Inspector Lestrade rarely went over to Sherlock's flat. Normally he would have called or texted the case information, but the blasted man wasn't answering his cell. He'd better have a good excuse.
Mrs. Hudson opened the door and let him in. "Sherlock's upstairs." She said. "He's been up there doing who-knows-what. I haven't heard any gun shots, but then again I just come back from the-."
"Yes, thank you Mrs. Hudson." Lestrade interrupted and started up the stairs. She talked too much. She needed to get a hobby, like knitting, or something.
He knocked on the door. When no one answered, he opened it himself.
At first, he thought the room was empty. Then John walked in from the kitchen.
"Hi Greg."
"Hello John. Is Holmes in? I have a case."
John brightened a little bit. "That's great! He's on the sofa."
Lestrade saw him now. Sherlock was lying on his side, facing the backrest. He wasn't moving.
"Sherlock," the Inspector began. "I have a case for you."
Sherlock didn't respond.
"A witness says she saw a man get shot on an empty side street in broad daylight. We examined the body, but there's no entry wound. After examining the crime scene, our team never found a bullet casing."
"Poison." Was the audible, yet somewhat muffled response.
"Haven't found any yet."
"Was it a stroke?" John asked form behind his laptop.
"We don't think so. We haven't been able to i.d. the man, but he seems to be in perfect health."
John frowned and went back to blogging.
"Well Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.
There was no response from the figure on the sofa.
"I'll come." Said John. "Maybe there's something I can help with."
Lestrade nodded. He gave one last look at Sherlock, then turned and walked out.