Melissa Bradstreet paused on the step and took a deep breath to steady herself. Squaring her shoulders back and trying to school her expression into something much calmer than she currently felt, the woman made her way up the remaining stairs and entered the building before her.
She knew this was not a good idea, but she was panicking at the news she had received less than an hour ago. Never had she needed her husband's large, reassuring presence so desperately in her life.
"Miss?" One of the Constables approached cautiously, his eyes darting back and forth between the woman and the child she currently carried in a way that might, at any other time, have been comical.
Sophie squirmed, and Melissa struggled to hold her. The girl was really too big to be held like this, at least by anyone other than her father, but she had unfortunately caught on to her mother's mood and been nearly inconsolable until the woman had finally given up trying to calm her and picked her up.
"Can I help you, Miss?" The Constable's voice was kind. Melissa tried to pull herself together.
"I'm looking for Inspector Bradstreet," she said, her voice trembling more than she liked. Her chest knotted up as the Constable hesitated, clearly reluctant to deliver bad news to the already distraught woman before him.
"The Inspector's not here at the moment, I'm afraid, Miss." He looked around helplessly for a moment. "Do you need to see him specifically, or would another Inspector do?"
Melissa struggled to breathe and was certain she was going to cause a scene in front of the entirety of Scotland Yard. The Constable's eyes widened in alarm.
"Evans," another Constable had joined them, perhaps to see what he could do to help with the over-emotional woman standing there with a child cringing against her in the face of too many people rushing about.
The new man turned and nodded. "Mrs. Bradstreet," he greeted her deferentially and in spite of her current situation and the woman tried to remember where she had met him before. Certainly not at the Yard itself. It was, perhaps, the first time the woman had ventured down here in all their years of marriage.
"What can I do to help, Mrs. Bradstreet?" This second Constable was every bit as kind as the first one was, and for a moment Melissa hated herself for eliciting such a response.
"She's looking for Inspector Bradstreet." The first Constable, Evans, offered. "I told her he was out."
"He's working a case, Mrs. Bradstreet." The second man's voice was gentle, as if he were handling something fragile, breakable.
Maybe she was. She certainly felt it today.
"What are you two doing standing around when-" Melissa recognized Inspector Gregson at the same time he recognized her. "Mrs. Bradstreet," he greeted her almost formally. His eyes looked her over from her head to her toes and the man made a decision.
Turning to snap at the Constables he ordered, "Pot of tea in my office. I don't care which one of you brings it."
"Yes, sir." They chimed almost in unison and were gone in the next moment.
Gregson turned his attention back to woman and child. "May I escort you to my office?" He asked, his voice smooth. If he felt anything for the woman other than perhaps an obligation to the wife of one of his colleagues, it did not show.
Melissa nodded and followed the man. Better to lose her composure in front of one Inspector than in front of the entire Yard. At least her husband's reputation would not be completely ruined.
Gregson did not immediately press her for information, instead waving her to a seat and taking his own. Melissa sat, maneuvering Sophie into a more manageable position while the girl tried desperately to hide her face in her mother's shoulder. Only once she was settled did the Inspector speak again.
"Is there something I can do for you, Mrs. Bradstreet?" He asked, and his tone, while not comforting, was not impatient.
Melissa was familiar with most of the Inspectors. She had met Lestrade more than a few times; she was not sure that he and her husband were friends, exactly, but there was some sort of camaraderie there. Hopkins she was most familiar with, as he seemed to almost seek Roger out at times. Certainly her husband lent balance to the other man's a times easy excitability.
What she knew of Gregson left her surprised that the man had taken the time out of his day to notice her, let alone offer to help. She wondered again if it were only because he and her husband worked together. The men at Scotland Yard seemed to feel some sort of obligation towards each other even if they did not particularly like the men they worked with.
She hesitated to impose on him, but was honestly past the point of knowing what else to do. Her shoulders slumped. Trying to compose herself enough to get through the reason for her presence, she looked up at the blonde man.
"I just received word. My father is ill." She paused as Constable Evans from earlier appeared in the door with a cup of tea. Accepting it gratefully if somewhat awkwardly-Sophie had yet to allow herself to be set down-she thanked the Constable with what little energy she could muster and turned her attention back to the Inspector.
Gregson made an odd gesture, and the Constable lingered in the doorway. "Please, continue."
