I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 30 : A goldfish in an aquarium.

The alarm tore up the silent of the room. Disgruntledly, Gregory crashed his fist on the device, yawning, and rolled on the other side, sinking his head in his pillow. Five minutes later, the alarm rang again while the detective was just falling back to sleep. Peevish, he cast aside the warm duvet and headed up to the bathroom, slipping himself under a hot shower. Mycroft was away since a week, accompanying a state visit in Australia and was to come home in the evening and Greg was longing to see his partner, something that put him in an even worse mood if it was possible. A towel fastened around his hips, he was picking a shirt and a suit for work when he heard his phone ringing on the bedside table. Dashing to the other side of the room to take the call, he slipped because of his wet feet, and unable to keep his balance, crashed his right knee in the wood and leather trunk displayed at the bed's end, making him scream and swear at the top o fhis voice, his yelling provoking those from his son in the nearby room. "For god fucking sake, damn !" he squalled, grabbing his phone and limping to Alden's room.
He lifted the little boy against his chest and, rocking him gently and whispering him comforting words, lead him back to sleep. His mother was to arrive inLondon later to take care of the toddler and the inspector hadn't planned to awaken his son before anyone was there to look after him. After a few minutes in his father's arms, the child was snoring gently, his angelic face peaceful again. Gregory wiped out a smalltear on the little pinky cheek before placing the boy back in his little bed. He was already late to work and was still naked except the towel, his hurted knee preventing him from hurrying as much as he should if he wanted to make it to his office in time. Dressing up as quickly as he could, he buttoned up his shirt badly, forcing him to unbutton it and button it again, his temper falling from bad to butchery. Glancing at the clock on the beside table while collecting his belongings on the bedside table, he decided to skip the breakfast, something he never usually do, and headed up directly to work. He joined his car, grabbing his black long coat on the corridor's hanger on the way, but he didn't even made it to the end of the alley, his knee preventing him from pushing the gas pedal. Repressing a string of insult he exited the black BMW and hailed a cab, remembering that he had forgotten to advise Michael that he was leaving without needing a breakfast.
Taking advantage of being inthe cab, he looked up at his phone to see that the call he had missed earlier was from Mycroft. He tried to ring him back but apparently the official was unavailable and Greg cursed himself of being this clumsy some time. He thought that his boyfriend might have tried to call him before taking off and that he was now in the plane,something that meant that the detective wouldn't be able to talk to him before he makes it home. The auburn, however had left a little vocal message that the yarder listen a couple of time before pocketing his phone again. 'I thought you would be awaken already, whatever, have a good day darling. I love you, see you tonight...'.
The inspector day wasn't exactly looking that good at the moment but he tried to cheer himself up, thinking about the nice evening he was going to spend with Mycroft and their son after a week of running all the time. The cab dropped him in front of Scotland Yard's back door just two minutes after eight and Gregory entered thebuilding, feeling that after all, maybe he could make something of this day. He was waiting for the lift when Phillip Anderson joined him, looking cheerful and perfectly rested, something which makes the detective slightly jealous.

