Superintendent Marshall met his superior at the door with a smile that was just a little put on. "Chief Superintendent." He greeted the man. "How are you this morning?"

Chief Superintendent Dickens offered the other man his own slightly fake smile as he replied. "Well enough. And yourself?"

"Well enough." Marshall echoed the man. "I could show you around, if you'd like." He offered. He did not want the man snooping around in his department without someone to keep an eye on him. Dickens could understand that.

He also knew the best way to get an idea of what a department was really like was not to go around announced as the Chief Superintendent. He proposed a compromise. "I'm sure you have other things to do than spend the day keeping an eye on your superior." He suggested, and Marshall shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps you have someone else who is not quite as busy, or as notable, who could do the honors."

Marshall frowned; he was not entirely sure it was a good idea for the other man to go around incognito, but to refuse would cause ill feelings and perhaps even worse problems later. Besides, Dickens was offering to work with him on this.

"Very good, sir." He accepted the offer. "I could have Constable Evans show you around."

Dickens nodded. "That will do nicely, Superintendent."

Constable Mark Evans did do nicely. He did not ask who the man he would be showing around was, but perhaps he had picked up on the fact that Marshall did not want to explain. Whatever the reason, he offered the Chief Superintendent a friendly enough grin and beckoned him to follow.

Dickens mingled with the Constables first; they seemed to be largely inclined to believe that the young Chief Superintendent was actually either a citizen considering joining the force or a Rookie who had just joined the force. It was in Dickens' best interest to allow them to assume as much, so he did not bother to set them straight.

He did spare a moment to wonder if he really looked that young. He was admittedly young for his position, or at least, he had been told so on numerous occasions, but he knew his job well enough, and had eventually gained the grudging acceptance of those he worked with.

He shrugged it off as two Constables centered in on Evans and himself. "Been given tour duty again?" One of them asked Constable Evans. "You need to have one of the Inspectors put in a good word for you."

Evans shrugged in reply. "Who am I going to ask? I'm still in disgrace over that incident with Hopkins, you know. The Inspectors don't like it when one of their own nearly gets killed because of something one of the Constables has done."

The other of the two laughed. "They'll get over it." He assured Evans. "And they'll realize it wasn't your fault." He smiled at Dickens. "I'm Adams, by the way. That's Smith." The other man nodded.

"They've spent too much time with Lestrade." Evans offered. "They've picked up his habit of not offering a first name."

Smith rolled his eyes. "I'm Matt. That's Terry. We both prefer to use our last names." He said as Adams shot him a dark look. "Did you ever figure out what Lestrade's first name is, by the way?"

"It begins with a G." Evans offered. "That's all I've figured out."

Adams chuckled. "And that's all you ever will, Evans. You aren't special enough to know his first name." He joked.

Smith shook his head in amusement. "Better get a move on, Evans. You know nobody's actually interested in us Constables. He wants to see the Inspectors in their natural habitat."

"I like you two better when Inspector Lestrade's around." Evans grumbled. "You don't talk nearly as much." Catching Dickens' puzzled expression, he explained as he led the man away from the Constables. "Lestrade doesn't really care for conversation that doesn't pertain to the job. If you work with him you keep your mouth shut and do what you're told."

"Ah." Dickens commented as Evans peeked his head tentatively through an open doorway.

"Are you busy, Inspector?" Dickens was left standing in the hall as Evans inquired of the Inspector. He must have been beckoned in, because a second later the Constable gestured for Dickens to follow him inside the office.

"Showing him the ropes?" The Inspector asked, looking up from his paperwork. There was a twinkle in the man's eyes, and he had the sort of face that could break into a smile at any moment. He was also apparently not above 'chatting' with those of lower rank. "What do you think so far?"

This was directed at Dickens. He was not entirely certain how to reply. The Inspector smiled and shrugged. "Have a seat." He told them. "You'll figure out how you feel sooner or later, I'll wager." He paused for a moment, considering. "Of course, there are some things here I still don't know how I feel about." He admitted cheerfully. "I'm Bradstreet, by the way."

"Hopkins is fine." Inspector Bradstreet told Evans. "He's also trying to convince Jones and Gregson it wasn't your fault." Evans opened his mouth, and promptly closed it. Bradstreet answered the unasked question anyway. "Lestrade isn't here to be convinced. He's off today. He also probably already knows."

"What happened?" Dickens asked, and Evans winced.

Bradstreet shrugged. "I wasn't there, how should I know?" He lied amiably. "I just know that Hopkins told Jones to sod off this morning when he started grumbling about Evans here."

Evans relaxed, minutely, and Dickens made a note of the fact that this Inspector, at least, appeared to be protective of the people he worked with. Dickens had little doubt that this extended to all the Constables, and not just this one. He wondered if the other Inspectors were included in this.

He looked up as a strong looking, fair haired gentleman entered the Inspector's office without bothering to knock or announce himself, a cup of tea in each hand. He offered one to Bradstreet, who accepted it, and settled down in the chair Evans had vacated immediately upon the newcomer's arrival.

"Why are you bringing me tea?" Bradstreet inquired, a bit curious.

