Inspector and Fish

CHAPTER ONE

There she was, she was running, laughing, her long silky black hair flowing through the breeze. 

" you can kiss me if you catch me" she giggled. Turning to sprint into the long grass. The light reflecting off the lake only emphasizing her angelic appearance. 

He grinned, he could catch her, he flicked his long fringe back as he started running, she was already out of sight, pushing back the harsh grass he was only meters away , he could see her sunshine smile, he flung out his arms then...

SPLASH!

Robert startled, peeled his head from the cool surface of the train window, more than annoyed about his awakening. He hasn't thought of her for a while and he had to admit that it was nice to see her again even if it wasn't actually her. Shifting in his seat he suddenly became aware of the uncomfortable dampness on his trousers "shit" he muttered before taking a cautious glance down at the no doubt embarrassing situation.  

He was surprised to be confronted with a goldfish bowl, balancing precociously on his lap, the sides dripping with water, fitting neatly with the large water stain on his leg.  Unaffected a small confident goldfish was swimming around the bottom of the bowl, content. 

Robert stared, confused, where did this come from?  He scanned the other passengers in the carriage. 

"Ma'am?" He addressed the elderly woman opposite who was smirking at his situation. 

"Where did this come from?, I mean, who left it here?"  The woman erupted in unnecessarily hysterical laughter. 

"You brought it here" she unattractively snorted. 

Robert blinked as the memories of the crying little girl at the train station came flooding back, her desperate tears to her father not to flush the fish down the station toilet. It was in a moment of pity that he decided to offer to buy the fish from the little girl and take care of it for her. It cost him £2, which he had grumbled about but he supposed it was nice to see the happy child. He had decided to just flush it when she left but after enduring minutes of the child's meaningless attempt for conversation he ended up having to rush for the train and keep the fish, and now endure the embarrassment of looking like someone incapable of locating a toilet. 

To his utter devastation the familiar whistle and the harsh shriek of the breaks indicated the trains need to stop. It was his stop. Robert sighed and he stood up, awkwardly clutching the fish bowl while reaching above for his case. Slinging it down, while shaking his soaking leg.

The letter fell.

He bent over to pick it up ignoring the gossiping comments, suggestions and laughs. Glancing over the typed letter from Scotland Yard again. He left the carriage slamming the wooden door behind him, by the urgency of the letter he could tell that his week would just be getting worse.