Inspector Lestrade took a sip of coffee from his thermos, blinked several times and tried to wake himself up. It was goddamn 3 in the morning. He just wanted to drive back home and sleep beside his newly married wife, where it would be nice and warm under the bed sheet. The detective turned off the engine and shook his head. Stop whining, this is a crime scene. He took a deep breath and placed the thermos back into the holder.

A uniformed officer that Lestrade didn't recognize ran up to him and shook his hand.

"Detective Inspector,"

Lestrade nodded curtly in reply. "So, where's the body?" several cruisers were already stationed around Lestrade's car. The whole road was blocked. The officer gestured toward a wall of blue sheets set up in the middle of the road like a curtain to hide the body from any view of passerby. Not that there are any at this time. Lestrade saw a black Honda Accord parked not so far down the street. A man who seemed to be the driver of the car was sitting down at the curb while one of the officers was questioning him.

"He got out of the car as soon as the vehicle bumped over an unknown object. He immediately called the police when he saw that it was a body."

Lestrade frowned and flashed an expression of annoyance. "Seems like a typical car accident to me? Why did you call me?" The officer coughed in his fist.

"Um…well, the body had some well…unusual characteristics and we thought it might have something to do with your case. I just wanted you to check and see." The hairs on the back of Lestrade's neck prickled with anticipation. "If we're wrong then well…I'm sorry to have called you at such an ungodly hour." The Detective Inspector nodded and approached the blue sheets. He swiftly weaved through the bustling forensics team and the uniformed officer followed. The body was flopped onto his stomach and completely naked. A wheel mark of the Accord was etched across his pale-blue back, but it didn't look as nearly as painful as the other injuries inflicted on the body. There were several gashes on his shoulders, back of his knees, a dark bruise around his neck, and a large portion of his skin on his hip and arms were missing. They were cut out neatly so the red flesh almost looked like a bracelet wrapped around the arm, and the scar on the hip looked like a stencil art of a cat. Finally, there was a bullet wound on the back of his head. He didn't need to flip the body over to check the rest of the details. He recognized the pattern. Lestrade shivered and turned to the officer.

"Thanks for calling."

It was the first time he had ever handled a serial murder as an investigation leader. If fact, it was the first time he ever encountered such a bizarre murder throughout his entire career. Lestrade crouched beside the body and bit his lower lip. A pair of leather shoes appeared beside him. Lestrade looked up to see a heavily bearded face of Sergeant Anderson from forensic services.

"Not much I can do here, sir. It's the first time we ever found one on the road." Lestrade nodded in agreement. Usually, the victims were abandoned in the corner of unpopular parks, vacant alleyway, or public restrooms. This is the first time ever that they found a body in a completely open space. Could it be that the murderer was breaking the pattern or was it a work of a mad copycat?

"Send it to autopsy analysis right away. Check for prints, skin cells, time of death, and the usual stuff" Lestrade instructed and Anderson nodded. The Detective Inspector didn't have high hopes with the autopsy results. They would just leave him to another dead end, just like the other murder victims. No prints, no DNA, no nothing. He would receive a lengthy report on the victim's health conditions, injuries and a thorough description of the ballistics analysis from the head wound. So far he found no link between the murder victims. They had different occupations, different family background, and different age group. Lestrade scrunched up his face. He hated random killers. They were so hard to catch.

Next, Lestrade turned his attention to the driver who found the body. He strolled up to the weary looking middle-aged man and greeted him politely. The interview was quite simple; a standard procedure that Lestrade was all too familiar with. He executed it briskly, knowing that the driver was quite innocent, worn down and tired. Then, he had him escorted to the station for proper interviewing and documentation. He apologized for the trouble.

"It won't be long, sir I promise." The driver threw a very cross look at Lestrade but he climbed into one of Lestrade's subordinate's cruiser.

…

"So…not letting me out?" The tall, lanky young man leaned against the cell door and slurred. His head drooped forward dangerously and bumped into the small barred window painfully. The man didn't seem to notice the pain. He grumbled something inaudible and stared at the constable blankly.

"I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen." The constable shook his head and stifled a yawn. It was almost dawn. "The test results are clear as crystal. You'll have to face the charges."

"No one's bailing me out?" The convict muttered.

"I'll tell you when you do."

"No need. I'm sure he won't let me out for a while…to teach me a lesson." The man shrugged and slouched back to the bunk in the side of the cell.

"Who are you talking about?" No reply came back. The constable opened his mouth to say something but closed it. He wasn't here to hold a conversation with a junkie. His job was done. The young man was lied on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The officer shook his head. The convict was probably too high to sustain a proper conversation anyway. He felt a sense of pity for him. The man was only a few years younger than the constable. He wondered what it must be like to have his life ruined by drugs at such a young turned off the lights and went back to his station.

