Title: Making the Connection

Story Summary: A non-chronological collection of short chapters based on one word prompts, includes (pre-)slash for Johnlock & Mystrade

Chapter Summary: Lestrade goes to a crime scene, where evidence seemingly connects him to the victim. Humour & Mystrade. Prompt: Residue.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Moffat, Gatiss & SACD.

A/N: The inspiration for this chapter came from the review that the lovely floppybelly wrote for the last chapter. Therefore 'Trunk' is a direct prequel to this. As most of the time the prompt came from oneword(dot)com, if you'd like to prompt me you can do so in a review or a PM.

A tricky case was always a good start to a new day. It meant less formalities and more hands on police work. It was the first of March and a young woman had been found dead in the park. When Greg arrived on the scene Sergeant Donovan was already there. They exchanged pleasantries while he got into the blue forensic coverall.

"So, what do we got, Sally?", the DI asked as he walked under the upheld yellow barrier tape.

"We received an anonymous tip this morning that there was a dead woman in the park. She's thirty-three years old, wearing an expensive new dress, the price tag is still on it." She briefed him on their way to the little forest that was the actual crime scene, reading from her notepad. "The cause of death is a single gunshot wound to the head, the temple to be exact, time of death approximately three o'clock last night. Looks like suicide to me."

"But?" He took a sip from his takeaway cup of coffee. It didn't taste the same without the first cigarette of the day to go with it.

"Well, there's no sign of the murder weapon. We took a swab from her hands anyways and it's already on its way to the lab to check for gunpowder residue. Also I think we might have a clue to her identity. She was shot while she was leaning against that tree." Sally pointed in the direction of a large oak.

Greg frowned. "What does a tree have to do with her identity?"

"See for yourself, boss."

Lestrade walked around the tree, first he took the time to take a good look at the toppled over woman who lay on the ground. At her feet was an abandoned clutch bag, he held it open with a pen and looked at its contents. Then he got up again and inspected the tree trunk, there were initials carved in it just above his eye height, framed with a heart.

"The carving seems to be fresh." Anderson had walked up to him from behind and was providing him with his input. "Maybe she had an emotional connection to this place. She could be either GL or MH. Wait a minute, GL, Greg Lestrade! Do you know that woman?"

"Don't be stupid, Anderson. She wouldn't even have seen them in the dark, also, how tall is she? Maybe five feet and what... four or five inches? That carving was not in her line of sight." He pointed out quickly, hoping that the sudden flush that he felt in his face was not visible. "No, my bet is that she was talking to her boyfriend on the phone and then shot herself. Afterwards he came to look for her, took the phone and the gun and then tipped us off."

"How do you know she had a phone?" Anderson asked huffily.

"There's a broken phone charm in a brand new bag." Lestrade replied, still feeling a bit too on edge to enjoy the rather Sherlock-like moment.

"Okay. But why do you think her boyfriend tried to cover it up?" This time it was Sally. God, those two really weren't the quickest. Or maybe he had spent do much time with a certain Holmes brother lately.

"It's the first of March and she's wearing an expensive, new dress. I think she proposed to her boyfriend on leap day, he turned her down and bought her the dress to make up for it, it's a tradition. When she killed herself because of it he most likely didn't want to be blamed, so he decided to cover it up. It was probably his gun." Lestrade looked at his sceptic subordinates. He used their silence to excuse himself for a minute from the crime scene.

When he was out of earshot he took out his mobile, pressed the number one speed dial and waited until someone picked up on the other end.

"Hi, it's me. I need to know exactly how much your brother knows about us."