Disclaimer: I don't own Lewis. And that's probably for the best, because if I were in charge, I would do a lot of crazy and outrageous things with the show for my own amusement

Acknowledgements: This story is dedicated to my wonderful fandom buddy and fellow James Hathaway/ Laurence Fox fangirl, prosfan. Thank you for always being sweet, funny, and encouraging. I hope you enjoy your story.

Note: This story is set in the near future, probably a few years after Series 5 ended.

What an Inspector Needs

James Hathaway ran a hand over the top of the desk. During his days as a sergeant, it had always been covered with papers, photos and a hodgepodge of other materials relevant to the current case. Now, it looked completely bare and desolate.

'It looks as though I was never here.' James thought sadly. He briefly wondered how long how long it would be before another sergeant sat at the desk—how long it would take before he was replaced. James quickly banished these thoughts.

What was wrong with him?

After Innocent had told him to clean out his desk in order to transfer his possessions to his new office, Hathaway had expected a feeling of excitement, caused by the new possibilities that his promotion had created. Yet, as he stood here now and memories of the past few years replayed in his mind, James was acutely aware that this felt far more like an ending than it did a beginning.

Hathaway picked up his new briefcase, a present from Dr Hobson, and headed for the door just as Lewis walked into the room.

"Oh, hello, James," Lewis said. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. I would've thought you'd be setting yourself up in your new office."

"I … I am… it's just the chief super told me to clean out my desk before I go."

"Ah," Lewis said, nodding his head in comprehension.

James walked over to the older man. There was so much that he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure where to begin. So, he merely held out his hand.

"I should go now. It was… it was a pleasure working with you, sir."

Lewis took the hand offered and gently shook it. "Goodbye, James."

Hathaway turned and left the room, sparing one final glance for the man who had been partner, friend, mentor, and more of a father than James Hathaway Sr. had ever been.

When Hathaway walked into his office, he saw a brightly decorated package on his desk. 'It must be from Lewis,' he thought.

Inspector Peter Simon had recently accepted a newly vacant upper management post at Scotland Yard, and as Simon had no sergeant of his own, Innocent had made the decision to move Hathaway up to Simon's old position. Hathaway had been ecstatic and had expected Inspector Lewis to share his joy. After all, Lewis was the one who had pressured him to try for inspector in the first place and who had helped him study for the exams.

However, in the two weeks that had passed since Hathaway had learned of his promotion, Lewis had not offered one word of congratulations. Upon reflection, it did make a bit of sense. Lewis had never been very eloquent at expressing serious emotion. True, Robbie was always there with a "well done, mate" at the conclusion of a difficult case, but it had taken the inspector five years to officially ask Dr Hobson out on a date, despite the pathologist's obvious interest. No, Lewis had never been good at expressing himself. It was unsurprising that Lewis would choose an indirect method to express his pride.

James walked over to the desk and picked up the package. There was an envelope perched on top of the box that had his name written on it. When he examined the envelope closer, he recognized—not Lewis's incomprehensible scrawl—but Innocent's neat, elegant script. Now, that was unexpected.

While Hobson and Fiona McKendrick had both sent him gifts, James hadn't expected anything from the chief super. He only hoped that Innocent did this sort of thing for all the sergeants who made inspector. Hathaway didn't want people to think that the superintendent was openly favouring him. He was, however, genuinely touched by Innocent's gesture, so James opened the envelope and withdrew the bit of fine parchment inside.

Dear James,

Congratulations once again on achieving the rank of inspector. You've worked very hard these past few years, and it is with both pride and sincerity, that I wish you the joy of your new position.

I expect that right now, you are wondering why I left you with this package. You know, of course, that I want the best possible detectives working under me and that I am constantly trying to usher in a new age of police style and competence. Therefore, I have made an effort to pass on a bit of valuable information that I was once given.

I was told that every truly great inspector needs five things. Fortunately for you, you already possess two of the five.