…

Lestrade scratched the back of his neck as he entered the autopsy room of St. Bart's. Dr. Gables was awaiting them. Lestrade marveled at the doctor. No matter when he visited him, the man had his slick trim hair set neatly and he didn't look even a bit tired. He was almost in his fifties but his smile and the glint in his eyes were younger than that of Lestrade's. Dr. Gables loved his job. Lestrade noticed a young woman also dressed in a white lab coat standing beside Dr. Gables.

"Evening. Or morning, I don't know which." The doctor said jokingly and the two shook hands over the dead body on the table. Then, he gestured at the young mousy looking girl beside him. "This is Molly Hooper, she's going to be working as my assistant as an intern for a while"

"Nice to meet you Detective Inspector…er"

"Lestrade"

Molly Hooper looked pale and her make-up was thin. Obviously, she had been forced to jump out of bed only a few hours ago, just like Lestrade. Still, she made an effort to flash a smile up at him. He appreciated the young girl's effort. Dr. Gables and Moll Hooper looked like exact opposite. Gables was well past his prime, yet he exposed a jubilant ray of joy and energy. On the other hand, Molly Hooper was so young, yet she looked tired and worried. Then, Lestrade laid his eyes on the body. The lower half was covered in sheets and the body had been thoroughly sliced open and stitched up neatly. There was a long y shaped stitch mark running down along either side of the victim's collar bone, which met up at the chest and ran down straight across the abdomen. At a table behind the two doctors was a sliced up heap of the insides of the victim. Lestrade quickly looked away from the table and turned back to Gables.

"Did you find anything?"

"Well, nothing that impressive but we did find something. Whether it's interesting or not is up to you. I thought I ought to let you know before it's too late." Gables started cautiously. Lestrade furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?"

"The victim had a serious liver problem and several of his other organs were suffering from minor tissue damages and the sort that you would find in a typical heavy drug addict. We did a thorough check on his blood analysis." Molly Hooper brought a clipboard from the nearby table and handed it to Gables, who flipped it over with a quizzical look.

"So he's a drug addict? Is that it?" Lestrade asked half disappointed.

"No, that's not it." Gables flashed a smile. He handed the clipboard to Lestrade who scanned it. It was a list of substances that they found from the blood analysis. Lestrade didn't recognize even half of its name.

"Alphamethadol, 4-Methyl-aminorex, Naphyrone, and several other opioid and stimulants were found, and from the alarming amount of quantity, it seems that it was taken less than 12 hours before his death. It's a very peculiar mix and not to mention very, very strong. I haven't seen anything like it before." Lestrade shrugged and handed the clipboard back to Gables. The doctor shook his head and refused to receive the list.

"I'm not done yet. You have to understand that this drug is an incredibly unique mix. Either he must have mixed it by himself, or he got it from a particular drug dealer, which is highly unlikely but if true, it must make your job easier to identify the victim." Lestrade nodded.

"What day is it?" Gabels suddenly asked.

"What?" Lestrade frowned. "Um…December 20th."

"Well then, let's just say this is my early Christmas present to you." The doctor said merrily and handed another clipboard to Lestrade.

"Just a few hours ago, we received a request from the drugs directorate to do a blood analysis on a particular young man they caught in a possession of a drug. Here's the analysis of the substance he had in possession and his blood sample." Lestrade gazed down at it and blinked. "All three of them made a perfect match."

Lestrade contacted the drugs directorate and asked for the current whereabouts of this particular young man. They told him he was spending the night at a police station cell only a few minutes away by car. Lestrade immediately climbed into his vehicle and started the engine. The sun was already rising from the horizon. Lestrade wasn't sleepy anymore. He was hyped up with adrenaline. He finally had a lead; something to new to work on.

…

Police Constable Riley was alarmed when he received a call from a Detective Inspector in Homicide and Serious Crime Command. He was asked whether the man they had under custody was currently available to speak with the detective.

"I don't know, Sir. He's been heavily intoxicated but not enough to be sent to the hospital…"

"That's good enough for me. Wake him up, please." The voice said gruffly from the other side and the line went dead. Riley bolted from his chair and hurried to the cell number four. He turned on the lights and peeked into through the barred window. The convict was sitting upright on his bed with his back against the wall. He had his eyes closed.

"Oi, Holmes, get out. Someone wants to see you." The constable called out. The slender man cracked his eyes open and turned his head toward him. He blinked several times and frowned.

"Really, already? Had Mycroft gone soft?"

Thanks for reading the first chapter :)

This is my 2nd fan fic. I always wanted to explore what Sherlock must have been like when he first met Lestrade and how he came to be a consulting detective.

Unlike my 1st fan fic, I wanted to make this more action-packed and realistic. Hope you like it!

And sorry if you found any american english in here. I usually speak american english so forgive me for the inaccuracy!

I'm also not very familiar with the landscapes of london so you'll have to do with the foggy location description X(