A/Ns: So this little brainchild came from a sweet and innocent Dingo. I'm sorry, that's a lie. She's neither sweet nor innocent. She is one of my best friends, though, so when she was having a rough day, I offered to write a short little smut scene with the pairing of her choosing.

Needless to say, that short little smut scene turned into a three part fic, that's all ready 15pages long in MSWord.

Her choice on the pairing has given this...thing a chance to grow up into some real plot and stomp through my brain for an innumerable amount of days.

Unbeta'd currently. When finished I'll try to get my beta to give it a look see. Also, I'm not British so forgive the American terminology. I'm only human.

"I hate working with locals," Clint grumbles, and jumps back from the tidal wave a passing double-decker bus caused.

"Yes, but to be honest, I owe the Detective Inspector who's in charge a favor and you were closest to London," Coulson says, probably comfy where ever he is, not dragging himself through London weather.

Adjusting his bags, Clint winces as rain gets down his collar, soaking his t-shirt underneath the so-called 'weather-proof' jacket R&D had given him. Yeah, he thinks, they are so getting a strongly worded letter. Attached to an arrow.

"So why aren't you here helping your friend out?" the archer asks, dodging a taxi cab as he makes his way across the street, water splashing under his boots.

"I can't," Coulson sighs. "I still have Romanoff in Beirut and Vaughan in Tokyo. DI Lestrade needs help now."

"You do remember I have been hunted down by New Scotland Yard before, yes?"

"It's okay Clint. You've been off Interpol's list for a long time. You're an agent of SHIELD now, you do remember that don't you?"

"If I say no, do I have to file my paperwork for the Berlin mission?"

"Your paperwork is 3 months behind!" Coulson barks. After a moment, he sighs. "Yes, you have to file your paperwork for Berlin. Yes, it can wait until you're back on the Helicarrier. No, I will not wait any longer. Try to not do anything illegal."

"How illegal is illegal?"

"Don't get yourself killed, Agent Barton."

"Aw, I'll miss you too, Coulson," Clint cooed, grinning until he hears a distinct click. "Wait, Coulson? Coulson?"

Sighing, Clint shoves his phone in his pocket and look up at the New Scotland Yard building and curses the day he met Phil Coulson.

~

Getting inside is easy enough, Clint may actually hold onto the nifty 'SHIELD Agent' badge that Coulson had sent him. A small Coulson-like voice that says he had been given five badges in the past and that Clint keeps losing them or lighting them on fire or once used it to choke a ravenous tiger that had been trying to eat him and Agent Vaughan at the time. Barton ignores that voice as usual.

He's looking around the inside of NSY for a moment when a young man moves in front of him.

"Hello, are you lost?" he asks.

"I'm looking for Detective Inspector Lestrade," Clint glances around. "Do you know where he might be?"

"Oh, Lestrade, yes. I'm Detective Inspector Dimmock," he says, smiling and extending a hand.

Switching his bow case to his other hand, Clint extends a hand. "Agent Clint Barton, SHIELD."

"Oh? Agent? Are you consulting?"

"I'm here as a favor," Clint says smiling. "Is Lestrade close?" He hikes the duffle bag up higher.

"Right this way, I'll escort you up."

"Thanks," Clint says and follows Dimmock to the lift.

~

"Lestrade?" Dimmock asks, opening the door to his friend's office. He smiles back to Agent Barton.

"Sherlock, I have been told, no, threatened by John with what will happen if I give you case details while you are on your honeymoon!" Lestrade scolds, running a hand through his hair, knowing somehow this will probably add greys.

"You have a visitor," Dimmock says, then motions for the agent to come inside.

"No, no, no, do not call Mycroft. He is on the first vacation with Anthea in three years and they will kill you if you disturb them," Lestrade shouts, he waves at Dimmock hoping the other DI will take the hint that he's busy.

"Just wait for him to get off the phone, hope you enjoy you're stay, Agent Barton," Dimmock says, shaking the blond's hand again.

"Thanks for the escort in," Clint replies. The archer misses the way Dimmock's eyes stray over his body on the way out the door. Clint drops his case and bag on the floor before unzipping his jacket and shaking it a bit. With some luck he might be dried out by the time he has to get on a plane again.

"Oh please! I did not organize an interesting case just because I knew you would be out of the country!" Lestrade glances over, seeing the blond man in his office for the first time, and startles.

"Sherlock, I've got to go," he says, standing.

"Then go shag your husband! I'm not incurring John's wrath because something interesting happened here and not in Italy!" Lestrade snaps, before slamming the phone down.

"Troubles in paradise?" Clint asks, turning from his examination of awards on the Dectective Inspector's bookshelf.

"Actually, it's a lack of trouble that is causing problems," Lestrade grumbles, before coming around from his desk and extending his hand.

"Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade, at your service," he says.

"Actually I'm at yours. Agent Clint Barton, SHIELD," Clint answers, taking the DI's hand. He refuses to note how nice the Inspector's hand feels in his own. It's a surprise, but Clint carefully doesn't let it show.

"Oh, yes. Philip told me that he was sending someone, but he didn't mention it would be someone so..." Lestrade glances down Clint's body, noting the build of the man in front of him.

"Sexy?" Clint asks, smirking.

"Young," Greg counters.

"I'm not jailbait, Detective Inspector. Trust me," Clint purrs out the last words, enjoying the way the Inspector's hand tightens in response, like it's trying to keep the archer close. Grinning, Clint winks then pulls his hand free and wanders around the DI.

Lestrade takes a moment to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He watches Agent Barton move around the office, taking a quick peak out the window, before moving back around the desk to the duffle bag and long case.

"So this is what an office looks like," Clint says, "where would your crime scenes be?"

"Um, wouldn't you like to get settled in before I take you there? I've booked a reservation at the-"

"Things you should probably know, Detective Inspector. One, I don't sleep at hotels or motels. Two, I didn't come here to settle, I came to find a sniper. Three, I'm not much for slow-paced. If people have died then I assume there is a sense of urgency at hand, yes?"

"Come with me," Gregory states, grabbing the keys off his desk. "You can leave your stuff."

"I'll bring it with me, thanks," Clint supplies, hiking his bag back over his shoulder and picking up the case.

"Suit yourself," Lestrade said, leading the way out of the office. He took them down a row of cubicles, before stopping at an elevator. Sighing, Clint took a look around, noting the many looks he was getting from a woman several cubicles back.

"Ignore her," Greg says, pushing the down button again.

"Is there a reason she's looking at us like we've just killed her brother?" Barton asks, shifting the weight of his case.

"It's not you. It's me. Just ignore her," Lestrade says, before eyeing the case.

"Can I carry that for you?" he asks, extending a hand slightly, and raising his gaze to Clint's.

Smirking, Clint shakes his head. "I'm tougher than I look, too." He smirks and enters the lift as the door part.

Grinning, Lestrade enters to the left before turning and jabbing a button. "That's good to know, Agent Barton. That's very good to know."