I can't grant you courage, because you're already braver than half of the people on the force. Likewise, I can't grant you intelligence, because you already possess the high levels of cognition that an inspector requires. And you certainly waste no opportunity in showing off this considerable cleverness!

I am, however, able to provide you with two more of the five essentials. The items enclosed inside this package are important tools that detectives as diverse as Poirot and Clouseau have found useful.

Regrettably, I am unable to provide you with the fifth thing: the good sense that you so often lack. I am hopeful, however, that the other four possessions will help you to find that sense.

Once again, congratulations. You have the makings of a brilliant inspector, and I know that you'll make me proud.

Respectfully Yours,

Jean Innocent

After he finished reading, James paused for a moment to think over what he had just read. He was willing to overlook the chief superintendent's jab about his lack of sense for the rest of the letter made him feel wonderful. Innocent wasn't an idle flatterer; the compliments that she doled out were few and far-between. On the rare occasion that she did issue such an accolade, one knew immediately that she meant it wholeheartedly. The fact that Innocent thought that he was brave and intelligent made Hathaway believe what he'd been half-doubting—that he was capable of excelling in his new position.

James then turned his attention to the package. He carefully unwrapped it and removed the lid from the box inside. Amidst a sea of tissue paper, two items sat at the bottom of the box. James grabbed the smaller of the two items. It was a magnifying glass with a smooth handle made of the finest pine. James turned the glass over in his hand and noticed something unusual about the bottom of the handle. A closer inspection revealed the words "J. Hathaway" carved in neat lettering and embossed with gold paint.

Hathaway carefully set the magnifying glass down on his new desk and reached for the second item in the box. At first glance, it looked as though it was only a mere block of wood. However, as Hathaway turned it around to examine it closer, he realized that it was a nameplate, not unlike the kind that ambitious young barristers keep on their desks in the hope of impressing new clients. Like the handle of the magnifying glass, the nameplate was made of the smoothest pine and had carved letters inlaid with gold paint. It read "Inspector James Hathaway." James set it down on the front of his desk and studied its effect. The name–plate made the desk look very impressive indeed.

James picked up Innocent's letter once again and found himself rereading the last line. 'I know that you'll make me proud.' Innocent hadn't been the only person to express that opinion. Just the other day, Dr Hobson had made a similar comment.

"You've done brilliantly, James. I'm very proud of what you've accomplished," Laura had said.

Ironically, though, the person that James most respected and admired had not indicated any such pride. Hathaway supposed that he should be satisfied with the praise of Innocent and Hobson, but he wasn't. After working with the man for so many years, James felt that Lewis owed him something, some word or gesture to indicate that the entire experience hadn't been a waste of time.

"James?" A voice directly behind Hathaway brought his attention back to the present. James turned to see the chief superintendent leaning in the frame of the open door.

"Come in, ma'am."

Innocent entered the room and moved over to join Hathaway at his desk. "I just wanted to ensure that you'd received my present."

"I have. Thank you, ma'am. I really appreciate the gesture."

"I'm glad, and you're very welcome," said Jean, smiling amicably.

"However, I must admit that there was a part of the letter that I found a bit confusing."

The chief super gave him a pointed stare and folded her arms in front of her chest. "James, not even you can deny that you have behaved quite…imprudently at times!"

"Oh, I didn't mean that. I'd be the first to admit that I sometimes throw caution to the winds. Actually, I was wondering what the significance of the nameplate was. I'm sorry, ma'am, but I fail to see how this," he said, gesturing at the name plate, "is going to help me succeed as an inspector."

She smiled wryly at him. "By building up your already-gargantuan ego, of course."

"What?"

"Answer me honestly, James. When you placed the name-plate on your desk, did you think that it made your desk look impressive and professional?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"And, did that in turn, make you feel somewhat impressive and professional?"

"Yes," James said again

"Well, there you go. The nameplate itself has no particular significance, but it calls to mind thoughts of success and purpose. That's what I was getting at. It's confidence and conviction that set the truly stellar inspectors from the rest."

