"Lestrade's making hot chocolate." Hopkins burst into Gregson's office with a complete disregard for any and all forms of propriety or even common courtesy, his eyes gleaming.

Gregson looked up from his conversation with Holmes and Dr. Watson. Far from being irritated by the interruption, the Inspector actually looked interested. "Why?" He asked cautiously. If Lestrade were making hot chocolate, it was entirely possible someone was on the verge of death.

"Jones fell into the river." Hopkins replied with a shiver. "Bradstreet went after the man that shoved him and ended up going in after him."

Gregson considered the snow that was still being dumped on the city outside his window. "They get him?" He asked, considering the two other men in his office.

"Lestrade got him while he was dunking Bradstreet." Hopkins answered, and Gregson made up his mind as the lad decided he had wasted enough time and took off without bothering to excuse himself.

"Come on," Gregson said, raising out of his seat and heading for the door.

"Where are we going?" Holmes inquired as he and Watson were left with no choice but to follow the Inspector if they wished to continue their conversation.

"You heard Hopkins," Gregson said as briskly as if he were still discussing a case, "Lestrade's making hot chocolate."

"And?" Holmes pressed.

"And the only thing better than Lestrade's hot chocolate is when Jones makes eggnog, which has only happened twice that I recall." Gregson explained as if it were obvious. "And," he continued as they reached the small, makeshift kitchen that really was not good for much more than boiling water, "Lestrade knows better than to not make extra."

If there had been any doubt in Watson's mind about the existence of a hot drink that could draw even the Inspectors of Scotland Yard away from their duty, it vanished with that first sip. Even Holmes made no complaint over being distracted from the case.


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