"The Inspectors are, um, busy." Constable Smith informed Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson nervously. He knew what he had seen, and he knew that he had been lucky to get off with just a warning that no one was to bother the Inspectors until further notice. He also knew it was unlikely anyone would believe him, even if he dared to talk.
Sherlock Holmes was, of course, not impressed. "All of them?" He demanded coolly. "At the same time?"
Smith decided he was doomed, and nodded. Sherlock Holmes generally knew when someone was lying to him, and would likely not hesitate to call the Constable on it. "Perhaps you might come back later." He suggested, without much hope.
He wondered if it would be worth trying to prevent the amateur detective from barging past anyway. It would likely be ineffective at best.
Predictably, the man's patience didn't last, and he did barge past as if he owned the place, or at least the right to intrude upon whatever the Inspectors were doing. The Doctor shot Smith an apologetic glance and followed his friend. Smith followed the two of them, hoping he could at least put on a convincing act of having done his best to keep the two out. If nothing else, it would be better to be there to be yelled at than for someone to have to track him down later for the same purpose.
He watched as Sherlock Holmes correctly surmised that the Inspectors were gathered in Lestrade's office and opened the door. The amateur detective stopped in the doorway, staring, his mouth half open in the beginnings of a summons.
Smith sighed and waited for the Inspectors to realize they had an audience. They were rather preoccupied, so it might be a while.
"Whoever it was, wasn't just trying to drown them, Lestrade. Look at them!" Gregson growled, gesturing.
"They're half starved." Hopkins commented. "It's possible he finally accepted that he couldn't feed them and decided to put them out of their misery."
"Even so, he was given to fits of temper. Look at this one here." Jones pointed out gruffly.
"Any idea who he was?" Bradstreet wanted to know.
A rather wet Lestrade shook his head. "It was either go after the man or fish them out of the river. I couldn't do both." He grumbled.
The Inspectors studied the results of his rescue solemnly. "Well, what are you going to do with them?" Bradstreet asked, curiously.
Lestrade threw his hands up in the air. "I can't take them home; I can't afford to feed them."
"You can't let them loose on the street; they'd never survive." Gregson accused.
"You take them, then." Lestrade retorted.
"I can't and you know it." Gregson snapped.
"Oh, right, the dog." Lestrade grumbled.
"I could take one." Hopkins offered. "It might even get me out of trouble with the Mrs. She's been wanting one."
"Do you know how much trouble those things are?" Jones wanted to know.
"At this age, a lot." Hopkins replied. "But then they get older, you know."
"Maybe." Jones replied.
"Well, I'll take one, and Adams said if you're giving them away…" Bradstreet trailed off.
"Adams wants one?" Hopkins was surprised.
Gregson snorted. "There's a lot more to Adams than he lets on. After all, he's put up with Lestrade for years.
"Very funny." Lestrade retorted. "So you'll take one, Hopkins, and you, Bradstreet."
"And Adams wants one." Bradstreet reminded him.
"And Adams wants one." Lestrade echoed. "That leaves two more."
"Well, two is better than five." Gregson pointed out. "And I told you, I'm not taking one."
"I'll take one." Jones grumbled. "Like Gregson said, you can't turn them loose on the street."
Lestrade sighed. "I guess I can manage one." He said reluctantly.
"You didn't have to rescue them." Gregson pointed out.
"He couldn't let them drown!" Hopkins was horrified. "Look at them!"
Gregson did look, over to Lestrade's desk, which had been quickly cleared, and to where the man himself was trying with a towel to dry off four soaking wet, scrawny, miserable-looking kittens while a fifth one insisted on clinging to his shoulder.
His gaze softened, and his shoulders slumped. "I guess not." He conceded. "Still, better him than me." He smirked as Lestrade shot him a look that he had to break off quickly as he kept one of the kittens from straying too near the edge of his desk.
Holmes had recovered by then, but the image of five Inspectors fretting over a litter of half drowned kittens was enough to elicit a burst of laughter from the man. Smith winced; the effect was instantaneous.
All five Inspectors whirled around as if they had been shot, guilty expressions on every face. They caught sight of Holmes and reddened, and Jones and Gregson both favored Smith with an evil glare.
"I tried to stop them." Smith mumbled helplessly. It didn't help. "I'll just…excuse me." He muttered, trying to make a break for it while Holmes was still laughing.
Red-faced, Jones and Hopkins scooped up the still bedraggled balls of fluff they had apparently claimed and stalked past Holmes and Watson. Bradstreet grinned and shrugged, then scooped up a ball of fur of his own, nodded to Lestrade, and offered to send Adams in on his way back to his office.
Gregson pointedly ignored Holmes and Watson as he followed Bradstreet out of Lestrade's office, leaving just the three of them and two kittens standing in the office.
Holmes was still laughing when Adams stopped in. "Do you have any left?" He asked. "I told Bradstreet to ask-" The Constable froze as he spotted Holmes and Watson, then with great determination forced himself to continue. "Are there any left?"
Lestrade gestured towards the kitten that was still dripping on his desk, and Adams determinedly picked it up by the scruff of its neck, thanked Lestrade, and departed with a curt nod towards Holmes and Watson, as if there were nothing at all unusual about Lestrade dispensing kittens in his office, or about him stopping by to claim one.
Still a bit flushed, Lestrade waited for Holmes to get over his fit of mirth. When finally he calmed, Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Holmes?" He asked.
Holmes considered the kitten that was still hanging from Lestrade's jacket. "You seem a bit occupied today." He said after a moment. "Perhaps we should speak with Gregson."
Lestrade shrugged. "He's probably more presentable at the moment, anyway." He said, wincing as the kitten started to slip and consequently dug its claws into his shoulder.
"If you'll excuse us then, Lestrade." Holmes said. "Come along, Watson."
Watson offered Lestrade a smile. "Sorry to trouble you for nothing, Inspector."
Lestrade nodded as he tried to disentangle claws from his jacket. "Mr. Holmes. Doctor."
They had barely made it out the door before Holmes was laughing again. This time Watson couldn't keep from joining him.
Author's note: Is anyone immune to the charms of a kitten? This was actually brought on by my grandmother calling and telling us about the kittens my cousin had found.
My cousin is tough, doesn't put up with crap, works as a security guard, etc...Anyway, she found a litter of kittens, about two weeks old, under a bush where their mother had abandoned them. She had to work, but she took them to her Dad, who is, for lack of a better description, all red-neck, and told him he had to take care of the kittens and feed them every four hours. And he did, for her.
Well, a couple weeks later my cousin and her roommate were doing laundry at around 1:00 in the morning, and they had a front loader washer. They loaded and started the laundry, then turned around to see two balls of fluff going around in circles in the washer. So they pulled them out and were trying to beat the water out of them and they called the vet and the vet wouldn't tell them anything over the phone and said they'd have to bring the kittens in.
About that time the two wet kittens start screaming, and the vet tells my cousin that if they're screaming like that, they're fine. In reply she wails, "But they're walking around all wobbly!"
And the idea of my rough, tough cousin wailing over a couple of kittens set me down the road to the idea of five police Inspectors worrying over a litter of half-drowned kittens. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and don't worry, at last report the kittens were fine.
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.