Hathaway's eyes twinkled merrily at the chief superintendent. "Conviction, ma'am?"

Innocent looked at him blankly for a moment before she realized what Hathaway was smirking about. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, James," she sighed, "conviction in both senses of the word: conviction in ideals and conviction of criminals. "

James continued grinning, clearly still revelling in his own wit. " And the magnifying glass?"

" A symbol of curiosity, though magnifying glasses in themselves can prove to be highly useful tools." She studied the young inspector carefully for a moment before speaking again. "How do you feel about all this, James? Are you excited or nervous or…"

"A bit of both," Hathaway said honestly.

Innocent chuckled. "I don't blame you. It's an exciting—albeit somewhat frightening-time in an officer's life." Seeing that James again looked somewhat anxious, she gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, James. You'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure."

"Be sure. You'll do brilliantly. …You know that I'll always be there for you, as will Laura and Robbie, naturally."

"Will he?" Hathaway said disbelievingly.

"Of course he will. Why wouldn't he?"

James sighed. "I… I dunno. It's just… lately there's been this… awkwardness between us. He's barely said a word to me these past few weeks when normally I can't get him to shut up."

Innocent looked thoughtful. "I'm sure he's just having mixed emotions about your promotion. There's… there's a bond that forms between sergeant and inspector, and it's a very powerful bond, one that rarely severs even when the two of you part ways. Although, the parting is admittedly difficult for both. I remember that I cried for a week after I had to leave my inspector, but we stayed close friends; we still meet up for dinner every few months."

"What about your sergeant?"

He knew instantly that he'd touched a nerve, for a sad little smile flashed across her face. " My sergeant never forgave me for leaving her behind when I came to Oxford. I tried reasoning with her, assuring that I'd keep in touch and would be there for her if she really needed me, but she…she just didn't want to listen. After the move, she refused to take my calls and never answered my e-mails. Eventually, I…I stopped trying."

This did nothing to reassure Hathaway. He wondered whether he himself would inevitably face this sort of miserable estrangement. As though she had sensed his fears, Innocent spoke again. "James, this won't be the case between yourself and Inspector Lewis; I'm sure of it." She placed a perfectly manicured hand on his arm. " You were always there for him through good times and bad, just as he was always there for you. Do you really think he'd forget all that simply because you're no longer working in the same office?"

The honest answer was " no," but he still wasn't as confident of it as he'd like to be. He remained silent, and Innocent pressed on. " Do you really think so little of me that you think I'd consciously try to make the two of you so miserable?"

He was forced to admit that there were times when he had felt that the chief super, with her scathing procedural lectures and her constant refrain of " ethical police behaviour," was consciously trying to make him miserable. But it seemed wrong to address this now, when Innocent was being so gentle and sympathetic and kind.

" Trust me, James. Lewis's door will always be open to you if you need to talk. And believe it or not, he is extremely proud of you; he just hasn't had the opportunity to show it yet."

"You really think so?" he asked incredulously.

"I know so." She finally took her hand off James's arm but still managed to manifest an ambience of calm and reassurance.

"How do you know?"

For a moment, Innocent appeared somewhat lost for words. Finally she replied, "Feminine intuition."

Hathaway snorted derisively. Innocent sighed. "Intuition is a powerful thing, James. Though we cannot always rely solely on our instincts, they can prove a help to us on many an occasion."

"It's just… feminine intuition?"

"Laugh if you wish, but I can assure you that there will come a time when you'll regret having mocked the very powerful force of feminine intuition."

"I'll believe that when it happens," he said.

After shaking her head in disapproval for a moment, Innocent glanced down at her watch. "I'm sorry, James, but it looks as though I'm going to have to bid you a premature farewell. I have to leave work early as I have someplace I have to be later tonight."

"Let me guess. Off to another elegant soirée to toast the health of one of Oxford's finest?"

