Prompt from sirensbane: Secret Santa.

Lestrade's Little Mystery

"Gregson?"

"Hmm? What is it, Lestrade?"

"Have you been finding anything unusual on your desk?"

Gregson looked up from his paperwork and narrowed his eyes at his colleague.

"Small packets, wrapped in paper," said Lestrade.

"I have not," Gregson said and leaned back in his chair. "What sort of packets? Anything to do with a case?"

Lestrade shook his head and glanced out into the hallway as if concerned they might be overheard.

"What are they, then?" asked Gregson.

"The first was a pair of crumpets with jam. A bit messy, but good."

"The first?"

"Yes. I thought it was one of the other inspectors bringing breakfast treats for everyone. You know how some do this time of year."

"Yes. Some nice confections last week. That was teatime, though. You say this package was left on your desk?"

"At the corner of my blotter. Thought nothing of it."

"And?"

"Well, there have been four more since."

"All crumpets?"

"No. The next was a muffin with slices of good ham on it. Very good ham. Another pair of crumpets, but with butter instead of jam. And this morning it was a stack of ginger biscuits."

"Sounds innocent enough to me." Gregson chuckled. "Why so worried, Lestrade?"

"Not worried, Gregson. Not that."

"What then?"

"Frankly, I am uncomfortable with it. I should like to know who is leaving these packets and why."

"For goodness sake. It's Christmas time, man! The spirit of giving and all that."

"I should also like to repay the kindness. It is a rather nice thing for someone to do. Being a bachelor I do not often enjoy baked goods aside from bread. It has been pleasant."

"You're blushing," Gregson said with an indulgent smirk.

"Am not. It's the heat. You keep your office much warmer than mine."

Gregson forced himself not to smile.

"So what do you think?" Lestrade asked, a sheepish expression on his face.

"You find these gifts when you arrive?"

"Yes. First thing in the morning."

"You arrive about the same time I do and there are rarely others before us." Gregson stroked his chin in thought. "Seems an odd sort of thing for a man to do."

"I agree." Lestrade looked out into the hallway again and stepped closer to Gregson's desk. "I was thinking it was a woman, but there are so few here."

"Aside from the typists in the front office, there are only the cleaning staff."

"You think it could be a typist?"

"I shouldn't think so. Maybe, but they do not arrive until eight."

"Well after we get here." It was Lestrade's turn to stroke his chin. "One of the cleaning staff, then."

"Yes."

"Which?"

Gregson chuckled, making an effort to keep the noise down.

"It isn't funny!" Lestrade said.

"It surely is!" Gregson countered. "Look, Lestrade, maybe one of the dears thinks you need some fattening up. You know how women are."

"I do not need to fatten up!"

"I am not saying you do. Only consider what a woman might take into her head."

Lestrade dropped his gaze and paced in front of Gregson's desk.

"It's possible, I suppose," he grudgingly said a minute later. "What do I do?"

"I don't know. What do you think you should do?"

"I thought to leave a note of thanks. Express my gratitude, you know? Only, what if this person, this woman, cannot read?"

"I see." Gregson nodded. That did make sense. Many working class folk never learned to read, being too busy earning a living. "If it actually is one of the cleaners, a small, practical gift might be a good alternative."

"Small and practical?" Lestrade narrowed his eyes in thought.

"And you could include a note with it. If she can't read, she can take it to someone who can."

"That's a very good idea," said the ferret-faced inspector. "What sort of small but practical gift do you think?"

"I don't know, but Lestrade, I have more than enough paperwork to complete today." Gregson indicated the stack of folders at the corner of his desk.

"Right! My apologies, Gregson. Thanks for your time."

A moment after Lestrade departed a slim, attractive young typist stepped into view just outside Gregson's door. Tow-headed and fine featured, she was on the tall side of average and her eyes sparked with interest.

"Yes, Eleanor?" he asked and smiled a knowing smile.

"Well?" she asked.

"He is curious."

"Tobias!"

"Hush! Come in here. Don't want everyone to know, do you?"

"If you were not my brother I think I would throttle you! What does he think?"

"It took him long enough to suss it, but I'd say your ginger biscuits and those crumpets are getting his attention in a good way. He liked the ham, as well."

"And?" she pressed.

"And I believe the ball is rolling and you must await developments. Now, do not be too long from your desk."

"You will let me know what develops?"

"That would be ungentlemanly."

She turned a gem hard glare upon him.

"All right. Very well, but only because you are my sister. Don't know what you see in him."

"What I…" Eleanor gaped at her older brother. "What I see in him is a man who is brave, intelligent and resourceful. I see a man with a future. On top of all that, Tobias, he is a man you cannot browbeat and intimidate, unlike the last three."

"I never did," he protested.

"Ha!" She snapped her fingers right in front of his nose, turned and strode out with the dignity of an affronted cat.

"Well," Gregson grumbled, "she could do worse."