Under The Umbrella

What a horrid week! It's been non-stop rain, and of course, this murder case I've been working on has us mainly outdoors. As the Detective Inspector, I don't have to be on the scene.

But I still enjoy the legwork part of my job. Even in my fifties it still excites me to work out the 'who done it' and 'how' part.

Consulting detective Sherlock Holmes is with us every day. His partner John would have loved this, but he's been home with a bad cold.

Since Sherlock can be such an asshole when it comes to people, it's my job to keep him in line., and by now I've lost it a few times with him. My crew is tired, hungry and more importantly very wet.

Each day we're outside scouring for clues, for any information. Three women have been strangled and left out in this alley. And all have happened within the last four days. And even with stakeouts, we cannot figure out how he does it and how he dumps them here. This morning another one was found, and, of course, it's still raining.

The drops are falling on my face even with a hat on, the dribbles down my collar and my trousers are soaked through to my underwear. I wonder what I'm doing here. Even Sally, my assistant has been shouting at me to let up and go home. Let them do the work.

Finally, Sherlock picks up a clue and determines who the murderer is and where we can find this killer.

"So simple. Why didn't I see it sooner?"

The store on the street is a sex shop. The owner has many women coming in all the time. He lures them in for a quick sexual encounter, then kills them. He knows we have this place watched and can readily figure when the police go for coffee or to pee. He then dumps them in the alley taking any identifying items out of their pockets."

Mycroft, Sherlock's older brother, has come with his driver to pick up Sherlock.

Mycroft receives a call from Anthea that she can't get a ride home, so he sends the car to her with the idea that the driver will return to pick him and Sherlock up.

Sherlock doesn't want to wait and cuts loose to take a cab back to Baker Street and John.

I make sure all my co-workers have either squad cars or cabs to get them home.

That has Mycroft and me alone in the rain. There are no awnings to get under, no store to wait in and no cab available.

Mycroft has his umbrella up, and we stand shoulder to shoulder under it.

The closeness of this is bringing out emotions that I've held in for a good many years. Mycroft has charmed and mesmerized me each time we've met. I've never been sure about him.

For many people, his nickname has been Iceman. I don't see him that way.

Yes, for his position in the British government one can assume the posture he takes is one of frostiness. If you look closely, you can see the humor, albeit with intelligence, and his amiability with certain people. Mainly his brother and John Watson.

And sometimes I even see it with me. He exudes a certain warmth towards me that I catch only occasionally. It's like he holds it in tight to himself. Afraid to let it out.

Mycroft gets a call from his driver. He's stuck in traffic, and it will take a bit of time before he picks us up.

And so we stand in the rain, umbrella up, bodies close and very aware of it. I take my arm and link it under the arm not holding the umbrella, and the response is a quickening of his breath. Mine also actually.

A strong gust of wind hits us, and the umbrella turns inside out and breaks. We respond by laughing as we watch the drops fall on our faces.

Without a word said, a kiss happens. And then another. By the time the car pulls up, we're ready to give in to our passion.