"You might say that," Innocent said, smiling enigmatically. Then, she turned, sauntered over to the door, and exited the office, leaving James completely alone with his thoughts.

Hathaway exhausted the next hour adjusting to the new space. He put away all of his possessions and then spent the rest of time merely looking around him at the new office.

The room did not look very different from the office he'd shared with Lewis, but looks could be deceiving. The room had a similar layout as the other office: the same blue walls and the same glass windows covered with the same grey blinds. The same fluorescent lighting fixtures were also there, but somehow, this new room seemed darker than the other one.

James looked over at the second desk in the room. It was impossible to believe that someday a new sergeant would sit there, waiting for Hathaway to instruct him in the finer points of investigation. James pitied the imaginary stranger. Hathaway knew that he'd never be able to be a mentor to his own sergeant the way that Lewis had been to him. He simply didn't have the patience or the compassion of the older man.

James heard a knock on the door and looked up from the empty desk. He moved over to the door and opened it. When he saw who his visitor was, James smiled and said, "Come in, Dr Hobson."

Laura Hobson walked into the office. James was surprised to see how dressed-up the pathologist was. Hobson was wearing a lacy green top, black dress pants, an emerald pendant, and green high heels. From the look of things, Laura had also curled her hair as her face was framed with becoming little ringlets.

'She must be going out with Lewis later,' James thought to himself. 'Why else would she be so dressed up for an ordinary day at the office?"

"Hello, James," Hobson said affably. "Are you settling in all right?"

"I think so."

'I hope so,' he added silently.

"That's good."

"So… is this just a pleasure visit or do you have something for me?"

Laura smiled coquettishly. "With you, James, every visit is a pleasure."

James smiled back. "The same is true of you, Doctor."

"Actually, I do have something for you."

James's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected to receive a case on his first day of his new position. He felt a curious mixture of anticipation and anxiety rise in him.

"So, what are we looking at today, doctor?"

"You'll just have to wait and see. I just spoke to Innocent on the phone, and she instructed me not to tell you a thing about the case until we arrive at the scene."

That was odd coming from Innocent. The chief super was irrationally obsessed with making sure that her officers showed proper discretion in their investigation. So, why would she allow a brand- new inspector to wander off to a crime scene without first relaying the particulars of the case to him?

Seeing Hathaway's bemused expression, Hobson decided to clarify. "I believe she thought that it would be more exciting this way for you, you know… a surprise."

"Oh, sure," Hathaway said sardonically, "running off blindly into a potentially dangerous case. That sound like loads of fun"

"Remember that this is Jean that we're talking about. I'm sure that her sense of fun is much different from yours or mine."

"Yeah, we prefer beer in a tankard, and she prefers champagne in a slipper. I expect that she also finds it quite amusing that she'll be off carousing with the rich and famous while we're working our tails off."

Laura smirked slightly to herself. Then she spoke. "Anyway, the chief superintendent's given me instructions to accompany you to the cele-" She suddenly broke off and looked somewhat embarrassed as if she'd said something that she shouldn't have. Then, she took a deep breath and continued. "… Crime scene. Sergeant Kershaw will be driving us; he already has the directions."

"Why is Kershaw driving? It's my case, and I'm perfectly capable of driving myself."

"Innocent thinks you drive a bit … recklessly, and she doesn't want you to wind up killing yourself on your first day as inspector."

"I understand that, but why'd she have to pick Adrian? Kershaw's such a slow driver. By the time we arrive, the body will have started decomposing."

"You're exaggerating, James. Adrian may be a bit …cautious, but it's all for the best. He'll make sure that we get there safely."

James sighed. He very much suspected that—at her fine party—Jean Innocent was currently having a laugh at his expense. She must have known that James would be agitated about the case, and so, assigned Kershaw to drive in order to keep Hathaway in the dark for as long as possible.

"Well, shall we go now, then?" Hathaway asked Hobson.

"Yes, we shall," the pathologist responded, and she led James out of the office.

