Prompt: Write a fic of any size. But it has to be about BBC Sherlock's Lestrade.
The light poured into his office as a new day began to dawn. Detective Inspector Lestrade had his head rested upon the table. He was long gone from the world of the living and instead in a land of slumber. It had been one of the first nights in weeks he had slept for more than six hours. Even if it had occurred at his desk. Late at night whilst he had been finishing paperwork.
Waking up, he jerked up right in his chair. A piece of paper attached to his face. He looked around to see the office empty again. Looking down at the table below him he groaned before trying to reshuffle his papers. Looking at the calendar on his desk he suddenly realised that it was his day off. Great, he thought, a day off so his work would be disorganised and he would arrive back to some chaos.
After stretching in his chair Lestrade reached behind him for his jacket before standing up. It would be a tiresome drive home. When he reached the door he took one last look at his desk, resisting the urge to take the paperwork. His day off was going to have nothing to do with work. At all. He closed his door and walked towards the lift, passing a cleaner on the way out. He got a very funny look from her. Then again he always did.
It didn't take him long to get to his car and onto the road. Luckily it was still too early for any of the major traffic so his drive home was quick. As he pulled up to outside his flat he realised he hadn't exactly been there properly in about three weeks. It had always been a quick dash in dash out. He couldn't even remember the mess he had left it in.
Luckily it wasn't that bad. A few take away packages on the table and a few scattered shirts but that was about it. The sofa was free from any mess much to his relief. He soon found comfort in collapsing onto it. His eyes shut and soon he was drifting off again to catch up on much needed sleep.
Five hours later the irritating buzz of his mobile awoke him. He reached into his pocket without even opening his eyes and clicked the accept button. "Hello?"
"Oh Greg, I hope I didn't wake you. It being your day off and everything." The voice sounded familiar but in his dream like state he couldn't for the life of him recall who exactly it was.
"Sorry, late night. Who is this?" His eyes still firmly shut. He didn't want the light to hit his eyes and force him from the land of nod.
"It's John, you should really check your caller ID sometime." Lestrade mumbled an agreeing response that urged John to continue. "Ringing to see if you want to go out tonight. Match is on so we could go get a pint. I need to get out of this flat."
A loud bang went off in the background, sounded like an explosion. Lestrade could see why John would need to escape. Especially if Sherlock was deciding to conduct one of his experiments. "Yeah, sure. Look I'll ring you later when I wake up properly."
They exchanged goodbyes before hanging up and then Lestrade finally opened his eyes. The light wasn't so harsh after all and he felt much more refreshed that before. First thing he decided was that he needed a shower. He didn't realise he still had towels in the bathroom until he got in there. He was thankful there was. Especially as he only discovered that fact out after he had gotten undressed and was standing in the shower. He didn't mind walking through his house to go and get one but he hadn't shut the curtains. He didn't want the neighbours seeing anything. The tension in his shoulder seemed to disappear down the drain with the hot water. He hadn't had a decent shower in ages. He wasn't going to rush this one.
After he got out of the shower he retreated to his room to put on his outfit for the day. He was shocked he still even owned a pair of jeans. Ones he greatly put on. It was also nicer for him to opt for the t-shirt instead of the ones he was forced to wear for work. After getting dressed he retreated back to the living room to call John. Lestrade was going to go out, watch the match and have a pint with a friend he often saw at work. It wasn't going to be business. It wasn't going to be boring or stressful or a bother. It was going to be relaxing. He didn't often get a day off but by Jove he was going to enjoy every second of it.