It was a miserably cold day. Detective Inspector Lestrade stomped his feet on the steps of the small flat, waiting patiently as the quick steps of Mrs. Hudson approached. On the other hand, his companion, a fellow Inspector, looked slightly impatient.

I smiled as my esteemed former landlady appeared in the doorway, a shawl thrown about her shoulders. "Oh, Doctor Watson! You're back! Thank goodness!"

"Mrs. Hudson- sorry to bother you, but Mister Holmes did mention he wanted to see Lestrade and Gregson for an upcoming case."

"Yes, yes, do come in, all of you! I hope your wife is well Doctor?"

"Quite well." I smiled at the reminder of my beautiful wife, seemingly at last recovering from an illness that held her bound for the past few weeks. "I trust Holmes hasn't set fire to the sitting room?"

"Twice this week. I do hope you'll be able to bring Mister Holmes out of his foul mood."

Sympathy for the poor woman swelled in my chest; "I'll do my best Mrs. Hudson."

I turned to the two Inspectors, noting with some concern that Lestrade was moving slightly slower then normal, his inward twist to his foot a slight more pronounced. Gregson, a step behind, snapped, "Come on Lestrade, you're not growing slower from old age are you?"

Lestrade fired back just as quickly, "You're the one older then me Gregson, so if anyone should be getting slow it should be you!"

"Ah yes, but I take proper care of myself, unlike you." Gregson sniped back, "I think the Doctor would agree with me if I say that out of the two of us I'm much more fit."

"Ha! Says the man who was laid up by a common cold just a fortnight ago!" Lestrade crossed the threshold, as I moved ahead of the two Inspectors, my uneasiness about Lestrade's foot fading to the back of my mind in preparation of seeing Holmes again.

"I am not talking about that Lestrade, I'm talking about Holme's visiting. A dosage of Holmes should always be carefully controlled with a helping of Watson, and taken only when necessary."

I admit to being a bit surprised by this particular line of jesting, as I reached the top of the steps. As I reached the top of the stairs, a dark scowl from Holmes indicated that he had heard the jesting; but I had the rare privilege to see the scowl fade as Lestrade rejoined, "Nonsense. A Holmes should be sprinkled on top the more unusual foods to make them palatable. Uncommon ingredient but useful."

'Useful' has always been Lestrade's biggest words off praise, and one not often joined with Holmes name.

They reached the top of the stairs as Holmes vanished into the sitting room- no doubt to pretend he had not heard such a statement. By the time we reached the cozy room, the heat of the fire warming us up, Holmes was completely in control of his face.

Steely gray eyes flickered up to the two detectives. "I see you have been out by the river! It wouldn't have anything to do with the Merington case now would it?"

Lestrade nodded as he began to unwind his scarf. Beside him, Gregson mirrored his movement, handing the heavy coats to Mrs. Hudson. The woman vanished out the door, and Gregson moved for one of the couches. Lestrade moved for the fire instead, and once again my eyes were drawn to the inward twist of his foot.

Holmes followed my line of sight, before speaking, "I see your foot is giving more trouble then it generally does."

The most astonishing thing happened then- I fully expected for Gregson to smugly make a remark about it as Lestrade fumed to one side. Instead, Gregson grew quiet, gaze growing fixated on the book case across from him, as Lestrade took a great deal of interest in the fire.

Silence stretched for a few moments longer, before Lestrade cleared his throat. His voice was slightly low as he answered Holmes, "Not by much. I twisted it slightly while walking down the Thames earlier."

Even I was taken back by this rather blatant attempt at a lie, but Lestrade refused to meet my eye, choosing to stare into the fire instead. I looked to my companion, and my heart sank at the sight. Holmes gray eyes were alight in curiosity, and an ever slight smile was curving his mouth. He looked very much like a hound picking up on a trace scent.

Lestrade apparently noticed this, for he hastily interjected, "Mister Holmes, we came about the Merington Case. You would not of happened to of read today's paper would you?"

Holmes gestured expansively to the table, where several papers lay, folded up. "I gleaned what I could from the press, and now I ask of you two what other details have escaped them."

