The next morning, Sherlock was already up way before John and was pacing the flat relentlessly. "Good morning, John," he acknowledged when a disheveled John appeared in the living room. A yawn was his only response. "Hurry up, you're being as slow as Anderson is when he's taking an IQ test," Sherlock grumbled impatiently. John shot him a glare as he opened the fridge door deliberately slowly in search of milk. Upon opening the door, he groaned in disgust and shut it quickly. "Sherlock!" John called. "Why is there another human head in the fridge, and why is it wearing my sunglasses?" "I was testing the speed of decay in the human eyeballs after death and he is wearing your sunglasses simply because the state of his eyes is rather nasty at the moment," Sherlock called airily back. "Now hurry up, John, I'm bored, I need a case and we're going to Scotland Yard for one." John rolled his eyes but dutifully wolfed down his cereal.
Now, it was uncommon for panicked screaming to be heard from Scotland Yard, but when Sherlock casually swept through the doors, the receptionists immediately went into mini – panic attacks. Sherlock strode disdainfully past them, muttering about 'incompetents who can't even handle the sight of a person'.
The reactions when he stepped into the offices weren't any better. The first person they saw was Anderson, who dropped his coffee at the sight of Sherlock. "Why, hello, Anderson. Shame you dropped your coffee, it has so much more use than you do…" Anderson could only watch his retreating back as John mouthed a quick apology to him, trying to repress his sniggers. Sherlock was met with open mouthed stares, gasps and whispers. He ignored them all, until he caught sight of a white faced Sally Donovan. "Hello, Donovan," he acknowledged coolly, "Haven't changed after three years, have you? I see you scrubbed Anderson's walls yesterday…"
John nudged Sherlock as they continued towards Lestrade's office. "You really should stop greeting people like that," he muttered, but the amusement was clear in his voice. Sherlock glared at John. "I couldn't help it," he shrugged. "I mean, how can you miss the state of her knees? It was too obvious to miss." "To you it was," John mumbled. Finally they reached Lestrade's office. Sherlock didn't bother knocking.
Lestrade's head shot up when the door to his office was flung open. "I always told you to knock – "he began, annoyed, assuming it was one of his colleagues. His sentence fell short and his mouth dropped open when he saw who was at the door. John stood, grinning, and that alone was shocking enough after seeing him in a depressed state for so long. What was even more shocking was the fact that Sherlock Holmes was standing next to him, a slight hint of a smile on his face. "Lestrade," he greeted. "Do close your mouth, you look unappealingly like a fish out of water." Lestrade gaped for a few more seconds, before snapping his mouth shut. Then he strode around his desk and promptly punched Sherlock.
"You complete arse! We thought you were dead!" Lestrade shouted. Sherlock sighed, rubbing his cheek, and stalked out of his office. A few seconds later, he was back carrying something terribly familiar, which was a shockingly bright shade of orange. Sherlock tossed the Shock Blanket to John, who grinned and draped it quickly around the DI's shoulders before he could object. "There," Sherlock smirked at the look on Lestrade's face. "You have a blanket, so calm down, Lestrade. I apologize for my absence – "Lestrade spluttered indignantly – "but I assure you that, yes, I am real." Lestrade stared at Sherlock before finally grinning and throwing his arms around him in a crushing hug. Sherlock rolled his eyes but awkwardly patted Lestrade on the back before he pulled away. "Well, mate," Lestrade finally said, shaking his head, "We've got quite a few cases we could use your help with, but first, you owe me an explanation." Sherlock groaned dramatically. "Sorry about that, by the way," Lestrade said sheepishly, gesturing belatedly to the forming bruise on Sherlock's cheek. "No matter, Lestrade. I just love being greeted with a punch to the face." Sherlock rolled his eyes before allowing a small smile to escape. "It's good to see you again."