Disclaimers: Not mine. I wish.
His phone beeped. Stretching in his chair, Lestrade checked the new MMS: "Jealous Sister. Harpoon. SH." and a photo of some body with the same wounds as the latest corpse they'd gotten. Sherlock had done it again. Lestrade dropped the phone over the desk, and started writing a report and filling in all the forms.
While he was half-way through the paperwork, his desk phone distracted him. Some man drenched in blood carrying a weird weapon had been seen trying to stop a cab. "He was tall, and covered in blood!" Explained a crazed witness "But no cabs would take him, so he took the tube." Lestrade thanked the girl and hung the phone. Would he ever get a single, paceful day? He put some newbie to track the madman, and continued filling the paperwork.
Not even five minutes later, the office was a cacophony of buzzing phones. Apparently, all of them were concerned citizens freaked over "a blood-covered psycho carrying a spear". It seemed like he wouldn't be able to wrap this case today. Then, a new mail appeared on his screen. "Mycroft" whispered Lestrade, smiling, and opened it to find a photo. Sherlock, drenched in blood, harpoon in hand, strolling through London. "Of course it had to be him", thought. "My lover's brother".
AN: I was harrassing a friend of mine to write what happened before Hounds, mainly because I was bored, but in the end I ended up writing something. First 221B. Good? Bad? Let me know!