Detective Sergeant Adrian Kershaw was many things: a very nice man, a brilliant detective, a loyal friend and a dedicated husband and father. He was not, however, a very competent driver. During the past half-hour, he had managed to make three wrong turns and to maintain a constant speed that was dramatically below the posted limit.

However, Hathaway felt as though he was the only one annoyed by Kershaw's driving. Hobson, who sat in the passenger seat, inquired very pleasantly about Kershaw's wife and the couple's infant son.

"Yes, Fred is a delight. Susan absolutely adores him, and—as charming as you lot are—the high point of my day is coming home to see my little boy. He started crawling the other day—actually crawling, Doctor! It was so exciting."

"I'll bet it was."

James rolled his eyes. Hobson and Kershaw would have plenty of time to catch up after they'd taken him to his crime scene.

"Adrian?" Hathaway said.

"Oh, sorry, James. I just realized that I forgot to congratulate you on your promotion. Well, done mate. You deserve this."

"Thanks. Hey, listen—are we almost there?"

"Haven't the foggiest."

Hathaway sighed in frustration and leaned back in his seat. "Wake me up when we get there."

"You don't have time to take a nap, James," Laura said from the front seat.

"Why is that?"

"Because that's it up ahead," the pathologist replied as she pointed to a distant building.

James sat up quickly. His eyes followed the pathologist's finger and came to rest on a large and grand stone manor house with a winding gravel driveway. Kershaw proceeded to pull into the driveway and park the car. He then exited, closely followed by Hobson and Hathaway.

James took a closer look around the driveway and noticed that while several cars were parked in the driveway, the SOCO trucks were nowhere to be found. This seemed more than a little odd to Hathaway, but he reasoned that he and his companions were merely the first people on the scene.

" Come on, James. Let's go inside," Hobson said.

He glanced back at her. " Aren't you going to put on your jumpsuit and gloves first?"

" There'll be plenty of time when we get inside. Now, come on!"

" Yes, come on, James," Kershaw parroted. " I've been waiting for this all day."

The new inspector eyed his friends suspiciously. There was something very off about all of this. How could Kershaw have been waiting for this all day when Hobson had only received the call less than an hour ago? And why would Hobson wait to put on her pathologist gear?

Come to think of it, why had Hobson come with him in the first place? Wouldn't it have made far more sense for her to travel with the rest of the SOCO team? And most of all, there was still the lingering question of why Innocent had wanted to keep him in the dark about all this.

Hoping that these questions would soon be answered, Hathaway walked up to the door and rapped the elaborate bronze knocker. After a moment, the door opened, and Hathaway saw a familiar face."What are you doing here?"

DI Fiona McKendrick of the Metropolitan Police gave her widest, most genuine smile. "I'm here for the same reason you are, James."

" I…er…right. It's wonderful to see you. Well then, would you…would you mind showing us where the body is?"

Fiona let out a light, musical laugh. " The body, James?"

" Yes, of course. The…the murder victim," he replied and was surprised when she laughed again. " I…er…isn't that why you're here?"

Fiona grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the house. " Why don't you come and see for yourself?" She led him and his two companions down a long hallway and into an elaborate ballroom.

The first thing that caught his eye was the enormous crowd of people, who upon seeing him arrive, hurried over to him and began lining up to shake his hand and offer words of congratulations. He recognized nearly every face: former classmates, family, colleagues, members of his band, friends.

Eventually, the crowd dispersed and went to sit at the various tables scattered around the room as caterers walked around the room, fully-stocked plates of hors d'oeuvres balanced on their arms. Hathaway glanced around and saw gold and silver balloon centrepieces at every table. He felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to see Innocent, dressed in a teal cocktail dress and holding a glass of champagne in her free hand.

" Ma'am, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be off saluting one of Oxford's golden boys."

She winked and slightly raised the glass of champagne in her hands, as though toasting him. " What do you think I'm doing?"

" Where are we?"

