Four months later- October

It was a Friday in late October. He was just getting back to the office after a three week absence to pursue further training in criminal investigation. He had received a promotion three months ago, to Detective Chief Inspector, and further training was required. The time away had been a welcome break. Hard work, for sure—it had been a long time since he'd been in a classroom-but the work was challenging and what he learned was applicable, at the very least not a waste of time. Had to do these things if he was going to make Superintendent someday. All in all, his career was looking up and he was feeling better about things at work than he had in a long time. Years, maybe.

He sat down behind his desk with a steaming cup of coffee, getting used to the feel of the chair again. Stupid, really, to come back on a Friday. Should have taken the weekend and then come back Monday. But there was always work to do. There were stacks of files to be read, mail to be opened, e-mail to read. And the e-mail, my god, the e-mail to be sorted. Who even knew there could be so many useless messages about donuts in the break room or birthdays or whatever. The red light was blinking on his phone annoyingly, accusingly, reminding him there were phone messages to be answered, too.

Sally Donovan tapped on the door and stuck her head in. "Welcome back, Boss," she said. "Just in time for the circus. Big trial going on. Things are crazy."

"Yeah, looks it," he agreed absently. He hadn't paid much attention to whatever trial was going on, focused on his own work. "Thanks for holding things together. Let's talk later, yeah? I've got loads to go through here."

She nodded and moved away. Lestrade picked up a pen, turned his attention to his desk, wondering where to begin. His phone chimed for an incoming text, and distractedly he picked it up and glanced at it.

Looking forward to tomorrow. What time should we meet?

Liz

He stared at the text, momentarily caught off guard. It had been a long time since he'd had a personal text like this. Frankly, he still found it surprising. He had a date. He had met Liz in the three-week course. She taught at University and had delivered a number of the lectures on criminal profiling. She was probably near his same age, and smart, pretty, and nice. Tall, nearly as tall as him, and blonde, with legs that went on and on. He was flattered she had flirted with him so shamelessly in the pub after class, even though it had been a little risqué to flirt with a so-called student. He had debated for a while but on the last day, after the class was over, he asked her out.

This was good, this was the right thing to do, he told himself, for about the twentieth time. He knew he should move on. Right after Molly left for Edinburgh, he got one text that said she had arrived safely, and after that, nothing. He texted back that first time, but she did not respond. Not about the weather. Or the news. Or the cat. He'd thought for sure he would hear something sooner or later. Now it was going on four months. Still no word. Four months of thinking about her, imagining what they could be like together, now that he'd had a glimpse. He had fantasized about her smooth skin, chocolate eyes, her long hair brushing against his face as she moved above him, what it would be like to be inside her. He was tired of enjoying that fantasy with just himself for company.

Fuck. She said she needed time but this was a lot of time. With no word. Maybe she just wasn't interested in him after all. Maybe he'd been wrong. He slapped the phone down on his desk in irritation. Why go down this road again. It had been nice to be out of London with new things to occupy his mind and time and not think about it every goddamn day for once. He had work to do.

A few hours later, Sally returned, and he could feel her presence hovering outside the door, uncharacteristically pacing a little. "Yes?" he said loudly, sounding a little unfairly impatient. There was just so much to do. "Is there something else?"

She hesitated, then made up her mind and came in. "Listen, there is something you should know." She held a piece of paper out to him. "This is a list of people that are going to get security for the trial. The witnesses and experts."

"Thanks. You can just leave it on my desk. I'll have a look at it tomorrow."

She walked it over to him, still holding it out for him to take. "I think you need to look at it now."

Sally rarely prevaricated. "Why?" he asked warily, taking the paper and having a look at it. "This isn't our div…."

And then he saw the last name on the list.

Molly Hooper—Forensic Pathologist

He was rendered silent for a moment. "But that doesn't make any sense," he said, leaning back in his chair, twirling the pen between his fingers with some agitation. "She's in Edinburgh."

"Not any more she's not," Sally answered, "She's already back."

Both their phones chimed simultaneously with incoming texts.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sally said, reading it. "There's been a break-in. At Molly Hooper's flat."

He'd already read the message. It all made sense now, why she was back. The trial, the one she'd been working on with Gregson. Happening now. He'd just not realized it, since he'd been out of town himself the past few weeks. Lestrade was up and out of his chair in a minute, grabbing his coat and heading out the door.

"That's not even our Division!" Sally yelled after him, to no avail. Resigned, she rolled her eyes and hurried after him, grabbing her coat along the way.

"Here we go again," she muttered, trying to keep up.