“Cross-jurisdictionals. Have to love ‘em,” Greg muttered as he and Sally collected their bags at JFK International Airport.
Sally nodded her head in agreement. Not that she necessarily minded getting the chance to leave London, but there was usually a hassle and headache involved with working with another set of cops on a case. A territorial pissing match, in most cases. Especially when they realized they had to deal with a female Detective Sergeant. That usually went over quite well, she thought bitterly to herself. But she’d worked hard for her position and she wasn’t about to let an old boys club stand in her way of doing a good job and closing a case.
And what a case this was. Human trafficking was involved, and so not only were they being pulled in to deal with the NYPD because of the dead bodies that had been shipped from New York to London, but INTERPOL was involved as well, which was going to make it a headache and a half. But she was going to do her part, and do it well, and that was that. She was more than competent at what she did, even when Holmes had butted in, and she was going to prove it now.
Once they got to the exit they saw a young black man holding a sign that said “Lestrade & Donovan” and moved over to him. He gave them a wide and genuine smile. “You don’t look anything like what Holmes described,” he said.
“Other Lestrade,” Greg said with a wry smile. “There were two of us.”
“You have a Holmes, too?” Sally asked, her eyes wide.
“You have a Holmes?” the man asked, surprised.
“Yes, Sherlock,” Sally said.
“Same here,” the man said. “He have a Watson?”
“John,” Greg said.
“Now see, there’s a difference,” the man said. “We have a Joan.” He lowered the sign and held out his hand. “And he has Gregson and me. I’m Detective Marcus Bell.”
Greg shook his hand, and then Sally did as well. “Pleasure to meet you, Detective,” Greg said.
“Call me Marcus,” he said. “Case like this, better to be on a first-name basis.” He gestured to the car he was standing in front of. “Let me help you guys with your bags and we can drop them off at your hotel before we head to the station. The INTERPOL liaison is being an ass and wants me to bring you there as soon as you guys arrive. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, though.”
Sally gave him a relieved grin. She had the feeling there wouldn’t be as much of a territorial pissing contest here, at least between the NYPD and them. INTERPOL might be another matter, but she had the feeling they had allies with Detective Bell and Detective Gregson. Hopefully, they would have the same with the Holmes and Watson here.
It was strange to think that there could be another Sherlock Holmes in the world. She was used to her Holmes, the arrogant arse who had been less of one recently, before he’d gone off to deal with this newest matter that had taken his attention. She was used to her Watson, whom she had seen less of since he had become a husband and father. Truth be told, she was used to seeing more of Molly these days, more of Wiggins. Not that they were bad substitutes, but it wasn’t the same as Holmes and Watson. She wondered if it would be a shock to see a new Holmes and Watson duo, especially if Watson was a woman.
Almost as if by reflex, she glanced at the small numbers on the inside of her wrist, the countdown there. Everyone had them; everyone had a soul mate, for the most part. There were some who did not, like her Holmes; his wrists were completely bare. John’s countdown had stopped when he had met the woman who would be his wife; everyone had been shocked when Molly had agreed to marry Tom because hers had not stopped when she met him. It was all such a complicated mess, this business with the numbers. Sally was so used to being disappointed after each and every date that she just stopped looking altogether.
But for some reason, her countdown was nearing its end.
At some point tonight, she’d meet her soul mate.
She wondered who it might be. Her own sexuality was rather fluid, though she wasn’t too open about it. She preferred men, but women appealed to her as well. She rather hoped it wasn’t a suspect. Knowing her luck, that would be the case. Her luck with romance had been shite over the last few years, long before her affair with Anderson. That had just been the biggest mistake in a long line of mistakes. She’d decided to take a break from relationships for a while after that, and it had honestly been the best choice. She’d gotten to figure out what she wanted, figure out who she was as a person, and if she never found her soul mate, well, she’d survive.
But it looked as though it was finally going happen.
She just wasn’t sure if it was going to be a good thing or not.