Chapter 11

- Two hours earlier -

"What's the time?"

Lestrade lifted his wrist, glancing at his watch. He groaned as he looked at it, he had been here for hours already and Sherlock seemed no closer to solving the case. He was exhausted and spending roughly five hours alone with the detective had only worsened his mood.

"Half past three in the bloody morning! For heaven's sake Sherlock, hurry up and solve the damn case so we can all go home! Some of us have to get up early you know! Not everyone can sit around all day, we actually have to work!"

Normally he wouldn't have snapped whilst on a case, not even at Sherlock, but today he was tired and irritable. He had a mountain of paperwork to sort out before he could go home and he had to start work again at 8.30, at this rate he wasn't going to much time, if any, to sleep. He glared across the room at Sherlock, who completely ignored his discomfort and continued to examine the body of Elaine Briggs, that still lay in front of him, for what must be the hundredth time that day. Watching Sherlock, continuing with his work, ignoring anything that he didn't consider important - including himself - gave Lestrade the sudden urge to punch him and it took all of his strength to stop himself from lashing out at the detective. Not only would it be very irresponsible and unprofessional of him, he would probably end up hurting himself more than he would Sherlock - those cheek bones were lethal.

He turned away towards the door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He slowly started walking towards the door, intending to step outside for a while and cool off so he could put up with Sherlock for a few more hours. He reached out for the handle, about to open the door, when Sherlock called out:

"You're not going, are you?"

Unless Lestrade was very much mistaken, there was a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he didn't want to be left alone. This slight change to Sherlock's voice stopped him in his tracks, his hand dropping to his side as he spun round to face Sherlock, who was watching him intently. Taken aback by Sherlock's sudden interest in him, he could only stare back into the pale blue eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly as his muddled brain struggled to process what was happening. Did Sherlock actually care about him?

"Well?"

Sherlock asked impatiently, his voice cold and indifferent once more. As he spoke, he moved his gaze back to the corpse in front of him and began to examine it once more. Of course he doesn't care! He's Sherlock Holmes for heaven's sake! He doesn't care about anyone! Lestrade could feel the anger building up inside him once more and glared at Sherlock, who continued to ignore him. Again, the urge to step forward and punch the man threatened to overtake him and it took all of his strength to restrain himself. Not now, I'm on duty. I don't want to get sacked because of him.

"No, I just... I need a few minutes... a bit of time to myself... so I don't, you know..."

His voice shook slightly as he spoke, much to his embarrassment, still fighting the urge to smack Sherlock in the face. Doing nothing to help his mood, Sherlock smirked as he replied, his mocking voice only irritating Lestrade further.

"So you don't do what exactly? Throw me out of the hospital? Refuse to let me solve this case? I'd like to see you try."

He laughed as he spoke, amused by Lestrade's anger, before continuing with his work. Frustrated, Lestrade turned and stormed out of the room, pausing as he stepped through the doorway to turn back towards Sherlock and yell at him, angrily.

"So I don't punch you in the face you idiot! You have no idea how much I..."

Unable to continue, he let his voice drift off as spun around and stepped into the corridor. He could hear Sherlock chuckling quietly as he slammed the door shut behind him, angrily striding down the corridor towards the reception. He flung open the double doors to the reception, one of which hit Anderson in the chest and knocked him back into a small display, sending it crashing to the floor and scattering leaflets and flyers across the room. Stepping over Anderson, who was lying on the floor amongst the remains of the display, he quickly crossed the room towards the front door. Shouting at the forensic investigator as he left the room.

"Get up Anderson, you moron! If that mess isn't cleared up in the next five minutes, you will regret it!"

He could hear Anderson grumbling about how it 'wasn't his fault' and that it was 'not fair' as the doors swung shut behind him but didn't care. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and enjoying the feeling of the cold air washing over his skin. It had been a long night and he was looking forward to getting some sleep. Opening his eyes, he gazed up at the stars above him, taking a moment to enjoy their beauty.

His head snapped round as he heard Sherlock's voice calling him from inside the hospital. Relieved, he turned and began walking back through the hospital, ignoring Anderson's complaints as he passed through the reception. Sherlock never asked him for help with a case and, as he had everything he could possibly need, there was only one explanation for his calling for him - he had solved the case.


- Two hours later -

Lestrade sighed as he slotted the last of the paperwork into the filing cabinet beside his desk. The paperwork had taken longer to sort out than he had anticipated, a lot longer. He locked the cabinet, putting the key into the top drawer of his desk as usual. He closed the drawer and turned towards the door, slowly walking across the room and stepping out if the office. He locked the door behind him, slipping the keys into his pocket as he called out to Sally who was still working in the next room.

"Donovan, it's getting late. The paperwork's been sorted and I think we both deserve a rest, don't you? Leave whatever you have left for tomorrow, I'm sure it can wait"

He could hear papers being shuffled around frantically and numerous filing cabinets being opened and closed again as she replied.

"Just putting these papers away, won't be long. What time is it?"

He groaned as he glanced down at his watch, half past five already? Where had all the time gone? It seemed like only minutes ago he had heard the four gun shots that led him to St Barts, where he had remained with Sherlock for almost five hours. He was about to call out when Sally appeared in the doorway, she was smiling but she looked exhausted. Instead of replying, he simply lifted his wrist so she had a clear view of the watch. She looked at it and grimaced. Looks like I'm not the only one who doesn't like staying up late. Realising that it wouldn't be safe for her to drive, he volunteered himself for the task.

"Shall I drive? You look shattered, it would be irresponsible to let you fall asleep at the wheel"

She nodded in agreement and they slowly made their way out of Scotland Yard. They were halfway across the car park when they heard the distinctive sound of three gunshots in the distance.

"What the..."

They looked regretfully at each other for a moment before turning around and sprinting back towards the building.


A/N:

As promised, finished writing and published the next chapter within 24 hours - I hope you like it

Please let me know what you think - I love to hear your opinions and reviews are always good :)

Sorry I've taken so long to update - been very busy recently but now I should have more time to write so hopefully I will be able to update again soon.

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-Skoliro95-