I walked into the Yard headquarters grasping a telegram from Mr Holmes in my left hand, under my hat, my coat and scarf under the other. There were a lot of recent recruits sat down talking about the football, and though it was my job at that time of the year to find them something to do, I was irritated that they hadn't at least pretended to do something constructive.
As I put my things onto the hat stand behind my desk, there must have been something of a look of severity about my features which made them split apart and stand to attention. Satisfied I had made a presence, I began to read to my men the telegram, only to be interrupted.
"Sir, isn't that Holmes chap an amateur? I hear he's bonkers. Who's he to tell us what to do?"
I didn't quite know how to react. Of course there are ways to react to such slander of a fellow officer, but Mr Holmes isn't quite that, though a bit more on occasion, and for that reason I knew it was something the lad had to be reprimanded for.
"Woodward, is it?"
"Yessir."
"Do you quite realise how much that man has helped this force?"
"I think so, Sir." He didn't appear to see what he's done wrong.
"You probably don't actually. You probably don't know how many times he's put us on the right track. You probably don't how many times he's been one step ahead until the end. Why? Because he never takes credit, even when I admit he deserves it- and when I don't admit it sometimes he does, too. Mr Holmes, as he will ALWAYS be to you, is one of us. He wants to scrape the filth from the London's streets, which is exactly what I want. Is it what you want, I wonder, Woodward?"
"It –it is Sir. Honest it is." He was finally looking ashamed of himself.
"So I shouldn't start by scraping the filth from the Force?"
"There isn't any filth in the Force sir."
"There won't ever be if whilst me or that Mr Holmes chap, the amateur, the bonkers man, are alive. You hear?"
"I do, Sir."
"Treat the man with the respect he deserves. Treat him as well as you would me, or at least Gregson."
"I'll endeavour to."
Little did I realise Watson had walked in and was standing behind the officers. He was smiling broadly, but the moment I acknowledged his presence and the men turned around, he thankfully wiped tit from his features.
I guided him out to my little interview room. After a moment of blushing at one another and Watson being permitted to laugh at me, he left.
He said he's been looking for Holmes, and that this was the first place he checked after Baker Street.