Hamburgers Are Proper Food, Detective
By nine Lestrade could no longer ignore the aching in his gut. He'd had three cups of the delicious coffee in the space of an hour and was buzzing nicely. It made his hunger all the more obvious and he stood stretching, back cracking as he left his office.
He went to Donovan first, she always had some type of sandwich or packet of crisps left over. But it was a no go; she was all out of snacks. He frowned and went to Dimmock, who was tapping away at his computer like a man on crack. The coffee was really good. Unfortunately the younger DI had nothing to eat and Greg groaned.
He had no cash on him for the machines and cursed; he couldn't even bloody order takeout.
'I need some proper food!' he shouted at the Yard. He earned a few raised eyebrows and blushed lightly as he went back to his office.
Greg froze in his doorway as the aroma of food hit him. He groaned softly and approached his desk, noting the white takeaway bag with a gold bow tied around the top. It seemed Greg's mystery person had struck again.
He pulled off the note as he opened the bag, spying a large hamburger, two boxes of hot chips and a box of chicken nuggets.
Hamburgers are proper food, Detective.
Lestrade was grinning now and he was so hungry he didn't care if the food was poisoned. As long as it tasted good. Besides, surely there were easier ways to kill him. Moriarty had been taken care of so he wasn't responsible and even Sherlock wouldn't kill his main source of cases.
He fell into his chair and ripped into the burger, savouring the meat and sauce and God, everything was so great. He shoved chips into his mouth before downing some more coffee.
God bless his mystery note-leaver.