I am not in the best of moods. I have had not one interesting case in the last three months and I am bored to death. I need a good case badly - desperately. When I am roused from a medically-induced slumber (even John the compudroid has agreed that I need something to help me to rest when I am between cases of late) I expect it to be of import - not an invitation to a wretched party that is to be attended by wretched Yarders!

"Really Lestrade! I have rather more important and urgent things to do than to attend parties."

Her image on the screen before me frowns for a moment and then smirks. "Yeah, obviously. That's why you're still in bed at nine thirty and why you've been put on medication to help you sleep."

I gape at her. How could she possibly know that?

She continues to smirk at me. "Watson 'n' Chelsea are going," she informs me.

"That surprises me not at all; Chelsea likes to dance."

"Watson said that you'd go too, if I told you what it's for."

I sigh wearily and gesture for her to tell me all in an impatient manner. I am not in the mood for her games.

"It's a charity ball to raise money for sick 'n' disabled kids," she informs me. "Particularly terminally ill kids."

My expression must say it all, because she nods and gives me a sympathetic smile.

"So you'll come?"

I shrug with my hands. "How can I not? But a ball, you say? Do you mean a ball of the sort that I might have had in my own era?"

She grimaces and scratches her nose. "I don't really know Sherlock. It's a charity event and Grayson wants the press there, so we're expected to dress up - not that I'd have to tell you to wear something extravagant o' course... What? What's so zedding funny?"

My mouth is twitching ever so slightly at the corners and I am shaking with silent laughter.

"What is it Holmes?" Beth repeats impatiently.

I shake my head and press a finger to my lips in an attempt to bring myself under control. "McGregor," I chuckle softly. "I have never seen him in anything besides his uniform or those hideous blue denim trousers with the holes in that he is so fond of."

I am actually laughing at the thought of seeing Lestrade out of uniform, for she has even attended a wedding in that outfit. I am beginning to suspect that she owns nothing else.

"Yeah, well, he's gonna have to make an effort like everyone else."

I nod and calm myself. "Yes. Indeed he will."

"Well, I have to go," she announces with regret. "I'll call you if anything interesting comes in. Wanna meet up this evening for a pizza or something, if you don't get called in?"

I agree readily enough and then drag myself back to bed. It is no good; I am wakeful now and find myself staring up at the ceiling, wondering what Lestrade might wear to this ball. I am also surprised to find that I am nervous - more so than I ever was in my own era - and not because McGregor and his little group of friends are going to be there either.

A sudden thought occurs to me as I get up to begin my morning routine, but my idea will all depend upon whether or not the press is to be present all the evening or not. I might just provide McGregor and his gang with something to gossip about.