"Because I like you best." The other man retorted. "Hopkins and Jones are driving me insane." He admitted.

"They're still going at it?" Bradstreet asked, eyes widening. Evans reddened. "This is Inspector Gregson." He added, for Dickens' benefit. His next statement was for Gregson's. "Evans is showing him around."

"He's not with the press?" Gregson inquired lightly, as if he weren't bracing himself to make a run for the door. Dickens quickly shook his head.

Reassured, Gregson nodded to Dickens, then promptly proceeded to ignore him. "So Hopkins hasn't convinced Jones?" Bradstreet wanted to know.

"He thinks Hopkins is being too forgiving. So are you, for that matter." Gregson replied.

"Hmmm..." Bradstreet took a sip of his tea thoughtfully. "And what do you think?"

Gregson rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I think." He declared. "Lestrade doesn't think Evans is to blame for what happened, and he knows better than I do what went on."

"But you can't convince Jones of that." Bradstreet realized.

Gregson shook his head. "Lestrade can deal with that too." He declared. "Jones might actually listen to him."

"Lestrade will refuse to discuss the incident until someone brings it up in his presence." Bradstreet offered. "Then he'll let whoever brought it up have it."

There was a shout out in the hall, and Evans dashed for the door as if he had been shot. He disappeared from view without even a backwards glance at the man he was supposed to be showing around.

Gregson and Bradstreet went on drinking their tea as if nothing had happened.

Dickens cleared his throat. He had been silent long enough. Gregson turned to look at the Chief Superintendent. "He'll be back. Don't worry."

Bradstreet considered him briefly. "Of course, that leaves him in my office for who knows how long." He commented with a lack of any real concern.

"We could take him to see the fun." Gregson suggested. "He did come to see what goes on around here. Bradstreet grinned at the idea and stood.

"Come on, then." He said, heading for the door. Dickens followed, the other Inspector not far behind him.

The stopped right out in the hall just in time to see Evans jump back as someone shouted, "Watch yourself, he's armed!" Two heads popped out of offices further down that hall at that.

"I noticed that, sir!" The Constable replied, perhaps a trifle insubordinately, as he considered the nasty piece of work that was currently brandishing a knife at him. The Constable addressed his would be assailant. "You might as well give in." He told the man. "Even if you do manage to stab me, you had the bad luck to turn right down the Inspectors' hall, and you don't have a chance of getting past all of them."

"I took care of the one easily enough." The man grunted, swinging once more at Evans.

"Which will only get you into more trouble down here." Evans replied matter-of-factly. "Fortunately for you, the Inspector seems relatively unharmed." He said nodding to the figure that was approaching the escapee from behind.

The man turned, and swore at the approaching Inspector as Evans took advantage of his distraction and caught him in the back of the head with his truncheon. The man crumpled to the floor between Constable and Inspector.

The Inspector nodded briskly to Evans as the Constable darted forward to cuff the fallen man and claim the dropped knife. "Take him back to a cell." He grunted, relieving Evans of the weapon. Evans didn't bat an eye, but bent willingly to the task.

Bradstreet shook his head in amusement and stepped forward to help the Constable with his burden. The other Inspector looked uncomfortable as Bradstreet muttered something under his breath, but came to stand wearily beside Gregson.

"Aren't you off today?" Gregson inquired cheerfully. The smaller Inspector glared at him while he tried to catch his breath.

"Yes." Was all the man said. His reaction seemed to amuse the other Inspector.

"So was it Holmes, Hopkins, or Jones this time?" He wanted to know.

One of the spectators down the hall reacted to that. "I didn't call him out." The younger man declared as he left the safety of his office to join the group.

"This time." The other pointed out as he followed. The younger rolled his eyes at the clarification.

"So it was Holmes." Gregson said, but his companion shook his head. The action seemed to have some hidden meaning, for the four Inspectors were suddenly grim. Dickens was curious, but Gregson had apparently decided it was time to change the subject. "This is Dickens, by the way. Evans was showing him around before you commandeered him, Lestrade." Gregson turned to the Chief Superintendent. "This is Hopkins, Jones, and Lestrade." He indicated each of the men in turn.

Lestrade was staring. He turned to fix Gregson with a glare that was downright evil. "Do you know who that is?" He wanted to know.

Gregson hesitated, suddenly wary, and Dickens tried to recall if he had ever seen the smaller Inspector before. Both Hopkins and Jones wore suddenly closed expressions.

Lestrade barely managed not to groan. "Who was supposed to be paying us a visit today, Gregson?" He demanded, and Gregson did groan.

"Oh." He said, and Hopkins nearly choked. Jones simply scowled.

Lestrade shook his head in disbelief. Then he turned to address Dickens. "If you'll excuse me, Chief Superintendent." He said, offering the man a brisk nod. "Enjoy your visit."

The Inspector strode off without another word. None of those remaining seemed at all surprised by his actions.

"Was he bleeding?" Hopkins finally asked, when the man had disappeared.

"Probably." Gregson replied, turning his attention back to Dickens. "Do you want to wait for Evans to return, or is there much point, now that the cat's out of the bag?"

Dickens was not entirely certain how to answer that.


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