Miss Kelly confidently filled in the details of the crime to him, Lestrade took a few notes, though he really didn’t need to. The crime was simple, straightforward. It was likely the boys would be caught for something else juvenile within a few months, and wouldn’t commit any really serious crimes, so he wouldn’t worry about it too much. Of course there would be an investigation, but it’d soon get buried under piles of more important cases on murder and such. Miss Kelly would get compensation for the few losses she and her store had suffered, consolation for the fright, and not much else. Sometimes it disappointed Lestrade that the law system didn’t take so many things seriously, but it was easier to bypass when it was true that the importance of a murder of a little girl was more urgent to investigate than the loss of a hundred dollars in a book store.

“Thank you Miss Kelly,” he said politely, grimacing slightly. He was starting to feel a bit chilled, having been in the rain, in the café, in the rain, in the taxi, in the rain, and in the book store in a short amount of time. Suppressing the urge to shiver, Lestrade politely motioned one hand towards Fiona. “Ah, Miss Price here has been helpful, I think you might be proud to know. She was very worried about you after all.”

[FIONA "FANNY" PRICE]

Meg tapped her forefinger against her lips, thinking. “One of them had a limp. I don’t remember which leg- but it was very pronounced. There were three of them- two of them about my height, a little shorter. One of them was quite a bit taller, maybe six feet or so. The tall one had red hair, the shorter two had brown. Those two might have been brothers- all three of them were wearing black. Jeans, black sweatshirts. No marks or anything, no printing. I’m afraid that’s all I remember.”

Fiona looked up. ”What did they sound like? They must have said something to you, asked for the money.”
Meg nodded. “Yes, they did. I didn’t think of that. The tall one, the redhead- he had a very strong Irish accent. The other two sounded like New Yorkers, maybe from Brooklyn. Does that help at all, Inspector?”

Fiona looked around the shop as Lestrade and Meg talked about the crime. A few books had been knocked off of the shelves, and the cash register was wide open. But other than that, everything was fine. Fiona had spent many happy days there, sometimes helping out, sometimes just content to sit and read, or just sit and write. Lately she’d spent less and less time in the Corner, choosing to get her reading material and inspiration from other places. But she still talked to Meg often- the older woman didn’t often remember to answer her cell phone, and she didn’t have a Facebook, but Fiona dropped in as often as she could.

Lestrade finished taking his notes, and grimaced a little at Meg, though Fiona could tell it wasn’t from anger at her. More like anger at the situation. It’s probably not easy to find criminals like this- petty crime isn’t important enough to fund an investigation, so the kids who did this will probably get away with it.

She could see why it would make Lestrade frustrated. He was frustrated by the junior officers’ playing hooky, and that told her he wanted things done right. Fiona’s respect for the inspector increased again. He thanked Meg and turned to Fiona. ”Ah, Miss Price here has been helpful, I think you might be proud to know. She was very worried about you after all.”

Meg beamed at her. “Thank you, dear. I’m all right, nothing much stolen, no one hurt. But I do appreciate it, Fi.”
Fiona blushed. ”You should be thanking the Inspector, Meg, not me,” she said, ducking her head a little. Meg nodded. “Thank you for coming so quickly- I’m sure coming in the rain can’t have been a great deal of fun.”

Fiona wasn’t sure what else to say to the man. For some reason, she felt like she could trust him- and she didn’t have many people she trusted. But on the other hand, she’d only known him a short while. Now that his business was done, surely he’d want to leave, and in all likelihood, she’d never see him again. ”I should probably get back to the shop, if you’re all right, Meg.”
Meg waved a hand dismissively. “Go on- you shouldn’t leave the shop unattended for too long.”
Fiona turned to Lestrade. ”Thank you,” she said quietly.

She wasn’t just thanking him for letting her come along- it had been a while since anyone had really listened to her like the inspector had. He was trustable, and that didn’t happen often. She held out her hand to shake. ”Stop by the café anytime- I’d be happy to talk anytime,” she offered. ”And good luck with Dolores.”

OOC: I changed it to a hundred dollars- you're right it, did make more sense.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Lestrade smiled as Miss Price blushed at Miss Kelly’s compliments. She seemed pretty modest, after all. “You should be thanking the Inspector, Meg, not me.”

“Thank you for coming so quickly – I’m sure coming in the rain can’t have been a great deal of fun,” Miss Kelly acknowledged, and Lestrade nodded thankfully.

“Of course, ma’am, anytime,” he said calmly. He looked over at Fiona, who seemed to be grasping for words at the moment. He listened as she expressed her need to return to the shop, and the short exchange that followed with Miss Kelly.

Then: “Thank you,” she said, holding out her hand to shake which he took and gave a good squeeze. “Stop by the café anytime – I’d be happy to talk anytime.” Lestrade laughed softly; she did talk rather a lot. He wondered if she spilled her life story to all random people who came into the shop? Probably not. Did that make him special? Likely not. Maybe it was just one of those days. Still, he supposed he would be dropping by again sometime; it was on the way home from work after all, and he had enjoyed this.

“And good luck with Dolores.” Lestrade blinked for a second, a little surprised that she remembered his daughter’s name. Not because he thought she was stupid, but, well, he was a complete stranger, and yet she bothered to remember what Dolores was called. How charming.

“Thanks,” he smiled, and reached into his pocket. “Ah-“ he reached into his pocket to get out the small pad of paper and pen that he’d been using previously to take notes on the case. He quickly wrote his number down, tore the paper off and gave it to her. “Anytime,” he said. “You have some way to get home?” He asked. He’d get a cab again, he assumed she’d do the same, but probably a different once considering their different destinations this time.

“Well, then, it’s been very nice to meet you, Miss Price,” Lestrade said, and then turned to go.

OOC: We can end it there or you can make another post; make sure to mark the title of the thread with [FIN] or something!