This case was a tricky one.
Lestrade sighed and got up from his desk to get his fifth coffee that night. He grabbed his mug and in the process knocked down a stack of folders that went crashing to the floor.
He cursed and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He needed sleep, but going home meant coming into an empty flat that was nothing more than proof for his failed marriage.
He turned around and almost ran into Donovan.
“We have a new one. Body, that is. I hate to say it, but we need them.”
“Yes, we do. I’ll call Sherlock.”
40 minutes later they were all at the crime scene, Sherlock standing close to Lestrade, rattling of deductions. John was a few steps away, watching them.
Suddenly he made a strange little sound, like he just had an epiphany. Both men looked up and at him, hoping for a case-related idea.
Instead of speaking John just walked over, grabbed Sherlock by his coat collar and pulled him into a kiss. When he let go again, even Sherlock looked a little shocked.
John shook his head. “As if you didn’t know.”
They looked at each other for another moment, Sherlock opened his mouth and then... then Anderson lost his balance and fell on the body.