After a thorough and rather distasteful examination of the body of the small boy, Lestrade covered him back up. I fancied that I was not the only person in the room relieved when the horrible sight was again hidden, just as I fancied I was not the only one who would continue to be haunted by it.

We left the room, and were reunited with a rather bored and somewhat miffed Holmes. I could hardly blame him for not wanting to be left out, really, in spite of the horror that I had just witnessed. I also wondered why Lestrade had chosen to exclude him. It was not at all like the Inspector.

Lestrade silently led us to his office and closed the door behind him before he actually brought the corpse back up again.

"Hopkins found him in the street not far from his sister's house; he was on his way to visit her." He explained. "It's one of the worse sections of town, but he's convinced that the boy wasn't from down there. He also doesn't think it was done by anyone around there."

I sighed. "Whoever did it knew what they were doing, Lestrade." I said. "You saw the body; it's obvious whoever did it wanted the boy to suffer."

Someone had tortured that child before killing him and dumping him in the street. "This wasn't just premeditated." I pointed out. "It was meticulously planned."

Lestrade somehow managed to keep his expression neutral, though his dark eyes were glittered dangerously. "And we have no way of knowing who it was or when it happened, or even who the boy was." He commented. "We-"

He broke in mid-sentence off as the door opened and Gregson strode in, irritation etched plainly on his face. "Superintendent wants to see you. What's he doing here?" Gregson pointed rudely at Holmes, much to my surprise.

Lestrade scowled. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" He snapped. "And for your information, I wasn't consulting Mr. Holmes. I was asking the Doctor, who happens to work here, for his opinion on something, and Mr. Holmes insisted on tagging along."

Holmes was almost successful in hiding his reaction to that, but neither Inspector noticed anyway. They were too busy trying to glare holes in each other.

"Best not keep the Superintendent waiting." Gregson sneered at the smaller man. "You're already in enough trouble as it is."

"Shut up, Gregson." Lestrade snapped. "I'll leave when you get your sorry self out of my office."

"If you need any help with your case, and I'm sure you will-" Gregson offered mockingly.

"I wouldn't ask you." Lestrade interrupted. "Get out."

Gregson left, and Lestrade turned to the two of us. "Excuse me, Doctor, Mr. Holmes. I'm sorry, but I'm sure you can find your way out?"

I frowned. "But what about the boy?" I asked. "Surely-"

"It will have to wait." Lestrade said dismissively. "Thank you, Doctor. Another time, I hope." He turned and left us standing there in his office, much to my surprise and discomfiture.

Judging by the expression on Holmes' face, I was not the only one taken aback by what had just happened. But Holmes shook his head, ever so slightly, and recovered.

"Come along, Watson." He said, a slight note of annoyance in his tone. "It would seem Lestrade is finished with you for now."

Gregson was still lurking around outside of Lestrade's office as we came out. "Solving another of Lestrade's cases for him?" He asked, as he fell into step with us. I wondered why the man suddenly seemed intent on walking us out.

"He wanted a second opinion on the body." I informed the man coolly. "Nobody is solving anybody's cases for them."

Gregson scoffed. "If you say so, Dr. Watson." Bradstreet shot Gregson a vile look as we passed his office, but the older Inspector didn't seem to notice.

"Is something wrong between you and Lestrade?" I asked, suddenly concerned. I had never known the two to be openly belligerent towards each other, however little they might care for one another.

"Nothing new, Dr. Watson. Don't trouble yourself on his account." Gregson told me sharply. I was essentially being told to mind my own business.

I consequently did not ask if there were something going on between Lestrade and the new Superintendent. I knew Gregson would not have told me if there were.

Holmes was in a black mood as we returned to Baker Street, and threw himself into his chair and proceeded to scrape out some of the most grating and nerve wracking compositions on his violin I had heard in years.

I wondered what was bothering him, but knew it would do me no good to ask now. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until the man was ready to share them. I therefore resigned myself to considering those things which were bothering me, of which, I must confess, the murdered child was one of the lesser issues.

This sudden outbreak in hostility between Lestrade and Gregson worried me. It was not like them, not in the least. They may have had a form of rivalry going between them, they might annoy and irritate and even dislike each other, but to put that enmity on a pedestal for all to see was certainly not something either man would ever dream of doing.

Lestrade's insistence that he was not consulting Holmes bothered me as well. It was-odd, really, unlike Lestrade, and I didn't quite know what to make of it. Something about the declaration set off warning flags in the back of my mind.

And, unless I was mistaken, Gregson had made some comment about Lestrade being in trouble with the new Superintendent. Lestrade had ignored the comment, certainly, but he had also not refuted it. Was he in trouble with this Crane fellow? If so, why?

I remembered then, near the end of the incident with the previous Superintendent, Marshall, that Hopkins had been the one to inform Gregson of the identity of Marshall's replacement, and that Gregson had been less than pleased. I suddenly wondered why.

Of course, it was not likely I was going to get any answers to my questions soon, and Holmes looked as if he would be occupied for the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon. I sighed and tried, unsuccessfully, to distract myself with a book.

The rest of the morning dragged on with agonizing slowness.

Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.