Gregson shook his head in disgust. "That's all we have unfortunately. Some fool managed to leak all of the details to the press, and they have proceeded to build upon it instead. The iron poker was not actually missing from the fireplace, despite what the paper may claim."

Lestrade nodded from the fire, hands groping for his notebook. Carefully he flipped it open, and riffled through it. "The body was found at five o'clock of the morning- the maid confirmed it by looking at the timepiece on the mantle, before running for the Constable."

"The maid is married to a police-man correct?"

"Yes, to Constable Tennet I believe. He's a good lad; a bit prone to flights of fancy though. I think he should've been an actor rather than a police-man but he is here so..."

Gregson snorted from his comfortable seat. "Tennet is in the force because he knows he will never make it as an actor. He doesn't have the face for it." He laughed quietly, at his own private joke. "It may court a few of the ladies, but it also drew other attention that made the guild masters quite uncomfortable if you know what I mean."

Lestrade nodded sharply once, before returning to his notes. "Tennet alerted Inspector Bradstreet-"

"No, he did not ratty." Gregson immediately proclaimed. In a second, the two were at each others throats, despite the fact that Gregson was a good head taller then Lestrade, the ferret-like man refused to back down.

I cleared my throat, interrupting them; "I believe I must get back to my wife soon, but I would like to hear what there is to be said."

Then began perhaps one of the most round-about tellings of a story I have perhaps ever had the pleasure of hearing- they would stop at just about any detail they possibly could to quibble over it, and did so.

Even Holmes eventually grew weary of their squabbling, and held up a hand. Neither noticed, choosing to carry on with their quarrel, which had long since degraded from the case into a little more personal territory, spanning across several years, as I could hear references to other cases. "I do not see what your problem was with that dratted Hound business!"

"My problem with it is that for all cases involving dogs from thereafter you have proceeded to dump all cases involving dogs upon me!"

"And you dump all cases that may have to do with cats upon me! And you weren't the one who watched that giant dog bound across the moor glowing green! Your problem with cats lies with the Lady Riverton case where her cat attempted to claw your eyes out."

"Did you not see the size of that cat man? I-"

"GENTLEMEN PLEASE!" Holmes roar brought all attention to him. Both Lestrade and Gregson glowered at this interruption of their argument. I stifled my own smile, for despite my own irritation at the many interruptions, it was also quite refreshing to hear the two bicker.

"The case?"

Both continued to stare at him. Lestrade at last was the one to huff, "We just told you all the particulars of the case. Were you not listening? Everything up to the point where we bean discussing animals was what wasn't covered in the Paper already."

Gregson snorted, "There is still the matter of who leaked the information."

"Tennets wife no doubt." Lestrade murmured back, looking thoughtful, head cocking to the side just a bit. His dark eyes were distant, and Gregson seemed also just as thoughtful, thick hands propping up his head, blue eyes staring contemplatively at the bookcase. "We won't be able to confirm it."

"Mmm, oh, I think I shall."

Lestrade's head whipped towards him, "And just how do you propose that?"

"Now, now Ratty, I'll show you later. Until then-" Gregson turned for the door, every step measured and stately. "I will be at the Yard if you have need of any more information."

Lestrade was after him in a moment, twisted foot apparently soothed by the fire, as he harried the man with questions. "You plan on doing what Gregson?"

"Later Ratty."

"Stop with the theatrics fat-head-" What Lestrade was about to say was abruptly cut off as Mrs. Hudson appeared with the men's hats and coats. Quickly they dressed and stepped out into the cold, their voices rising in argument once more as they took off down the street.

Holmes slipped from his seat, leaning against the window to watch the two make their way down the street, while I waited for my companions words. "Aha! He is no longer limping quite as much. How very amusing Watson, very amusing indeed."

"The cold would aggravate the muscles, cause them to freeze up, and he already has trouble with his back from the unbalance caused by the twist. What I find most curious is Gregson's reaction."

"They may fight like cats and dogs, but they can work together well enough when and if needed. They purposely set each other up to leave at the same time, so that way I could not snatch one of them alone to ask about the matter. No doubt they plan on avoiding Baker Street for the next good while until they think I have dropped the subject."