Author's note: Sorry it's been so long. I know I've been negligent, but I've been busy with work and trying to get things ready for school and stuff like that. Not only that, but I'm going on vacation and will be at the beach all week, so you won't get any updates until sometime next week at the earliest. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I have left you with a few things before I go.


Nobody moved for several seconds after Holmes' revelation.

The accused was the first to recover. He turned towards Watson and darted towards him, fist raised as if to strike. It would have been a wicked right cross, had it reached its intended target.

The blow never landed. The man tripped over Adams' outstretched leg and stumbled right into Smith, who caught and cuffed him in one smooth motion.

"We came for him, and him only, sirs!" Smith raised his voice to address the startled audience. "We're perfectly content to just take him and leave the rest of you in peace tonight, but if you want a fight, we'll certainly give it to you!" The surrounding crowd stirred uneasily, but they didn't want trouble, or at least, most of them did not.

One man, however, decided he needed to come to his companion's aid and stepped between the group and the door.

Adams, who was closest to the man, shook his head. "You know you're outnumbered four to one, sir. I suggest you reconsider your options."

The man's response was to draw the knife he had been carrying and take a step towards us. Adams looked at the man for a second, then promptly kicked him in the knee.

There was the sound of bone breaking and the man screamed and went down, clutching at his knee. Adams walked right past him and continued on towards the door.

Watson hesitated, but Smith casually shoved him forward. It was enough to throw him off balance, causing Holmes to move with him, though he shot Smith and irritated glance as he did so.

Smith didn't seem to notice, but handed their man off to Adams as he paused in the door. "I suggest you lot clear out before someone at the Yard decides to pay a visit down here." He suggested pleasantly before joining us out in the street.

The two Constables were once again silent as we made our way down the street. Watson had it in his mind to say something to Lestrade about Adams' treatment of the man we had left behind when they returned to Scotland Yard, for it had seemed to the Doctor that breaking the man's knee had not been necessary. He had also gotten the impression that the Constable had enjoyed doing it.

It was Smith that finally broke the silence. "Was that Runner John?" He asked.

Adams nodded. "It was."

Smith chuckled. "They might actually catch him next time."

"That was the plan." Adams replied coolly. "If we can finally get that filthy-"

Smith cleared his throat, and Adams cut himself off. The two men were silent once more.

"Runner John?" Watson ventured, after a moment. Adams grunted.

"We've been after him for years." Smith explained. "He always manages to break away at the first sign of trouble and get clear."

"So you broke his knee." Watson said. Adams shrugged.

"He would have knife one of us, given the chance, especially since we had his brother here." Adams nodded towards the man they had arrested. The man swore and tried to jerk away from Adams, but Adams had a good hold on him, so all he managed to do was get his arm wrenched for his trouble.

The rest of the trip back to the Yard was quiet, save for the occasional curse from Runner John's captured brother. Watson was surprised by the number of different abuses the man came up with to throw at the Constables, who seemed to be catching most of his aggression, and Watson was surprised at how easily the two seemed to ignore him.

They walked along, quiet and steadfast, and never gave even the slightest indication that they could hear the blistering verbal onslaught that was being directed at them.

Holmes was rather relieved that the two didn't ask questions or try to carry on a conversation. He really didn't care for excessive, frivolous conversation, and too many Constables tried to be friendly, or at least polite, or they asked an excess of questions, and a few would even try to impress him, all of which could be rather trying on his patience.

A police whistle sounded suddenly, in the distance. Adams and Smith exchanged a glance, and Adams handed the cuffed man back to Smith.

"If you don't mind, sirs, Constable Smith is more than capable of handling things from here, and it sounds as if Evans is in need of assistance." Adams said quickly. "That's his area, and help's been scarce of late, so if you'll excuse me…"

Holmes was a bit annoyed, but nodded anyway, and Adams exchanged one last glance with Smith before he took off.

Smith was capable of handling the man. They soon reached Scotland Yard, and were met by Lestrade at the entrance.

"Adams went to help?" Lestrade greeted the three with the question. Smith nodded. "Go on, then." Lestrade told him. "And be careful." The captive man was handed off once more, this time to Lestrade himself, and Smith quickly left.

Lestrade eyed the cuffed man, surprise written on his features. "What is it?" Watson asked. Lestrade started, then shrugged.

"We've been looking for him." Was what he said. "And his brother."

"Runner John?" Watson asked, and Lestrade blinked.

"You saw him." He guessed.

"Adams broke his knee." Watson replied.

"Ah." Lestrade nodded. "Well, nobody's perfect."

"He seemed to enjoy it." Watson added.

Lestrade wasn't surprised. "He swore he'd kill the man, if he ever came across him again. Glad to see Smith talked some sense into him."

"But why would Adams want to kill the man?" Watson asked. He knew he was prying, but he couldn't help but ask.

Lestrade hesitated. Then he sighed. "Runner John and James, his brother here, are the reason Inspector Adams had to retire. Constable Adams' father." He explained. "The Inspector took a bullet in the leg, and it never really healed. Lestrade's dark eyes glittered. "Adams and Smith followed in their father's footsteps." He said darkly. "Adams and Smith senior were both Inspectors when I first joined the force." Once more, he hesitated. "Inspector Smith was killed in the same raid in which Inspector Adams was shot."

"James and Runner John fled London, and managed not to resurface until a few years ago, but Constable Adams recognized them both." He added, almost reluctantly.

"Why are you telling me this?" Watson asked, as Lestrade fell silent. The Inspector wasn't usually so free with personal information, whether his or anyone else's. Lestrade offered the Doctor a weary smile.

"I wouldn't have you think ill of the boys for breaking a man's knee when it wasn't necessary." He replied absently, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. "They're good men; very capable, very professional. Not a word of complaint about being sent out, though they're being run ragged this week, what with all the injuries going around."

It was at that moment that Constable Evans arrived; bruised, bleeding, and out of breath. His eyes, though one was already swelling, were on Watson as he stopped in front of the group.

"You're still here, thank God!" The man gasped, then turned to Lestrade. "Trouble at Willie's, sir. Got it cleared up now, but Adams is down, and in bad shape, and Smith took a few hits when he insisted on dragging the fellow out of the fight after he went down.

Lestrade scowled, and turned to Watson. "I know you and Mr. Holmes just finished a case-" He began. Watson cut him off.

"I'll be glad to be able to help, Lestrade, you know that." Watson told him. Then he turned to look for Holmes, who had been waiting rather impatiently for his friend to finish speaking with Lestrade. "I'll see you at home, I suppose, Holmes, after I've seen to the Constables." He told the amateur detective. Holmes nodded, and the group made there way outside only to head their separate ways once there.

Watson, Evans, and Lestrade took a cab; Lestrade had followed in spite of the fact that he had already been up and about more than he should have. Evans was worried as they rode; Watson could not tell if Lestrade was.

They reached the bar and piled out of the cab. Lestrade was the last out, and paid the driver as he disembarked and asked the man to wait for their return.


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