"Good morning boss !"the forensics greeted him in a joyful voice.
Precluding himself of slapping his employee in the face Lestrade tried to stretch his lips in something that could look like a smile. "G'morning Phillip." he managed to say, letting out a yawn as soon as he opened his mouth.
"Bad night ?" remarked Anderson when the lift's door opened in front of them.
"Hmm" moaned the DI. "Alden wouldn't go to sleep before nearly two in the morning ...". For an unknown reason, the little boy had been absolutely dreadful to put to sleep the past evening and Greg had been forced to walk around the house, carrying his son in his arms, until late in the night before the toddler finally felt asleep.
"Why didn't your husband took care of him ?" wondered the other man. Despite the fact that he knew it perfectly well, Anderson never called Mycroft by his name, always referring to him as Gregory's husband or partner.
"He is in Australia, he ..." started the inspector when the lift stopped suddenly. That was really all what was missing to his morning, thought Lestrade, being stuck in an elevator with Anderson when he had a pile of paperwork to go through and the forensics was in an unseemly good mood. The detective pressed the alarm button angrily while the other man was looking surprise but still smiled as if this was any kind of funny joke.
"Oh, they still haven't fix that properly !" he giggled slightly.
"Apparently." snapped the grey-haired, not finding this funny at all.
"Come on Greg, don't tell me you are afraid." teased Anderson.
"No Phillip, but I've got work to finish and I would kill for a coffee." retorted the yarder, making an effort not to roast his employee, who, afterall, wasn't the cause of all his morning woes.
"Last week, Jena, the front desk receptionist, had been trapped in here for almost two hours before the company in charge of the maintenance finally arrived and let her out." advised him the forensics.
Gregory sighed, really hoping the repairmen would be quicker than last time, feeling slightly depressed of the idea of spending two hours in a lift, his knee still making him suffer greatly and his stomach rumbling furiously because of the lack of breakfast.
Luckily after only a couple of minutes the lift started moving again, increasing even more Anderson's level of felicity and making the DI sigh of relief. "See you later Greg !" concluded the forensics heading to his desk. The detective nodded and limped to his own office, a glass box that made him feel like a goldfish in an aquarium. He dropped his coat on a chair and ditched himself in his armchair, behind his desk, contemplating the stacks of paperwork lingered on the top of the furniture around the room. Stretching his arms and yawning once more he grabbed the nearest file and a pen.
He was to sign the report he had just finished reading when he noticed that the pen was empty. He tried to threw it to the bin 6 feet away but missed it and resisted the temptation of letting it on the floor, stood up to his feet, moaning of pain and discontentment. While he was up, he decided to take a break and made his way to the end of the corridor where stood the coffee machine, trying not to rest on his right leg too much to avoid the pain. He searched his pocket for some change and selected the strongest mixture the Yard could offer, a low quality, burning hot and heavily sweetened espresso. He drank it in a gulp, his eyes fixed on a framed poster of an orchid that had been hanged here in an attempt of making the place a little more welcoming, an endeavour that the grey carpeting and dirty white walls had always prevented.
Reluctantly he walked back to his office, grabbed a new pen from a pack in one of his desk's drawers and buried himself into paperwork, interrupted twice in the next couple of hour by Donovan who needed signatures on her own reports.

It was nearly half past noon when he looked up from his work, depressed by the fact that despite all his morning work, the office still looked in the same mess than earlier, a dozen of high stack of paper still poising on the different furnitures. The only thing that looked a little cleaner was Greg's desk which was now nearly entirely emptied of the different urgent case reports that had laid there earlier. His stomach was hurting in starvation and he decided that it was time for lunch. He stretch his arms in front of him and stood up, noticing that his knee was starting to get better before joining his employees's desks in the nearby open space, offering them to join him for lunch.
As it was raining outside, the three of them decided to eat at Scotland Yard's cafeteria, a place they usually avoid because of the noise of the crowded dining room. The place was already fraughted when they entered the subterranean restaurant and started queuing to be served. Gregory was starting to feel a little more cheerful when he arrived before the cafeteria employee but he immediately gave up his smile and good temper when he saw that the only choice remaining was brussels sprout and doubtful breaded fish. Renouncing to a proper warm meal, he picked out a couple of triangles corned beef sandwiches, not his favourite flavour, but the only one remaining that wasn't full of mayonnaise. He chose an apple and a bottle of water before paying the 5 and a half ponds his meal costed him to the cashier and joining his employees that were looking for a table, standing in the middle of the room, scrutinizing every corner of the cafeteria. They finally settled down at a small table, managing to display their three trays without making their plates fall on the floor and ate their industrial, untasty food while chatting about the sport results of the different football and rugby teams.

At one and a half, Gregory was back to his office, ready to get through more files but less than a couple of minutes after he had switched the light on, the rainy sky of this beginning of December not providing enough luminosity for him to see what he was supposed to read, the light bulb burned out provoking a huge sigh from thedetective. He grabbed his phone to call the maintenance but they indicated him that the serviceman was sick and that they had nobody available before at least two hours. After advising the maintenance office of all the good he thought of them, the inspector resolved to move to one of the nearby meeting room where he could, at least,work. He grabbed a pile of reports and managed to find a small, empty room only 3 doors away from his own. The office was dead cold because nobody ever came here and the heater wasn't turned on but Greg decided to stop complaining, determined to go through this day as quickly as he could, now fully aware that it was certainly not a good one.