So…my sister and I have this headcanon that no one knows what Lestrade's division is. I mean, no one knows it anyway, but that's beside the point.

ANYhoo, we have this theory, and we love it. We'll occasionally make a reference in our made-up ramblings together about Lestrade wearing a fedora to work or having this massive gun tucked in the trunk of his car…but I don't want to give too much away before you read the story. :)

So let's get going then, shall we? I hope you enjoy!

God bless and have a great day (or night)!
ThePro-LifeCatholic

"I haven't seen him all morning."

Sherlock Holmes sighed with annoyance at Sergeant Sally Donovan's statement. Several other members of Scotland Yard were wandering around the crime scene, taking photographs of the evidence, dusting for fingerprints and such, asking the locals about the situation; in short, most of them were getting in Sherlock's way and being relatively useless.

It was DI Lestrade that Sherlock needed (wanted) to talk to. He was one of the few people who went along with Sherlock's many unique requirements, and didn't (usually) question his strange techniques, nor his incredible deductions. He was one of the very few, privileged human beings that came close to being a "friend" to the great consulting detective (but Sherlock's "one friend" list had already been filled, so Lestrade would have to stick with "very good acquaintance who I don't mock as much as almost everyone else").

"Did he talk about going anywhere? Any sudden change in his schedule?" It was John Watson talking now. The army doctor, the ever-faithful companion and one cherished friend of the detective, stood close by Sherlock Holmes. Sally shook her head.

"No, not that I'm aware of. Although…" she paused. "His vacation was scheduled for next week. It could've been possible that he got his weeks mixed up."

"Or simply wished to desert us earlier than usual," Sherlock piped up. "Typical Galen."

John and Sally shot each other a look.

"His name's Greg," Sally pointed out, pulling out her phone and beginning to stamp in Lestrade's number.

"Whatever." Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed again. John glared at his flat mate. How he managed to go from cold, calculating genius to whiny emo teenager (with no in between), John would never know.

Pushing the "call" button, Sally looked up to see that Sherlock already has his own phone up to his ear. Miffed, she hung up and shoved her own phone back into her coat pocket.

Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently, listening to the consecutive beeping on the other end of the line. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a familiar voice resounded through the cellular device.

"Hello? Who is this?"

Sherlock winced, pulling the phone back from his ear. Gr…Lestrade was nearly screaming into his phone.

"Lestrade?" he asked loudly, placing the phone against his head again.

"Yeah? Who is this? What do you want?" There was a lot of background noise going on wherever Lestrade was. Sherlock, purely from habit, began trying to deduce where the detective inspector could be.

"It's Sherlock, Lestrade. We're waiting at the scene of the crime; the one you talked to me about last night. Where are you?"

More noise.

"Sorry…couldn't make that out!" Lestrade's voice faded in and out. "D'you mind repeating that?"

Sally and John raised their eyebrows as Sherlock began yelling into the phone.

"OK, got it that time! I'm…uh…on vacation."

"That's next week!" Sherlock practically screamed into the phone. There was a long moment of silence, broken only by what sounded suspiciously like explosions and other background voices yelling. Sherlock could only catch a few words of the conversations.

"Watch…Karnfallas…extremely noxious…MY HAIR…"

"Next week? Darn it all!"

There was another pause. Sherlock's head was spinning.

"I'll…uh…I'll be in…uh…yeah. My office! I'll just be in my office!"

"Your office? This morning?" (Sally and John looked questioningly at each other) "But where are you?!"

"Sorry, Sherlock; gotta go." As Lestrade's rushed voice sounded through the phone, Sherlock could plainly hear a woman on the other end of the line:

"Honey, taking a phone call at a time like this? Karnfallas aren't going to kill themselves, you know!"

"I know that, Neffy! Just a moment!" Lestrade replied.

"Riddell! We need you now!" another, softer voice called.

Sherlock opened his mouth to ask another question, but the dial tone sounded loudly in his ear. It was several moments before he pulled the phone away and put it in his pocket.

"What was that about, then?" Sally wanted to know.

"Where was he?" John queried.

Sherlock shook his head. "No idea," he murmured. This statement evoked true surprise on the part of the army doctor and the sergeant.

"He said he'd be in his office," Sherlock continued.

"But he's not in his office, is he?" Sally asked.

"I highly doubt it," Sherlock assured her. "Only one thing for it, then." He turned to John. "We're getting a cab to Scotland Yard."

"You're welcome to join me in my ride," Sally pointed out one of the cop cars. "I should slap him for gettin' his dates wrong."

So the three rode in a somewhat awkward silence to Scotland Yard. John looked out the window, Sally kept her eyes on the road, and Sherlock sat motionless in the back seat, hands folded, lost in thought.

When they reached the building, it took all of their self restraint to keep from running through the hallways to Lestrade's office. Pausing outside the door, they all looked at each other. Then Sally nodded, Sherlock and John squared their shoulders, and they pushed open the doors.

Lestrade was sitting in his chair, legs crossed on his desk, munching a donut. A cup of hot coffee sat on the desk, within easy reach of his free hand. He looked up as the trio walked in.

"How's the case going?" he asked cheerfully.

Sally, John, and even Sherlock were rendered speechless. The office doors swung shut behind them, and they stood in mute confusion. Greg looked questioningly at each one.

"Something the matter?" he enquired. Sherlock opened his mouth several times, eyes scanning the room. His gaze landed on the trash bin in the corner (the rim of a hat peeked out at him from the bin), then shifted to the detective inspector.

"Uh…no. Not at all. We were…just…uh," he turned to Sally and John for assistance.

"Just checking up on you, sir," Sally put forward. "You were late to work, and left us hangin' at the crime scene."

"I know, that was completely on me." Greg looked truly apologetic. "It won't happen again, I promise."

There was no response. The three simply nodded dumbly.

"So…let me just finish this," Lestrade waved the donut in the air, "and I'll be right over, alright?"

"Oh…yeah. Yeah. That should work. I mean…that will work. Yeah." John blinked and stuttered. Without another word, the flustered trio took their leave. But Sherlock cast one look back, his gaze fixed on the spot underneath Greg's desk. He could see a strange object, but was having trouble identifying it. After a moment of intense staring, the detective ducked out of the room, closing the door. But he paused a moment longer, standing just outside the detective inspector's office. From within, he heard a phone being dialed.

"Coming, Sherlock?" John called to his flat mate from the other end of the building. Sherlock waited just long enough to hear the beginning of Greg's phone call:

"Hey, Neffy. Nice work back there. Haven't had too much excitement, have you? No? That's what I wanted to hear. What about the construction of the Great Wall? Now that's a sight worth seeing."

Sherlock rubbed his aching head, running to catch up with John Watson before Sally left without him.

I'm going to write a second chapter from Lestrade's point of view, but I hope you guys enjoy this first one! I think you guys will be able to figure out what's going on, but if you're having some trouble, here's a clue: "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship".

I'll see you around for chapter 2!