Disclaimer: I do not own the poor policemen at Scotland Yard. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Dedicated to ZCR, my best friend
"Why am I having a bad feeling about this day?" It seems that we are about to get into trouble." Inspector Bradstreet asked Inspector Lestrade as they stepped inside their offices. They were immediately ambushed by two pies, each hitting them on the face.
"Who did this?" Lestrade roared. A frightened constable went up to him, wiping the last part of the pie thrown on his face.
"We don't know sir. It seems that every bloke on the job has had pie thrown on his face. Yet no one had slipped inside the Yard." He said trembling before the senior inspector. It was going to be the first of many pranks.
Nor the last, either.
"Well done, Mr. Johnson. You have done well with the pies." the Master complimented the bakery owner. He smiled and left the room. He went to his desk and wrote:
Day 1
It went well. They do not know that it was me. I shall get my revenge on Lestrade first
