"Where's the American?" Jones wanted to know.

Bradstreet shook his head. "He got what he came for." He replied grimly. Jones didn't ask anything else. He didn't need to. "So Hopkins got his man after all." Bradstreet commented as he sank into his seat and signaled for a drink.

"At least something good came out of this mess." Jones replied. He closed his eyes. "Bloody secret missions. Sent us into a death trap there. We were lucky."

"Of course we were lucky." Gregson retorted as he joined the two. "Anytime anyone is daft enough to go in there and makes it out alive, it's by pure luck." He groaned as he too took a seat. "Let's not do it again anytime soon."

I'll agree with that." Bradstreet muttered. "What are you going to tell people when they ask about your eye? And the rest of your face, for that matter."

Gregson almost smiled, then winced. He had a black eye, and most of the left half of his face was bruised. "I'll just tell them the same thing Lestrade plans on telling them. That we got into it again."

Jones rolled his eyes. "The last time you two 'got into it' physically was on Holmes' orders."

Gregson shrugged. "I can't help what people believe. So the American killed him, then?" Bradstreet nodded. "I thought he would. At least we're rid of him now. The American, that is."

"At least." Jones echoed wearily. "So is Hopkins any good in a fight?"

Bradstreet laughed. "You've never seen Hopkins in a fight?" He asked. Jones shook his head.

Again, Gregson nearly grinned. "The lad's a terror." He said. "I've never seen anything like it. I think his sister taught him to fight when they were little, and when he joined the Yard he just took all that and added it to what they taught him. He knows some interesting tricks, and isn't above pinching or scratching or gouging if he thinks it necessary."

"Gouging." Jones repeated. "Pinching? Are you serious?"

"He towed Wilson out of there by his ear." Gregson replied cheerfully. "You have to admit, it's hard to put up a fight when someone's got you by the ear." Bradstreet rubbed his own ear absently at the thought.

"Remind me to stay on Hopkins' good side." Jones decided. He was only half joking. "He joining us tonight?"

Gregson shook his head. "No, he's got Wilson to deal with. Lestrade won't be by either." He added before they could ask.

"He all right?" Bradstreet wanted to know. "I know the last time he was fool enough to go in there-"

"He's all right." Gregson assured the other Inspector. "He just hasn't been home for a couple days now. Wish my wife took my absences that well."

"It's not natural." Jones grumbled. "Or fair."


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