"It came on so suddenly." She explained quickly, suddenly out of breath. "He's at St. Bart's, but they don't know what's wrong, or even how long he has. He might-" she sniffed, "he may not make it through the day. "I was hoping-I hoped..." she trailed off. It was absurd to expect Roger to be able to take Sophie, not when he was working, but she had hoped.
Gregson looked down at his desk for a moment after she finished. Reaching for a piece of paper, he quickly scribbled a note. "Evans,"
The Constable stepped inside and took the paper held out to him by the Inspector. "See that gets straight to Doctor Watson." He ordered, and the Constable nodded and disappeared.
Gregson stood and looked the woman over. "I've had enough paperwork today to last me for the rest of the year," he told her with strange familiarity. "I would be more than willing to escort you to St. Bart's, Mrs. Bradstreet."
Melissa stared at him almost dazedly. It was more than she could have hoped for-certainly more than she had expected after realizing Roger was gone. Gregson looked slightly bored even as he waited for her reply, but suddenly the woman wondered if it were simply an act.
She started to rise, then remembered her daughter. "I appreciate that, Inspector," she said, her chest constricting once more. "I really do. But I can't take Sophie with me, and I have no one else to watch her."
Sometimes it was lonely, being married to a Yarder.
Gregson briefly looked down at the girl who was still trying to hide from him. He mercifully did not ask why Melissa would not take her daughter there.
"All right, then," he said with a shrug. Smiling in a way that was not entirely reassuring, he held his hand out toward the door as if to guide her toward through it anyway. "This way, if you please, Mrs. Bradstreet."
She stood and allowed him to lead her out of his office and into the hall. Once there, she waited as he ducked his head into another office.
"Oh, good, you're still here." Inspector Gregson noted with exaggerated cheer.
"Where else would I be?" came the peevish response. Melissa recognized the voice immediately, though she was not accustomed to the animosity behind it. She did not catch the continued muttered reply, but suspected the other Inspector did. His smirk widened to a grin.
"I'm stepping out of the office. Mrs. Bradstreet needs an escort to St. Bart's-no, it isn't Bradstreet. Her father took ill this morning."
A pause. Something Melissa could not quite make out, but it made Gregson laugh.
"She's got her daughter here with her, Lestrade. Can't take her in with her and needs someone to watch her." Melissa felt her face redden in embarrassment as she realized what the other Inspector was doing. She spluttered, trying to protest, but Gregson ignored her. "You aren't terribly busy today-no open cases, for once." He pointed out reasonably. "And Mrs. Bradstreet already knows you."
Gregson stepped out into the hallway, and Inspector Lestrade himself followed suit, scowling at the taller man. He caught sight of Melissa, however, and the expression vanished immediately.
"My condolences, Mrs. Bradstreet," he said politely. At any other time Melissa would have found the abrupt change in demeanor interesting. At the moment, however, she could only manage being overwhelmed and not quite humiliated at the thought of being escorted by one Inspector while another watched her child.
Speaking of, Sophie had risked stealing a glance at the new voice. Melissa doubted she recognized Lestrade-the two had not crossed paths more than once or twice, during which Sophie had ignored him and he had been content to do the same.
Now he regarded her solemnly, dark eyes intent, and the girl stared back at him wordlessly. "Sophie, is it?" he asked, in a tone of voice Melissa had never heard from the man before. "Nice to meet you. I've got a daughter about your age."
Sophie did not immediately go back to hiding, but Melissa still felt reluctant to hand her daughter off. Child of his own or not, she had no idea how the man would handle Sophie-or how she would react to being left with him.
Lestrade held out his hands to the girl and waited patiently as she eyed them skeptically, not quite backing away but not yet accepting the invitation either. Melissa watched in fascination as the two studied each other for a long moment.
Then Sophie leaned forward, and Lestrade plucked her out of Melissa's arms with all the ease and grace of a man well practiced in scooping up children. He set her on his hip as if unaware of either her weight or the current spectacle the two of them made together.
"Come on, Sophie," he said to the girl, a smile appearing on his usually stern face just for her. "I'm pretty sure I've got chalk and chalkboard in here somewhere."
"She'll be fine," Gregson assured Sophie's mother when she hesitated in the hall. "He's got three little ones of his own, Mrs. Bradstreet. He's more than capable of handling your daughter until her father gets back."
"I see that," Melissa agreed, still a little worried.
