Greg Lestrade knew, as soon as he realised that he'd overslept that morning, that it was going to be one hell of a day. In fact, he'd said as much to John Watson as the pair of them stood to one side at the crime scene, watching Sherlock do his stuff. John Watson had grinned. And Greg had wondered why that had made his hackles rise, and spine shiver, as if a goose had walked over his grave…..

Sherlock would normally have been oblivious to this by-play, but a subtle ribbon of heat sweeping across the floor from where John stood with his hands in his pockets, to the fireside, where he stood deducing the dead body in the armchair, made him glance over at his friend.

As their eyes met, he heard an echo of the conversation, and John quirked an eyebrow at him. Sherlock had to bite down on a choking laugh, as he suspected his flatmate's somewhat warped sense of humour was about to get the better of him.

In the corner of the room, Anderson had been fidgeting and grumbling to Donovan about amateurs getting the run of the crime scene. It was obvious to all that he was furious at being made to stand down. As his temper got the better of him, he stormed over to Lestrade.

"When are you going to throw that bloody freak out of here, Lestrade, and let the professionals do their job?"

Everyone in the room stopped talking and stared at him.

"What?" Anderson looked around, frowning.

One of the forensics team gave a little scream – not loud, just enough to attract attention to herself. Sally Donovan's mouth opened, but no sound came out, and Lestrade eyes nearly bugged out of his head as the irate forensics lead turned back once more to complain.

"Am I the only one to see what a joke he's making of all of us?" he ground out through clenched teeth. When no answer was forthcoming he turned, glared at the officers (and civilians) assembled, and stormed out of the room.

The silence that hung in the after his departure was broken by a comment of "Nice tail!" from one of the officers standing by the wall, and a ripple of muted laughter went around the room.

Greg stared at the door, and then looked at John.

"Did you hear what I heard?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Dunno" John's face was a picture of innocence "What did you hear?"

"Well… um… it sounded like…" Greg looked a bit embarrassed "Squeeeeee!"

This time Sherlock did laugh, but managed to cover it with a cough as he tried not to catch his friend's eye. The blond doctor maintained an air of innocence.

"Really?"

Lestrade swung round to the other officers.

"Well? Did you hear it?"

The forensics officer that had screamed looked a little uncomfortable as she admitted that yes, she too had heard squealing.

"B…but Sir," she added timorously "He had a snout…."

"You saw that too? Fuck!" Greg looked over at Sally "Donovan did you…"

"Sir" she nodded an affirmation

"And a tail" piped up the officer that had commented previously.

Greg looked stunned.

Sherlock walked out of the door, glancing at the Detective Inspector as he passed by.

"I'll text you with details, Lestrade."

"Yeah, Greg," John added "Looks like you're having one hell of a day already."

At least they waited until they got into the cab before dissolving into giggles.