"Name?"
"Russell Watson."
"Charlotte Holmes."
"Age?"
"Twenty."
"Nineteen."
"Occupation?"
"Student."
"Detective consultant."
Inside the interrogation room, the officer conducting the questioning raised his head at that, looking through the glass at this remarkably young pair, and frowned.
The light of the kerosene lamp bloomed into a bright patch in the cramped room, leaving both their faces half in glow, half in shadow.
The man leaned back in his chair, calm enough on the surface, though a wide dark stain spread across his clothes and gave off a faint smell of wine.
The woman sat perfectly straight, hands folded and tucked into her pockets. The cuff of her black coat had been torn open, her hair was in disarray, and she seemed entirely unaware of the trouble she was in.
But her eyes - those grey-blue eyes - held his gaze without a flicker of unease.
The officer glanced down again at the preliminary details in his notebook.
Southwark District, 27 Clement Street, Hannigan's estate, which was also the scene of the crime.
One body, male, identified as the fugitive suspect Pilsen.
The report had come from a constable on patrol, who claimed he'd heard gunshots and rushed over, but found the front door locked and had to round up several colleagues to force it open.
The corpse was discovered on the second floor. The suspects were found in the cellar.
When they were found, both still had weapons in their hands, and both were standing over a woman curled up on a sofa, plainly out of her mind.
Ordinarily, with things gone this far, the sensible procedure was to bring them in and put them through a thorough interrogation.
A young man and woman who couldn't stay home like decent people in the middle of the night, sneaking into a murder house instead, and killing a wanted suspect on top of it... it sounded wrong from every angle.
But once he'd heard the names they gave, the officer found himself distinctly uneasy.
Charlotte Holmes.
That Holmes. The one from Baker Street.
Scotland Yard's detective consultant.
Anyone who worked at the Yard had heard the name - whether they'd ever laid eyes on her was another matter entirely.
He still remembered drinking tea in the break room last week and hearing a colleague bring up that name. It had even been in the papers.
Word was she was a young woman who looked no different from any ordinary university student, but who cracked cases better than inspectors with twenty years behind them.
Lestrade hung on her every word, and whenever anything came up, she was the first person he thought of.
"Charlotte Holmes..."
He repeated the name slowly, a probing edge in his voice.
"The one from Baker Street?"
"I don't think you'd want the one from Pall Mall sitting here instead," Charlotte said.
The officer was quiet for a few seconds.
"One moment, please," he said. "I need to verify something."
"Of course. Go right ahead," Russell said with a nod.
The officer set down his pen, stood, and left the room, his back disappearing with something close to haste.
Silence dropped over the room.
"This is my first time at Scotland Yard," Russell said, breaking it, glancing around the narrow, oppressive space.
The walls were a flat greyish white, thick dust had gathered in the corners, and the air carried a mingled smell of rust and mildew.
"Never thought my first visit would be as a suspect," Russell remarked.
"How does it feel?"
"I was hoping for pork cutlet rice as a midnight snack." Russell shrugged. "Instead they won't even give me a cup of tea."
"Count yourself lucky." Charlotte smiled. "At least you didn't walk in wearing handcuffs."
"Fair point." Russell let that pass and rolled his shoulders, working out the ache.
That grappling match with Pilsen had left his muscles complaining.
"And you?" He looked over at her. "You know this place well?"
"The first time I came here, Lestrade hauled me in for contaminating a crime scene and forging credentials."
Charlotte leaned back in her chair, a trace of nostalgia in her voice.
"Back then he swore up and down that one day he'd put me behind bars."
"And?"
"And now he not only has to invite me in with his hat in his hand, he has to pay me a consultant's fee."
The corner of her mouth curved as she said it.
"Remember to ask him for the money later - Pilsen may be dead, but we're still the ones who caught him," she reminded him.
Watching her sit there like that, Russell started laughing too.
But somewhere in the middle of it, the laughter died in both of them.
Pilsen was dead.
The lead they'd finally had in hand had been cut off right in front of them.
"When did that man get inside..." Russell couldn't leave it alone. "Was he hiding there from the start? Then how could he be sure Pilsen would end up in that exact spot?"
"He tailed us in, most likely," Charlotte said. "Slipped in while we were fighting Pilsen down in the cellar, then found a good hiding place on the second floor."
"If we'd subdued Pilsen, we'd have had to bring him out through the front door.
"And all he had to do at that moment was line up the shot like a man at a shooting range and pull the trigger.
"And if we'd killed Pilsen by accident, that would have been even easier for him. He wouldn't have had to show his face at all."
"So we were played." Russell sighed. "How did The Professor end up thinking along exactly the same lines as you?"
"Who knows," Charlotte said, irritated.
Silence settled over the interrogation room again. However long it lasted, it ended when the door swung open once more.
This time it was Lestrade who walked in.
He looked like a man dragged out of bed in an emergency, hair a wreck, expression worse.
"Good God, Charlotte, I finally got a day off." He was complaining before he'd cleared the doorway. "What have you gone and done this time?"
Lestrade dragged over a chair and dropped heavily into it across from them. When he caught sight of Russell beside her, his frown deepened.
"Russell, and here I trusted you. Now you're running wild with her too!"
"I didn't exactly have a choice," Russell muttered.
Lestrade sighed, his gaze moving back and forth between them.
When he took in the broad wine stains on Russell's clothes, the faint traces of blood among them, and the battle-worn state of Charlotte's outfit, his frown cut deeper still.
"You two got into a fight?"
"Your men didn't tell you?"
"The moment I heard Charlotte had been locked up, I came straight here." Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose.
"So. What exactly happened?"
"Short version: we went to catch a wanted criminal," Russell said.
"And then we ran into a small complication," Charlotte added.
____
Gift for Everyone: Once we hit 50 Powerstones, I'll release +1 bonus chapter
________________________________________
If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on (P). with 50 advanced chapters available on (P)
👻 Join the crew by searching Leanzin on (P). You know the spot! 😉