'Greg' [Sherlock Drabble]

Part 3

***

Somewhere in the distance there a phone was ringing. Sherlock cracked open an eye. The chief was a few paces away digging through the pockets of a coat that had cast unceremoniously across a cluttered work bench. Sherlock recognized the blue scarf still tangled among the material.

“Is it for me?” Sherlock coughed, swallowing against the salt iron taste of blood in his mouth.

The Chief narrowed his eyes. "Who is it?" he growled, shoving the camera phone’s blinking screen into Sherlock’s face. Sherlock had to squint to make out the name. The blue letters shone clear in the darkness.

Lestrade.