New Sheriff in Town: Always Sherlock

“You do know what a weekend is?” Myrtle said through her screen door.
The android detective tossed her a comical confused look. “Does not compute,” Hacthet said. Then he started do the Funky Robot dance on Myrtle’s front porch. Myrtle opened the door and pulled him through.
“I have neighbors.”
“You wouldn’t think so from that outfit,” Hatchet said.
Myrtle re-tied her bathrobe over her pajamas. He turned her and gave a gentle push towards her bedroom.
“Get dressed hussy. I’ll wake the boy and we’ll make breakfast. Hurry, Chief, the game’s a foot.”
Myrtle rushed into a pair of jeans, boots, and flannels. Pulling her long dark hair into a ponytail, Myrtle walked back to the kitchen. Hatchet was standing behind a sleep tousled Django teaching him how to beat eggs. Suddenly Myrtle was thrown into the past when my boys would get up early to make her special surprisingly messy breakfasts. Hatchet caught her eye. They stared at each other an invisible rope tied them to one another. Then Hatchet quickly looked away.
“Mom! How do you want your omelette rare or well done?”
Myrtle smiled for her son. The three of them had started “counseling” to help Django adjust to re-connecting with Hatchet after the years they had spent apart. Myrtle always put air quotes around the word counseling in her mind because even though she believed therapy was good for other people she didn’t trust it. She never let her guard down. She was never one for talking about feelings. And she never forgave anyone who hurt her once. That’s one of the reasons she had fallen for Hatchet in the first place, part of her believed he could never lie or leave. Androids were supposed to be perfect.
“Dad said he needed you for a big case? Does that make you Watson? Will there be a big laser fight? Will you be on the news?” Myrtle put Django in a loving headlock. Django chattered on full speed while Hatchet busied himself cooking the Denver omelettes. They ate their breakfast in the car with Django still talking the entire way. When they stopped to drop him off at Rita’s house, Django even allowed his mom to kiss him goodbye.
“Be good, I’ll pick you up soon. And remember I’m always Sherlock,” Myrtle said.
Back in the car, Hatchet told the SatNav to take them to the Vi-Jon Flower Market.
“You know he thinks we are getting back together,” Myrtle said.
Hatchet nodded his heavy gray head and stared out of the passenger window. They drove in silence to the market.
“What’s the score?”
“My CI told me the Market is a good place to pick up information on the Saturnine murders,” Hatchet said.
“What kind of info? We know FlorCorp ha an iron grip on all of the distributors in their region and now they are moving in on the growers. Everybody knows and no one talks.”
They parked and began walking with the Saturday morning crowd. Hatchet touched her arm guiding Myrtle towards one of the flower stalls. They looked at lilies and roses and a bouquet of sunflowers that cost more more than her first car. Hatchet chose a small bouquet of lavender. Myrtle accepted it and they held hands as they strolled.
“I just don’t want to be the bad guy here. Jang has had it rough and—“
“Trust me you can never be the bad guy. He pushes against you because you’re his rock. He loves you, he always loves you. Thank you for letting me try to be a good father again.” Hatchet spoke softly pressing his cool cheek against her ear. She wanted to lean into him gather comfort like she used to before everything went wrong.
“You two should get a room.”
They approached the vendor, a well muscled android clearly former military grade, surrounded by delicate orchids and bizarre succulents. The seller pointed out many large glorious specimens. Myrtle’s picked out the tiniest one. It had powdery pale celadon leaves on a stubby stalk so weird it was adorable. Myrtle glared at Hatchet to pay. He grimaced and paid. They walked the entire market pretending to be just another pair of lovebirds enjoying the morning.
Back in the car, she sighed with frustration.
“How can we find out who killed ChiChi and Judy if no one will come forward.” The car backed out slowly and joined the traffic heading to the ‘burbs.
Hatchet pulled the plant out of its pot.
“Hey don’t break it!”
A silver milli-disc fell into his open palm. “Watson let’s head to the station and examine this first.”

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