"It’s midnight and you, an inspector with a promising career, didn’t go home but let yourself get drunk as a pig. I suppose that you must be in a very bad mood, and maybe saw some terrible things, so I shall give you my sympathy!
"But I still can’t imagine that you would pick such a dirty downtown tavern to buy a drink, even to relax. Are you strapped for cash?
"What a surprise! If you go to midtown, I’m sure those kiss-up men would know who you are, and would give you a discount. No doubt something happened, so you can’t have a drink for free anymore, not at least now.
"Hmm… pale face, red neck, and dilated pupils…you smoked opiates! Interesting! A cop smoking opiates!Have you always had such a special hobby?"
Lestrade froze, his pupils constricted out of fear—his secret had been discovered! He tried to say something, but the hoarse laughter did not wait for his words.
