The Inspectors at Scotland Yard had seen enough to be wary of outsiders, even if they were supposed to be fellow police officers and on the same side. They had worked with various other stations and other officials on enough occasions to be aware that most of the time cooperation between jurisdictions was something that the higher ups talked about but did not really believe in.
Bradstreet, Hopkins, and Jones stood quietly in a corner of the room, watching the man who had been allegedly brought in to 'assist' them with one of their cases. Hopkins kept his mouth tightly closed; he had still not completely recovered from the last outsider to come in and try to tell them how to do their jobs.
"This is Lestrade's fault again, I'll bet you anything." Jones grumbled under his breath. There was no denying that Lestrade had an alarming habit of already knowing most of the strangers that someone above sent their way, just as there was no ignoring the fact that such prior knowledge rarely made things easier on those involved.
Bradstreet shrugged. He usually tried to be cooperative and helpful during these trials, not that it often helped, but one look at this man suggested that any offered friendliness would be wasted.
The man who stood leaning against one of the farther walls from the Inspectors' corner looked as if he had been carved out of a block of wood and left to weather and turn grey. He was also tall and extremely thin.
He was old, and worn, but hard. In his youth, at least, the man had not been one to cross. Now-
He still carried himself as if he were not someone to cross.
The door opened, and Gregson entered the room. He raised an eyebrow as he caught sight of the man they would be working with, but said nothing.
"What?" Jones hissed as Gregson joined their corner. "What is it?"
Gregson shook his head. He looked somewhat uneasy. "I know him." He murmured, but would say nothing more, not even when Jones swore at him under his breath.
There was still Lestrade to show up, and the dark atmosphere in the room grew steadily worse as time passed and he did not show up.
Then the door opened, and Lestrade strode into the room. He frowned at the sight of the Inspectors huddled in the corner, then stopped as he caught sight of the man leaning against the wall.
Lestrade's jaw dropped. "What the devil are you doing here?" He demanded sharply.
The other man looked back at him, unfazed. "Still running yourself ragged, Lestrade?" He asked, straightening up. "I'm surprised you haven't burnt yourself out by now."
Lestrade scoffed. "I could say the same thing about you." He replied. The two men shook hands, and Lestrade turned to Gregson. "What are you lot doing?" He demanded.
"I think your boy is still afraid of me." The other suggested drily.
"You did threaten to send slice him to pieces and send him back to me in a box once." Lestrade reminded him almost cheerfully. "Did you actually introduce yourself to the others, or did you just stand there looking menacing?"
"He stood there looking menacing." Gregson offered. "I'm not his boy." He added, and the stranger turned his gaze on the blonde. For a minute Bradstreet fancied the other Inspector was considering ducking behind Lestrade for cover, but shoved away that idea as ridiculous.
Lestrade ignored Gregson's discomfort. "Jones, Hopkins, and Bradstreet." He named the three remaining Inspectors in turn.
"Inspector West." The stranger offered before Lestrade could, and Jones did not miss the surprised glance Gregson shot at this West fellow.
"We've worked together before." Lestrade offered the obligatory basis of his relationship with this man. There was more to it, there always was, but at least this time Lestrade did not seem to dislike the man they would be working with.
He did, however, turn to raise an eyebrow at West, who retaliated with a frightening grin and tossed Lestrade the file he had kept tucked under his arm. Lestrade caught it and opened it carefully, as if it might bite him.
West laughed, a short exhalation of air that made no actual sound. "Yes, this is big." He said. "Big enough that that file won't actually tell you much, Lestrade. I need someone I can trust." His eyes sought Lestrade's, his serious expression suddenly even more so. "I know Gregson, but what about the rest of these men?"
"I will vouch for them." Lestrade said quietly. West waited, and so Lestrade added, "I would trust them with my life, West."
West did not smile. "You may be about to." He said.
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.
