Significantly post-Rechenbach, or before, I suppose I am not entirely sure myself
Sherlock was pacing in the parlor as John read the newspaper on the couch. "Dammit" John sighed as he dramatically folded the newspaper. Sherlock paused for a second and looked over at John with his normal expression of mock curiosity, "What?" John crossed his arms in a mock brooding fashion. "I forgot to buy a lottery ticket yesterday, the numbers they picked were the same ones I always choose." He shook his head, "Just my luck." Sherlock went back to pacing, picking up a few objects from his desk that he began to focus on. As he leaned against the window he held the objects up the light and muttered, "I don't believe in luck." John picked up another section of the newspaper and said, "I know, I know, everything has a pattern to it, at best it's just a coincidence." He trailed off muttering, "But it is sure a lot easier to blame luck than my own stupidity." The doorbell rang, Sherlock set down the objects, but continued to stare at them. "That is precisely what the idea of it was invented for." entered leading Lestrade. "Visitor for you Shelock," she said quietly. Lestrade stood awkwardly in the doorway. John glanced up from his paper and said, "Hello Inspector, do you have another case?" Sherlock didn't look up, instead seemed completely engrossed in his task, he made way to the other side of the desk to sort through a chest of other mysterious objects. "You know Lestrade, it would probably save us both time if you called. That way I could tell you I am too busy without you coming all the way over here." Lestrade took a tentative step forward. "Look Sherlock I know I say this often, but I really mean it this time. We are completely stumped. We have tried ever other alternative." John set down his paper, glanced at Lestrade and then over to Sherlock. "Oh come on now Sherlock, right now you've only got the Trow case and last night you said you almost had that one solved." There was an awkward silence as Sherlock continues to sort through the chest. Lestrade broke the silence with a muffled cough. Sherlock stopped ruffling through the chest, and with a dramatic sigh we crossed the room, his coat flaring out. In one fluid movement he perched on the edge of one of the chairs, his hands clasped together and his mouth resting on his index fingers. "Alright what is this all about" he demanded. Lestrade moved quickly to sit in the chair across from Sherlock. "Originally we thought nothing of it, but there is a man that has been present at 10 perceived accidental deaths this month alone. The families of the victims have joined together to request that we investigate him. However upon inspecting the evidence further, everything points to them being accidents, not intentional murder." Sherlocks eyes narrowed slightly, "And your men are still convinced this man has something to do with these deaths?" "There just isn't any other way to explain it. He knew none of the victims personally. We are sure he must be a master at cover up his crimes. We need to know if his connected to any other deaths, and if he is planning anymore." Sherlock stood up again, turning his back to Lestrade as he stared out the window. "Do you know where he is currently located?" "No when sent out a warrant for his arrest, he disappeared." Sherlock closed his eyes for a second, then spun around suddenly, walking towards the door. "Alright we'll take the case. John, we're going to the morgue now." Sherlock paused at the door. "Do you have a list of the victims?" Lestrade nodded, standing up quickly. He handed him a sheet of paper. Sherlock scanned it, opened the door and took a brisk step outside.