It was some six months before the subject of dresses came up again. Cases that demanded that particular kind of undercover work were, after all, few and far between. There were a much greater number that would be expedited with a pretty face in a frock, but simple expedience was not enough to force a man of the Yard to humiliate himself thusly.
A mangled body, two ransom letters, and a still-missing girl seemed to do the trick, though, as Hopkins had marched straight into Lestrade's office and announced, apropos of nothing, "Alright. I'll do it."
Lestrade blinked at him, tried to figure out what, if anything, he'd proposed to the lad in recent memory, and came up empty-handed. "What?" He replied smartly.
Hopkins grit his teeth in irritation, but backpedaled anyway. "The case today, you said it fit with a series of them you'd been investigating." Lestrade nodded. Yes, it fit perfectly with a case that had been open for years - kidnappings, mostly of young debutants or heirs, that turned ugly if their parents or beaus didn't turn up the ransom and were almost never reported otherwise. Very professionally done. "You told me about your prime suspect, Vance Arkwright, and how you couldn't get close to him to get the evidence you needed. You even told me about the bloody gala he's throwing on Thursday. Well, I'm volunteering - I'll go in and I'll find all the evidence you need to get this bounder, and to find miss McKinnett."
"Hopkins, while I appreciate your enthusiasm, we've tried undercover. We can't get close to him."
"That's because you were all men." Hopkins gave him a moment to fully absorb that information before he continued. "I may not fit his usual profile, but I'll manage something, and I'll find miss McKinnett at the least. I can swear to that."
Lestrade nodded slowly. "Are you sure about this?"
"Absolutely," said Hopkins without hesitation. "I have one condition. You let me carry your gun."
"Agreed," said Lestrade just as quickly.