Jones, Hopkins, and Bradstreet were all at the Yard bright and early the next morning, though none of them quite knew what to expect after the events of last night and Hopkins was not the only one to feel somewhat guilty about having left.

But Gregson had been deadly serious. He and Lestrade had both wanted them out of there, and Lestrade and Gregson rarely had any qualms about dragging members into Scotland Yard along into dangerous situations.

He had been afraid as well, which left Hopkins to wonder if the two men were even still alive this morning.

"What are you going to do with a bloody cleaver?" The jumped as they heard the demand echo through the hall. Hopkins' eyes widened as he recognized Lestrade's voice; he sounded tired, and irritated, but also somewhat relieved.

"Take it to your good friend West." Came the equally irate reply from Gregson. "I hate him. And I am not your boy." Now that they knew that both men were definitely alive, the thought of Gregson being Lestrade's boy struck Bradstreet as more than a little humorous. Not that he would ever let Gregson know he thought so.

"You never complained when Adams called you that." They heard Lestrade point out, a bit amused himself.

The three Inspectors exchanged a glance and darted in the direction of the voices.

"Adams wasn't a bloody mental case! What are you laughing about?"

"Nothing. I wasn't laughing. I'm still coughing up blood, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I'm sending for the doctor." Gregson's tone was sharp.

"I don't-"

"Or your wife."

They heard the submissive growl and turned the corner to find Gregson's office door open, and he and Lestrade seated on either side of his desk arguing over top of a rather large, stained cleaver that was resting on top of said desk. Both of the Inspectors were a mess, and the sight of the cleaver was enough to send shivers down the spines of all three men.

"I can't believe you shoved West down the stairs." Lestrade grumbled halfheartedly. He was holding his side with his left arm and looked rather uncomfortable where he sat.

"I told him not to use you as bait anymore." Gregson retorted. "He's lucky I'm so easygoing."

"Easygoing?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"I put up with you." Gregson pointed out. "Hopkins, send for Dr. Watson, would you?" I think Lestrade's broken a couple of ribs."

Hopkins jumped as if he had been shot. Neither Gregson nor Lestrade had seemed aware of the men gathered in the doorway.

Hopkins nodded, grinned at the two Inspectors who were both still alive, tried to pretend he hadn't, and took off. Jones shook his head at the lad.

"I see you two managed not to get yourselves killed." Was all he said before he left. Whatever the two had been through the night before,they were dealing with it in their own peculiar way. Lestrade had also donned the familiar expression that suggested that a person would mind his own business if he knew what was good for him, and Jones knew quite well what was good for him.

The two seated Inspectors turned their attention to Bradstreet, who smiled and shrugged. "Glad to see you both alive." He offered before he too left the two to themselves. As he left, he heard Gregson turn back to Lestrade.

"Easygoing or not, if I ever see him again, I will kill him."


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