Lestrade Through the Looking Glass

Chapter One: Through the Looking Glass

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century.

Inspector Beth Lestrade opened the large package that the doorman had said was delivered to her. It was indeed addressed to her, but there was no return address.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she remarked. "An antique mirror! Looks like it's from the Victorian era."

She wondered if Holmes had sent it to her. Today was her birthday, after all. She was going to meet Holmes, Watson and the Irregulars later this evening for a small dinner party in her honor at her favorite restaurant.

"There's no card enclosed," she said to herself. "Hmm. I'll bet this would look nice in my bedroom right over the dresser."

Within minutes she had it up on the wall. She stood back to admire it.

"Lovely," she said. Then she stared at her reflection.

That's very odd, thought Lestrade. Her reflection was staring back at her, but the expression on the face was a smirk.

I'm not smirking, thought Lestrade. Why is my reflection doing that?

What happened next came as a complete surprise to Lestrade. Her reflection reached out, grabbed Lestrade by her hands and firmly pulled her into the mirror!

"Aaagghhh!" cried Lestrade.

Her reflection threw Lestrade roughly onto the floor.

Lestrade looked up at her mirror image that stood staring back at her.

"What just happened?" asked Lestrade. "I demand an answer!"

But the mirror image of Lestrade simply laughed, waved and jumped into the mirror. Lestrade watched in disbelief as her mirror image did a graceful tuck-and-roll and landed safely in Lestrade's bedroom.

"Come back here!" shouted Lestrade into the mirror as she watched the perpetrator walk away and out of the bedroom and closing the door behind her.

"There's no need to shout, my dear," said a voice. "Now what's so urgent that it would cause you to raise your voice like that?"

Lestrade whirled around. Her mouth dropped open upon seeing who had just now emerged apparently from the bathroom: Sherlock Holmes wearing nothing but a towel from the waist down. He looked like he had just come out of the shower and had blotted himself dry. His hair was still a bit damp. Lestrade could smell the faint fragrance of her favorite shampoo that he must have used.

"Beth? Why are you staring like that? You look like you've just seen a ghost." Holmes gave her a puzzled look.

I'm dreaming, thought Lestrade. It's impossible what just happened.

She closed her eyes and pinched herself.

Ouch, that hurt, she thought.

But when she opened her eyes Holmes was still standing there wrapped in a towel from the waist down.

"And what is that you're wearing?" asked Holmes. "Wait, don't tell me. You've decided that your birthday dinner is to be a costume party. And you picked an Inspector's outfit. Well, that doesn't give me or the other guests much time to get costumes."

Lestrade felt the need to sit down. She moved toward the bed, as it was near.

"No, wait, I've got it!" said Holmes snapping his fingers. "You did tell me a few nights ago that you thought we should spice up our sex life. This is it, right? You're the police inspector and I'm the criminal you've caught. Ah, and I see you have the handcuffs to use in this game. This should be fun. Shall we have a go at it? There are still a few hours before the dinner party."

Lestrade did not know what to say. She looked around the room.

It looks like my bedroom, thought Lestrade, but Holmes is here. I've never had him in my bedroom before!

Holmes removed the towel and tossed it aside where it landed on a corner of the room. Lestrade quickly averted her eyes so as not to view Holmes' private area.

"You creative little wench, you!" he said as he reached for her across the bed. She nervously moved away.

Oh, no! How am I going to make this Holmes understand I'm not who he thinks I am? And just who does he think I am? If I'm not dreaming, then this is some world that mirrors my own! What kind of person is the Beth Lestrade from this world?