Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately, except for the characters I created.
A/N: Next update will not be until Friday. Enjoy the chapter! Please review!
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Kate Watson Lestrade was settled on the couch in her cousin John's flat, enjoying a cup of tea. It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and Kate had enjoyed the walk to 221B Baker Street. John's flatmate, the one and only Sherlock Holmes, was glancing through the newspaper for interesting cases.

"Hmm," the consulting detective murmured. "This looks like a good one: a store clerk found dead in his workplace. I'll have to swing by the Yard on Monday and see what I can find out."

"Don't do it," Kate warned. "The DI on the case recently transferred to London from Manchester, and may be the biggest jerk I've ever met. He won't appreciate what he'll see as interference."

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not worried."

Kate let the matter drop, but later, as John walked her out, she cautioned him to watch his step if Sherlock was determined to investigate the case.

"Bryant doesn't care about anyone's opinion but his own. He's cold, arrogant, and looks down on everyone."

"Sounds familiar," John commented, glancing back towards his flat.

Kate chuckled. "No, because Sherlock actually has a heart, even though he'd never admit it. This guy . . .well, let's just say I'm not sure he has any redeeming qualities."

"Have you already butted heads with him?"

She nodded. "Asked him a question during a press conference; one he didn't know the answer to. He hates me now."

"Does he know you're married to one of his colleagues?"

"No, I don't think so. Wouldn't make any difference to him, anyhow. Good luck keeping him and Sherlock from killing each other."

"Thanks."

On Monday afternoon, Kate decided to see if her husband was free for lunch. He was, and they were seated in his office, enjoying sandwiches from Subway, when a commotion drew their attention.

"Five pounds says it's Bryant and Sherlock."

Gabriel chuckled. "Nice try, love, but I'm not taking that bet."

As they moved out into the squad room, they could see the men in question standing almost nose-to-nose. Sherlock's lean, lanky form dwarfed the stocky Inspector who was glaring up into his face.

"Now you listen to me, Mr. Holmes. I won't have some interloper waltzing in and showing me up. You know so much about what happened, how do I know you weren't involved?"

Kate saw her cousin's face go hard with anger, but Sherlock shook his head, and John kept his mouth shut. Sherlock stayed cool and impassive as he answered the official detective's question.

"Because if I had anything to do with the crime, you wouldn't have anywhere near as much evidence. I never would have been so careless."

"He has a point there," Gabriel murmured.

But Bryant wasn't about to back down. He kept pushing. "Well, do you have an alibi?"

Several gasps and expressions of dismay were heard from those in earshot. Sherlock, on the other hand, didn't even blink.

"I was home, which can be confirmed by both my flatmate and my landlady."

"How do I know they won't lie for you?"

This time, John actually stepped forward and opened his mouth, but Sherlock held up a restraining hand.

"You're wasting our time, Inspector. Let's focus on catching the real criminal, instead of pursuing the ridiculous notion of my involvement."

With that, Sherlock turned his back on the disgruntled Bryant and walked away. John followed. As they passed Kate and Gabriel, the doctor leaned close to whisper to his cousin.

"I hoped you were exaggerating."

She responded with a sympathetic expression. "I wish I had been. Horrid, isn't he?"

"You said it." John sighed, shook his head, and hurried to catch up to his friend.

A couple of days later, Kate once more found herself at New Scotland Yard, this time for a press conference. After it was over, she headed for Gabriel's office to say a quick hello. She wasn't expecting to cross paths with Bryant, Sherlock and John. The consulting detective nodded to her, her cousin gave her a quick smile, and both kept walking. Bryant, however, stopped to glare at her.

"Hovering around hoping to overhear something you can use in a story? That's cheating, isn't it?"

Kate chuckled. "That's not my intention at all, Inspector, particularly since I agree with you: that is cheating."

Bryant's glare became even more suspicious, but before he could speak, Sherlock called to him.

"Detective Inspector, we don't really have time to waste if we're going to find the suspect at home!"

The detective rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. Kate couldn't quite make out the words, but she was guessing it was derogatory. He gave her one last glower and walked away.

She spoke with John the next day and learned that DI Bryant's attitude towards Sherlock hadn't changed. He no longer considered the man a suspect, and grudgingly listened to him, but made it clear that he was in charge of the investigation. He took credit for the consultant's successes and blamed Sherlock for his own failures. Kate figured there was going to be another blow-up before the case was over.

She was right. On Friday, as she was getting ready to head back to work after lunch, Bryant stormed into the squad room in a fury. He knocked Kate down and kept going, without an apology. John stopped to help her up, and make sure she was all right.

Bryant and Sherlock, meanwhile, were arguing loudly.

"This is my case, Holmes! Don't try to take all the credit for yourself!"

"I prefer not to take the credit, actually. But I'm sure it will be my fault if the murderer gets away because you refuse to listen to me!"

"I've had enough of your crackpot theories! I know what I'm doing. You can consider yourself off the case!"

Kate and John exchanged surprised looks. Bryant was making a huge mistake, but his ego prevented him from seeing the enormity of it. Sherlock merely shrugged and turned his back on the Inspector.

As he approached, Kate suggested, "Maybe you should go talk to Dimmock, Sherlock. From what he said during that press conference the other day, I think he'd welcome your help."

"Thank you, Kate. I'll do that."

Kate's lunch break was almost over, so she headed towards the lifts. She'd only made it a few steps before she felt a hand close around her upper arm in an iron-like grip. Wincing, she turned and looked up at Bryant.

"Is there something I can help you with, Detective Inspector?"

"What's your business here? Always lurking about. Trying to get inside information for stories?"

"Of course not. Now I'll thank you to let go of me."

Instead, he yanked her closer. But before he could say anything, there was an angry voice behind him.

"What the hell's going on here?"

"Stay out of this, Lestrade," Bryant glared at his colleague.

"I bloody well won't. Take your hands off my wife. Now."

Kate almost laughed at the way Bryant paled.

"Wife?"

"That's right. I'm not asking again."

As his grip on her arm loosened, Kate quickly stepped back. She winced as she rubbed the sore area; there'd probably be some bruising tomorrow. Gabriel gave her a concerned glance.

"All right, darling?"

"I think so, yeah."

"I'll handle this; you go on."

Kate didn't have to be told twice. She quickly exited the building and caught a cab back to the newspaper. She was curious about what would happen to Bryant now, but she didn't really want to stick around to find out.

A month later, between assaulting a colleague's wife, and the fact that not listening to Sherlock meant he let the murderer escape, Bryant was transferred again: this time to a small rural department. Kate knew she wasn't the only one who thought the London police were better off without him.