A/N: It is with a heavy heart that I write this drabble; I offer my sympathy and prayers to all of you across the Pond.
Lestrade wearily leaned back at his desk, gazing across the office at the Met. Despite the frenetic activity, most of the people here were exhausted. All too near, insanity reigned above order; cars and shops looted and burned, both police and innocent bystanders injured, and everywhere ordinary people feared to leave their homes.
It horrified him to see his city in such a state.
He still remembered the race riots in Brixton as a teenager in '81, that Bloody Saturday. He'd hoped never to see such madness again.
Lestrade grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and got back to work.