I always dig the timestamp meme.
Give me one of my own stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future after the end of the story, or sometime in the past before the story started, and I'll write you at least a hundred words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.
Do your worst.
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This needs to be an epic six-part HBO miniseries with lots of snark and explosions.
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Greg isn't someone who intimidates easily, which is just as well, because Mycroft Holmes is terrifying.
This morning, the man is sitting in a chair across from Greg's desk. Not that Greg has been to his desk in the last seven hours or so, most of them at crime scenes or in the lab and not getting sleep like he'd hoped. "And a good morning to you, too," Greg says, placing his mug of coffee onto the desk and stacking his newest case files on top of the old ones.
"Yes, well. I had thought you would be expecting me, DI Lestrade," Mycroft says. He crosses his legs and rests his hands on them in that unbelievably posh way of his.
"It slipped my mind," Greg says. "I've had a busy week." He rubs his forehead and tries to get his bearings as he settles in at his desk. He's had the abduction of a four year old girl and the murder of a police officer to contend with, along with some mid-year reviews of the members of his team. This thing with Mycroft Holmes may be a yearly meeting, but it's ( ... )
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