Headstrong

It was the end of another long and exciting case. Holmes sighed.

"I suppose we ought to go and give our statements to those fools at Scotland Yard," he grumbled, standing to pull on his coat.

Knowing of his opinions on the inspectors, I made no comment on his insult, instead saying, "I suppose they shall busy tying up all of the paperwork."

He turned to me, a curious smile twisting on his lips, and unless I was mistaken, a glint in his eye. "Of course… you have not seen Scotland Yard at the conclusion of a case, have you?"

"No..." I replied, "I cannot think it will be far different from what it is like during a case though?"

Holmes turned around, but I could see that he was smiling, "Well… you shall see."

-/-/-/-/-

"Who are you betting on?"

"Well I- I don't-"

"Lestrade or Gregson; which one's the strongest head?"

At this strange question, from a constable who appeared to be caught in the throes of indecision, I could only stare. Luckily, Holmes interjected on my behalf.

"Lestrade. He's small, but compact."

The constable nodded gratefully, and returned to the crowd lining the sides of the large corridor we now stood in. They all seemed to be discussing Lestrade and Gregson, but I was still confused as to why.

"Holmes," I said, "what on earth is going on?"

"It is a… sport, they indulge in. At the successful end to a case. Watch and it will all be made clear Watson."

I nodded and watched the corridor. At that precise moment, Lestrade emerged from one end, and Gregson from another. Or at least, I thought that was who it was; both men wore buckets on their heads.

The constable from earlier hurriedly finished his discussion with some kind of bookie, and came to the centre of the corridor.

"Alright! You all know the rules," he bellowed. "The aim of the game is to be last man standing. Both men shall run at each other, head butt and the one to fall first will be the one with the weakest head. On your marks…. Get set… GO!"

On the word go, both men ran at each other, heads (and therefore buckets) lowered. As a medical man I winced; this was going to be painful…

CLANG! Sure enough, on impact, both men staggered back, clutching their heads. For a while they both tottered about, but just as Holmes had predicted, it was Gregson who fell first.

"And the winner is… INSPECTOR LESTRADE!"

The crowd cheered and, bewildered, I watched as money exchanged hands. Holmes smiled at my expression.

"Why… why do they do this?" I asked, completely at a loss.

Holmes shrugged. "I've no idea. Personally I believe there is very little between how headstrong each of them is."