This one has an established Mystrade relationship, but no Mycroft!
Returning from a late shift at St Mary's, John was surprised to see Lestrade sitting in his chair, an empty glass hanging limply from his fingers.
Sherlock wandered in from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand, a sheaf of papers in the other. John looked at him.
"What happened?"
"He and my brother have had an argument, he thought he'd come here and tell me about it."
John rolled his eyes, and looked at the sleeping man.
"Did he drink all of that?" Removing the glass from Greg's lax fingers, John indicated the reduced volume of liquid in the bottle.
Sherlock hummed.
"I'll take that as a yes then." Depositing the glass in the sink and the brandy back in the cupboard, John switched the kettle on and got out two mugs, planning to make the detective inspector a cup of tea, but his hand was stayed as Sherlock appeared beside him, a sly smile on his face.
"You remember when that Adler woman drugged me, and Greg filmed it? I have a plan…"
Half an hour later, when Mycroft's driver arrived to collect the errant police officer, the boys assisted him downstairs and into the back seat, giggling as they did so.
Lestrade was wearing just a sheet, fashioned into a nappy, like a very large baby.