365 Days of MyStrade

Mystrade : 1

Mystrade One Shot 1: The Meeting

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade had the worst day, he zipped up his jacket against the London chill as he made his way wearily home. It had started to rain too, unfortunately the DI had neglected to bring an umbrella and didn't see the point of driving to and from work when it was just as easy to walk. Also, it was a promise he'd made his now ex - wife (with the idea that he'd shed a few pounds, she had been particularly snarky about his weight in the last few months of their marriage).

The weary DI sighed. This case has proven to be one of the most trying, yet Sherlock refused to step in and help, naming the case a mere "3". Though Greg would hardly try to disagree with Sherlock, any murder is hardly a "3". Greg had been grilling possible suspects through the day, but to no avail. It was only when Donovan caught Lestrade with his head in his hands - after all, the victim was a teenage girl, just a few years younger than his own Natalia.

(Flashback)

"Go home Greg," Sally said gently.
"Hm? Oh. Yeah perhaps we should call it a night." Lestrade nodded, gathering up his stuff.
"It's nothing that won't keep until tomorrow, as sad as it is," the Sergeant murmured.

"I know. It's just, those poor parents. That girl, she had her whole life ahead of her..."

(End flashback).

Greg Lestrade was jerked out of his memories by the shrill ringing coming from a ...public telephone booth? The street was practically deserted. He shrugged it off and continued walking, for it was probably some nutter.

It kept ringing. Almost as if the caller was waiting for Greg to pick up.

Lestrade sighed as he approached the phone box, allowing himself in. He picked up the receiver, stating clearly:

"This is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade here. If this is a prank, you're wasting your time."

He was surprised when a cool, male voice replied smoothly:
"I'm well aware of who you are, Detective Inspector, and I must assure you this is no prank."

"Who is this?" Lestrade demanded

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough." the man replied. "Get in the car that has pulled up next to the telephone box."

Lestrade blinked in surprise, for a black limo had indeed pulled up alongside the phone box. To Lestrade's dismay, rain was cascading down.

Walk home in the rain, or get in the car?

Detective Inspector Lestrade always let the curiosity get the better of him.

Part 2:

"Uhh. Hi?" shock registered in Greg's face and voice as he set eyes on one of the most attractive ladies he'd ever seen before.

"Hi." she replied simply.

"I'm Greg."

"I know." She said cooly.

"Where are we going exactly?" the confused detective asked.

Silence.

(A few minutes later)

The car seemed to have reached its destination, the driver opened the door and Lestrade wearily got out. He was confused, and tired as hell.

"Follow me." The woman, Anthea (supposedly) beckoned the DI to follow her into what appeared to be a warehouse. Lestrade's cases have seen him venture into weirder spots though, so he followed her.

They seemed to have reached their destination - Anthea left, Lestrade could hear her heels clicking on the concreted floor. He cringed a bit, never being a fan of those shoes that his ex wife wore too.

"Mr Lestrade. Do sit down." came that cool voice from the phone.

"What is this about?" The DI demanded. He matched the state of his presumed captor, a tall, thinning suited man holding an umbrella.

"I merely want to offer you a proposition." the man replied.

"Who are you?" Lestrade demanded. He tried to pull his gaze away from the man, but found his eyes so alluring.

"An interested party." came the nonchalant reply.

"Interested in?" Greg pressed.

"Sherlock Holmes."

Lestrade sighed. Why was everything connected with Sherlock - fucking - Holmes? The consulting detective would be the death of the DI, he thought to himself.

"Why?" Lestrade asked gruffly.

"I worry about him." was all that was said in reply.

Lestrade opened his mouth to say something, but the man bet him to it:

"Constantly."

"That's nice of you." Lestrade muttered, trying to sound like a smart ass.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We're in what you may call a...difficult relationship." Lestrade observed the man fidgeting with the umbrella as he spoke.

"No." Lestrade responded.

His phone buzzed, Greg sighed in relief and checked his messages.

"Okay. I'll help you with your mediocre case. I'm bored."

- SH.

"I haven't mentioned a figure." The man replied.

"Don't bother." Lestrade responded. He got up and stretched. "Well..this has been...fun?" He tasted the word, trying it even though it didn't fit with what has so far been a bloody weird night.

"You're very loyal, very quickly, Inspector." the man said softly, holding the DI's gaze. Greg couldn't help but stare back.

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested." Lestrade murmured. He noticed the wince on the man's face as he emphasised the word, interested.

"Trust issues, detective Inspector?"

"What did you just say?" The DI demanded.

"It says here that you trust Sherlock Holmes, of all people."

"Who says I trust him?"

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily. No offence." the man replied, not backing down from Lestrade's gaze.

"None taken." Lestrade muttered. To be fair, the man wasn't wrong. He could only really call John Watson his friend, and even then that's limited. His wife was the social one in their marriage. "Thank god that's over" he thought to himself.

"Are we done?" Lestrade asked, sighing. He was tired as hell.

"You tell me." the man said suggestively.

Lestrade blinked, breaking his stare before turning on his heel and walking away.