It was not unheard of for inspectors to take a liking to specific constables on the force and prefer to work with them whenever possible. It was also not unusual for a rookie, or transfer, to be unofficially assigned to an inspector until it was certain that they could handle themselves.

What was unusual was what Clarke had just been told to do, and so it was only natural that he hesitate. "Sir?" He asked.

Lestrade looked up, predictably annoyed. "You heard me, go down there and deal with it. I have a meeting with the superintendent."

Clarke mentally translated that last statement to I have to go get yelled at by the superintendent for not having solved this case yet, and decided not to argue. It would not have done any good anyway. Lestrade pretty much did things his own way, and not even the superintendent seemed to be able to change that.

Clarke went to check out the crime scene.

It was no wonder, he thought as he examined the area, that Lestrade often seemed frustrated with the constables at the Yard. This was certainly slipshod work here, and made an inspector's job that much harder.

Except now it was Clarke's job, and those at the scene were apparently just beginning to realize it.

"Lestrade not coming?" Simmons asked curiously as he approached his fellow constable. Clarke shook his head.

"What have we got?" He asked. Simmons sniggered, and Clarke sighed. "I'm just doing my job, same as you, Joel."

"Except I'm not Lestrade's favorite." Simmons pointed out. He shrugged. "Not that I'd want to be, of course. I saw him chew you out over that incident with the goose last week."

Clarke felt his face redden, but he managed a laugh anyway. "He doesn't hold on to things, though. He's probably forgotten the incident by now."

Simmons shot him a knowing look. "Inspector Lestrade never forgets anything. " He informed Clarke. Then he reconsidered. "Except how to pronounce anything with more than two syllables." He amended.

Clarke rolled his eyes at the old joke. "The crime scene?" He reminded the younger man.

"Sure." Simmons agreed amiably enough. "The girl was found here." He gestured to empty ground, and Clarke stifled a groan.

"You've already moved her." He said, trying to keep his tone light. Simmons shot him a suddenly alarmed glance out of the corner of his eye.

Clarke turned to face the other constable. "In the future," he suggested calmly, "leave the body undisturbed as much as possible, all right?"

Simmons nodded, and breathe a sigh of relief as he realized Clarke was not going to turn into Lestrade on him.

Clarke shook his head and turned his attention to getting what information he could from the already contaminated crime scene.


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