" My brother-in-law's. He's out of the country right now on business, and gave Mr Innocent and me permission to use this place whenever and however we see fit while he's away, provided that he doesn't return and find the place in shambles."

" That was good of him," Hathaway said, choosing not to add that in his personal experience, police officers who had spent too much time in their cups had the unfortunate tendency to turn places into shambles. " Ma'am…er…I have another question. It's just this is wonderful…but isn't it all a bit much? You've already given me a lovely gift, and well…people might get the wrong idea about all this. Besides, I don't really deserve all this."

" Not at all up to your usual standard, James. Don't make me regret promoting you! I'm afraid you're wrong on both counts. One: you do deserve this, more than you know. And two: I'm not the one you should be thanking."

" Then, you didn't arrange all this?"

Innocent shook her head. " All I did was provide the venue and help with the set-up."

" Then…who?"

" Isn't it obvious?"

He glanced past her and saw Inspector Lewis, a roll of scotch tape in his hand, attempting to reattach a banner, which seemed to have fallen from a nearby wall. A closer examination of the banner in question revealed the words" Congratulations, James," written in large gold lettering.

" Robbie?"

Innocent smiled. "I actually told Lewis that I was planning to offer you the job before I asked you directly. I wanted to ensure that it was all right with him. Fortunately, he seemed to be very agreeable to the idea and even began making rudimentary party preparations on the spot. I advised him to wait for your decision. Once you had made up your mind, he got straight to work planning your party, even going so far as to contact your mother and band director to help with the guest list. Between work and party preparations, he had so much on his mind that I can see how you might have thought he was neglecting you."

" Why didn't anyone tell me?"

" Robbie insisted that we keep it a surprise. He was even the one who came up with the idea of luring you to the party with a fake case. I think he thought that if you knew, you'd find some excuse not to come, and it was very important to him that you did."

" I'm so glad I did. This is just…wow! Now if you'll excuse me, I want to go thank him."

" What took you so long?" Innocent replied, shaking her head at him as he walked over to Lewis who was still struggling to readjust the banner.

" Do you want help with that?" Hathaway asked as he finally reached the inspector.

Hathaway held the banner down as Lewis placed tape in the necessary places.

" Thanks, Jim."

" You're welcome, sir."

Lewis looked uncomfortable. " Er…James, you don't have to call me 'sir' anymore. You're an inspector now; we're on equal footing."

" Afraid not. We can never be on equal footing as my feet are still two shoes sizes larger than yours."

Robbie laughed. " Glad to see you haven't lost your cheekiness. You've been so quiet and solemn lately; I'd started to think that your promotion was going to sober you up!"

" I guess I was just so unsure of whether or not I was ready for this, and of how on earth I was going to cope without you."

" Who says you have to? I mean…I know that it won't be the same from now on, but I want you to know that I'll still be there for you. I'll be there every time you need some advice for a case or even just a pint on a rough day."

" You don't know how much that means, sir."

The older man's eyes twinkled. " I thought I told you not to call me 'sir.'"

" Thank you for everything, Robbie."

" You're very welcome, but I feel like I should be the one thanking you. You've saved my life, my arse, and my sanity more times than I can ever admit."

" As you've saved mine."

" Come on, let's get some appetizers. I'm bloody starving!"

Hathaway gave this plan his immediate and fervent endorsement.

It wasn't until a few hours later, after having consumed an enormous, delicious dinner, that Hathaway thought again about the letter he'd received from Innocent that afternoon. He now realized that the chief superintendent had been wrong when she had claimed that there were five things that every good inspector needed. In fact, there were six, and somehow Innocent had managed to leave the most important one off of her list.

He moved his eyes around the room, looking first at Innocent herself who was deep in conversation with Fiona McKendrick, and then at Hobson whose head was resting dreamily on Lewis's shoulder as they danced. Lastly, he looked at Robbie who caught his eye and grinned broadly at him.

The final thing that all truly great inspectors needed was friendship. Fortunately, DI James Hathaway had this in abundance!

THE END