Lestrade couldn’t concentrate. That wasn’t all that unusual, considering the fact that Anderson and Donovan were pestering him (AGAIN) after Sherlock had just solved another case for them. What he needed was some good old fashioned relaxation.
As usual, as if he could read his mind, Mycroft happened to text Lestrade at exactly the right moment.
Hungry? Fancy some dinner? –MH
Lestrade sighed in relief. He picked up his phone and quickly texted back.
Starving. How do you do that? –GL
Trade secret. The car should be there momentarily. –MH
Lestrade smirked. He knew exactly what Mycroft’s secret was, but would never ruin it by telling the other man. He shut his computer down and turned off the lights. Grabbing his coat, he nodded his goodbyes to his team and locked up his office.
As promised, the car pulled up outside the police station just as soon as he walked out the door.
“Everything’s all arranged, sir. No worries,” the driver said to him crisply.
“Thank you,” Lestrade replied. He settled back to enjoy the ride.
With any luck, he’d get more to eat than just dinner tonight.