"Um." Hopkins peeked his head in the office. "Can I bother you for a minute?"
"You already are." Bradstreet joked. "Come on in." Hesitantly Hopkins came in, and took a seat. "What's going on?"
Hopkins shifted nervously. "I'm getting married."
Bradstreet looked upwards. "Congratulations?" He asked. "Is that what you're looking for? Because we've already established that I am not the person you should go to for advice."
Hopkins ducked his head and took to studying the floor. "No, it's just that I, um…I need a best man."
Bradstreet felt his jaw drop. After a minute he managed to gather his wits about him enough to reply. "And I'm your best pick? What's wrong with you, lad? Don't you have any friends?"
Hopkins glared at him. "Do any of us here have friends outside the job?" He wanted to know.
Bradstreet conceded that. "Family?" He tried.
Hopkins shook his head. "I have a sister. That's it."
Bradstreet couldn't help it. "You didn't think Gregson would be a better choice?" Hopkins shot him a withering look, and he snickered. A second later Hopkins snorted.
"Seriously, though." Hopkins said after a moment.
Bradstreet stifled a sigh. "Sure." He agreed. "Sure thing, Hopkins."
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys at the Yard do not belong to me.
