Doctor John Watson regarded the young man before him.

"Inspector Lestrade is not someone I would cross." He said gently as he opened his medical bag.

The Inspector, Green, if Watson remembered correctly, looked up in surprise. "Who told you that?" He demanded, a flash of anger and humiliation in his eyes.

Watson smiled as he went through his bag. "No one told me, Inspector." He assured Greene. "But you have a black eye, a split lip, and your nose, while recently bloodied, is not broken. You are stiff, which suggests bruising, but not in enough pain to suggest any broken bones. So while you have been thoroughly battered, and whoever did it wanted people to see and for you to remember it, your assailant also took care not to do any serious damage. This suggests that someone wanted to teach you a lesson, and that it was therefore probably someone who works with you. An Inspector, most likely. Take your shirt off."

Greene did, reluctantly, revealing a number of bruises on his arms and torso. "What makes you say it was Lestrade?" He insisted sulkily.

Watson was silent a moment before answering. "Nobody delivers a beating like Inspector Lestrade, though he does it rarely." The doctor smiled. "He was also the one that asked me to look you over."

Greene scowled. "Why the devil should he care?" He demanded.

Watson's eyebrows went up. "He cares because you're a fellow Yarder. He doesn't want to see you get yourself in trouble, or get killed. He wanted to make you think."

"So he beat me half to death." Green spat. "Great method."

Watson met the young man's angry gaze evenly. "Better Lestrade that someone who would kill you just as soon as look at you." He said coolly.

Watson closed his bag and took a seat. "They're a hard lot, Green." He said kindly. "They're difficult to work with, and it's difficult to gain their respect." He leaned forward as he spoke. "But pay attention; watch, listen. You can learn a lot from them, if you'll let yourself."

The young man glared at the doctor for a full minute before he finally spoke. "They don't think I have what it takes." Greene confessed, and his shoulders slumped. "They want me to fail. Prove them right."

Watson sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, searching for something to say to the Inspector. "Lestrade doesn't." He finally said.

Greene's head snapped up. "Pardon?"

Watson stood, and went to retrieve his bag. "If Lestrade didn't think you had a chance, he wouldn't have wasted his time on you. Good day, Inspector."

Greene rose stiffly. "Thanks." He said a bit awkwardly. "What do I owe you for-?"

Watson raised a hand to interrupt him. "I don't charge the men of the Yard injured in the line of duty."

Greene frowned. "I wasn't." He pointed out.

Watson smiled. "I know. But I don't charge people who have tangled with Lestrade either." His eyes twinkled. "At least, that's what I had to tell the man to stop him from trying to pay me for coming out here."

With that parting shot the doctor retrieved his hat and his stick, and departed.

Greene stared after him.


Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me. Neither does the good Doctor, for that matter.