Lestrade noisily unlocked the door to his office, his head still banging from the previous night. He set his briefcase down on his desk and gasped in fright to see that he was not alone.
"Anderson! What the Hell are you doing here?"
Anderson looked up from the computer screen. "Oh hey, Greggy." He smiled
"Greggy?" Lestrade replied in surprise. "I'm your bloody boss! It's Sir to you. Anyway, it's 7.30am, you're not supposed to be in until 9am? Sally finishes your floors early?" Lestrade smirked at his own wit. Anderson, however, decided to ignore the comment.
"Oh, you know, just checking my Twitter. I've got over 200 followers already!" he grinned, somewhat manically. Lestrade sighed and slumped down into his chair.
"Look, I don't care, OK? You're here to work, not to connect with your so called 'fan club'." He chuckled to himself and switched on his computer; his Twitter loaded up already. Anderson appeared behind him and peered over his shoulder.
"Oooh, look!" Lestrade jumped. "You have a DM!"
"A what?" replied Lestrade, his voice full of confusion.
"A DM…it stands for Direct Message" Anderson stated as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Look, click there." He pointed to the top right hand corner of Lestrade's computer screen. Silence blanketed the room as both men waited for the page to load…