“May I remind you, ladies and gentlemen, that the river can be very dangerous, especially at this time of year, with the particularly high tides. I shall therefore be insisting on the highest standards of safety, and if anyone wishes to ignore them, they can stay on the land.”

Inspector Stanley Hopkins looked round at the assembled company before him, glaring at Sherlock Holmes in particular, but it was also clear that his icy look included a few of the younger and more enthusiastic detectives Greg Lestrade had brought with him.

Hopkins’ sergeant then handed out lifejackets and assisted those who were struggling slightly to put them on.

As they walked down to the jetty, two of the DCs laughed at their newest member, who had been one of those needing help.

Hopkins strode over. “Tighten your lifejackets up. If they are not sufficiently tight, as soon as you hit the water, they will come straight off and be of no use whatsoever.”

One of the DCs grimaced but did as he had been told. The other made a pretence of doing so and continued walking.

Hopkins looked at him and pointed. “You, go back to the office, now!”

The DC turned to Lestrade. “But, sir!”

“You received an order, Yeomans, you will follow it,” Lestrade snapped. And once Yeomans was out of earshot, he muttered, “Because if you lose that life jacket, we’ll be charged by River Police for a replacement.”

Hopkins grinned.

When they reached the boats, Lestrade turned to face his assembled officers. “While we are on the river, and in all respects concerning boats, Inspector Hopkins is your commanding officer. I trust this is clear.” He was satisfied at the nods and murmurs of agreement.

They set off, Sherlock talking nineteen to the dozen, Stanley Hopkins ignoring him. The small boats fanned out, and as soon as they received notification the last one was in place, Lestrade gave the order to proceed.

Each boat headed to the river bank, to a point which they had been designated earlier, while, at the same time, police cars and vans approached from the land side, blue lights flashing.

John Watson, who was also travelling in Hopkins boat with Sherlock and Lestrade, watched as a number of people emerged from buildings close by, some heading towards the river, others running away, hoping to evade the police they’d seen arrive by road.
“Put me on shore!” Sherlock ordered.

“One, it’s too dangerous to land here,” Hopkins replied, “and two, by leaving our position we jeopardise our part of the operation. So, no!”

“Stanley,” Sherlock pleaded.

John noted Lestrade’s two officers who were with them looking towards Hopkins, clearly expecting him to let Sherlock have his way. John wasn’t worried, despite the relationship between Sherlock and Hopkins, the inspector would never let anything interfere with what he was doing, especially if it were to compromise safety.

Sherlock subsided, but continued to fume and mutter to himself, saying none of it would be worthwhile if they lost Hyde-Pearce.

“Sir,” one of Hopkins’ officers called, “they’re launching their boat.”

“Proceed to intercept,” Hopkins replied.

The vessel turned and its blue lights came on. Seeing this, the other boat opened its throttle, thinking to power away, and in so doing caused a large wash, which swamped the second boat which had been moored beside it. There was a yell, and John saw a man who had been in the second boat, preparing to start it, grab hold of the planks at the end of the short jetty and haul himself up.

Meanwhile, the first boat, in its hurry to get away, had failed to make allowance for the incoming tide, and managed to drive itself into the weeds slightly further along the bank, where it was stuck fast.

A large man, accompanied by two others, who looked like bodyguards, ran onto the jetty.

“Get me a boat!” he ordered.

One of the bodyguards lay down on the jetty and tried to rescue the second boat, which seemed to have become wedged underneath the jetty. He called his companion, who came to help him pull the boat out. As they heaved there was a loud creak, and the end of the jetty collapsed into the water, taking both bodyguards with it.

The large man turned and made to leave the jetty again, but by this time some of the police officers from the land approach had arrived and he was forced to surrender.

Uniformed officers soon had all those present rounded up and escorted them to the vehicles to be taken into custody.

“Good,” said Sherlock. “Let’s get back then.”

“We’ll go back when I’m ready,” Hopkins said. “Which will be when I know all my team are safe and returning to base.”

Hopkins’ radio crackled. “Have you got the doc with you?” a voice asked.

“Affirmative,” Hopkins replied.

“Team Foxtrot here. Could you bring him over. We’ve sent for an ambulance, but…”

“On our way!”

The boat headed into the river, and, with blue lights flashing, sped off. John, who had travelled at speed with Hopkins before, instantly grabbed the rail, and grinned at the startled expressions on Lestrade’s officers’ faces, one of them putting a hand on their life jacket as if to confirm they’d be safe.

Reaching their destination, John was helped onto shore and followed the officer to where he was needed. He wondered whether Sherlock would demand to leave as well, but it seemed otherwise. Hopkins, meanwhile, spoke to the sergeant in charge, and once satisfied all was under control said they would head back to base.

Hopkins’ boat returned at a more sedate pace and, as they travelled, Hopkins, Lestrade and Sherlock discussed the case.

Once they had all landed, Hopkins disappeared off towards his office, Sherlock went to find a taxi to take him back to Baker Street and Lestrade dismissed his own men. The last thing Hopkins heard was Lestrade saying, “I trust you now all understand why Inspector Hopkins is so adamant about the need for safety,” followed by various sounds of fervent acknowledgement.