Oneword: Desk

Lestrade sighed as he parked his motorcycle in the alley next to his new apartment. Hurrying inside before the brooding clouds overhead decided to open fire, he ducked in the door-frame and checked his mail. A couple bills greeted him, alongside a firm white envelope marked with the royal seal. Curious, he hung his riding jacket up and brought the mail into the kitchen. The bills could be dealt with later; the unusual envelope would be his reading material over dinner.
The kippers and crackers were a sorry contrast to the fancy penmanship that greeted him under the heading, "From the desk of Mycroft Holmes."
Squinting to make out the letters hidden in the loopy scrawl, Lestrade could make out what appeared to be an invitation. A garden party? Greg never got invited to these sorts of events, and he wasn't sure that now was the time to start. He would have to have a word with Mycroft about dragging commoners and policemen into the posh world of the parliament.
Although, Greg conceded silently to himself, Mycroft was probably more than familiar with the intricacies of the situation. The DI wondered if this was a challenge, to see if he could step up to the plate and adapt to a new situation.
If so, he agreed with a nod at the imposing letter, challenge accepted.