"Freak's here," announced Donovan to the office in her usual groan. As was habit, Sherlock paid her no mind. Instead he briskly walked between her and Anderson, who was giving the detective the usual shake of his head. Of course, as always, they had no room to judge. Keen eyes were quick to observe the late night sleepover the two had shared. Anderson's wife seems to still not know. Pity.
But he hadn't the time to cut them down with his usual demeaning deduction. The young consultant was in a hurry. There was a fresh new murder mystery to be solved, and his mind was in desperate need of a puzzle. Upon entering Lestrade's office, he was greeted with a file thrust into his face.
"83 year old man found stabbed to death in his apartment. No witnesses. Found this morning by a family member paying him a routine visit," Lestrade explained, hands on resting on his hips as he looked Sherlock over. "No signs of forced entry. No suspects. No possible motives." Sighing, the inspector hung his head and lifted a hand to rub his temples. Throwing the same hand in the air, he shrugged his shoulders and returned his gaze to the younger Holmes brother.
It seemed that he hadn't slept in 48 hours. The bags under his eyes were dark and sunken, his clothes unchanged save for the tie which he suspected was recently removed due to stress. Opening the folder, Sherlock sped through reading over the case details; his blue eyes narrowing. "I'll give it a once over," he said, looking back up to Greg and handing him back the folder. "But only if you agree to not bring Anderson," he added with a slight perk of his brows.
"Wha- No, Sherlock," Lestrade griped, waving the request off. "Anderson is one of our best forensic officers. Can't do it, sorry."
Once Lestrade had turned his back to again look over the files, Sherlock seized the opportunity to reach out for his back pocket. With a gloved hand, he quickly swiped the leather bound wallet from Greg's pants and placed it into his own coat pocket. 'Really,' Sherlock thought with a roll of his eyes, 'this is becoming too easy'. When the inspector turned back around, Sherlock gave the biggest three second smile he could muster before he allowed his face resume it's usual phlegmatic expression. "Let's get going then," he suggested with a turn of his heel. Throwing open Lestrade's door, he strode back out the way he came, his mind already planning the return of annoyance the entire team was sure to inflict upon him.