Even with Mycroft's influence, it was nearly twelve hours and three emergency surgeries later before they heard anything about Lestrade's current condition. The surgeons had come out and walked the missus into a separate room to give her the news. Everyone held their breaths until Jennifer Lestrade walked back into the waiting area and started wailing.

"So, not good news then." Sherlock muttered softly. John didn't even bother to smack him one… just collapsed back into the chair in devastation. Mycroft stood and gestured to the surgeon to approach them.

"What can you tell us about the Detective Inspector's condition, Doctor?" Mycroft asked authoritatively. Privacy laws, obviously, did not apply to the British Government.

The doctor looked around before he spoke softly, "His condition has been stabilized, but he's not out-of-the-woods just yet. We've repaired the torn muscles and ligaments in his shoulders. Good news - with physical therapy, he should gain full use of his arms within a few months." Sherlock remained entirely silent and still, while John nodded in understanding. Mycroft only waved at the man to continue; all of them were anxious waiting to hear the 'bad news' that was coming. "Unfortunately, we're battling sepsis. The knife wound in his leg was severely infected – we did our best to try and save the leg. Unfortunately, the blood flow was severely diminished leading to necrosis in several areas of the limb, including his toes. We reestablished blood flow, but once the cells die, there's no coming back. There was no choice but to remove the necrotic tissue. We'll have to keep an eye on it and there's no guarantee that we won't have to go back in and completely remove the leg. He has an incredibly high fever – over 41 right now – we've put him on IV antibiotics and have restricted all visitors, including his family."

"How much necrotic tissue did you remove?" Dr. Watson asked professionally, forcing himself to detach his emotions from the current medical discussion.

The answer was brutal to hear, "We removed nearly 45% of his thigh and 10% of his leg, as well as several toes."

"The quadriceps muscles the majority of that?"

"Yes. You must be Dr. Watson… I heard that a doctor had found him at the scene and kept his arms and legs stabilized during transport. Well done, sir."

John put a fist against his mouth to keep from shouting. With difficulty, he steered the conversation back to their friend. "If you removed over 45% of the quad, it's unlikely he'll be able to put any weight on that leg... walking, running, squatting, even bending his knee -."

"Yes, you're correct. There will also considerable pain, but once he's awake, we'll work with him to setup a pain management plan. Unfortunately, this is a career-ending injury as a police inspector. He'll need round-the-clock care at first, once he's out-of-the-woods, we'll start the physical and occupational therapies as well as psychological sessions to help him through the emotional and mental recovery process. He'll also need your help… you're his friends. He'll need your support to get through this life-changing injury."

Mycroft spoke, resting a hand on John's slumped shoulder, "Yes, of course. He will have all of our support." The doctor nodded, then walked away, leaving them all in a state of shock.

"He has two children, doesn't he, John?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Yes, he does. Freddie, his son, is five and he has a younger daughter, Sarah. She's three or four now. God, this is a mess." John stood from his chair, moving towards the group huddled in the waiting area.

Mrs. Lestrade was still sobbing. Sally Donovan held her as she cried. John kneeled in front of her and took her hands.

"It'll be alright. Greg is a fighter. I know that he'll make it … don't cry."

The woman shook her head, refusing the comfort as anger bubbled over. "No, it won't be alright! I told him to quit that damned job! But, no, he wouldn't listen to me! I had to sit at home and worry about him every single damned day because that's the job of a police officer's wife! I can't do this ANYMORE! And now, they tell me that he'll be in a wheelchair – he won't even be able to feed himself for months! So, what? Now, I'll have to take care of him? Feed him? Bathe him? For the rest of my life? I hope he just dies!" With that the crazed woman pushed him away from her and ran away – she ran away from the waiting room, the hospital, the situation – and worst of all, her husband.

You could hear crickets in the waiting room; The entire room was utterly silent and in shock at her reaction. They all jumped in shock when the silence ended as John punched a hole through the wall. No one moved to stop the enraged doctor from following the missus to the parking lot.

The woman was already at her car; she was struggling to put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands. John had run up the door and jerked it open. Mrs. Lestrade screamed as he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her slightly. "So, what? You're leaving? You're just going to leave him when he needs you the most? What happened to 'in sickness and in health'?"

She pushed him away and tried to close the car door again, "Leave me alone! I can't do this! I can't see him right now!"

John used his strength to keep the door open; he was angry, yes, but also understanding. "Jennifer," he used her first name, softening his voice to try and get her to calm down and think rationally. "Greg needs you. He's really sick right now and needs his family. Trust me when I tell you, you and the children were what he was fighting for. I know it's the reason why he's still alive… Since the doctors have restricted visitors for now, why don't you get some rest and then come back in the morning?" He used his most kind and pleading tone in effort to break through her fear. "I know you're afraid, but it will be better in the morning."

"No. It won't be. I'm done, John. I'm done with all of it. You can't ask me to see him like that… to take care of him like that. I won't do it. I won't put the children through it anymore – I'm taking them on a holiday. If he makes it, tell him I said that we'll visit once he's on his feet."

"Jennifer, please… don't do this. Please." John begged, "Don't take the children anywhere, just relax for the evening and think it through. This has all been a shock and you don't need to make any decisions right now. I can take you home and we can talk about it – or you can call your friends for support."

"I just need to get away. Please! Leave me alone, I don't want to talk. Just let me go." She pushed at him again and this time he allowed her to shut the door and drive away.

John looked at the retreat sadly. She was just another AWOL army wife. He hoped for better for his friend.

He stared at the empty parking spot for a while and when he finally looked up, Sherlock was standing beside him.

"Greg is going to need our help, Sherlock. He doesn't have anyone else."

"John – I'm not very good at that area. Caring, comfort—emotions. I don't know how… to be a good friend, like you are." Sherlock stumbled. "My focus has always been work. I don't think I can help Lestrade."

John grabbed his friend's hand. "You don't have to change yourself, Sherlock."

"I am too blunt and truthful, John. I will inadvertently say something that might hurt 'feelings' or anger him."

John smiled a little bit, "Surprisingly, having someone to scream at works wonders during the recovery process. It'll give him something else to be angry about other than his condition. Venting frustration, you know? You'll just need a thick skin to handle the abuse he's likely to throw back at you."

Sherlock squeezed his hand back, "I'm sure I can meet the required criteria of deflecting verbal abuse as it's hurled at me. How do you think I made it through university, John?"

John chuckled half-heartedly, "They won't allow visitors for a while; not while his blood is septic – so, why don't we head to the flat and get some rest. We'll need to discuss his medical proxy since his wife left. Perhaps Mycroft can assist us in that regard. Of course, the news that his wife left him will probably set him back, we'll need to make sure he's stable first. And the recovery period will be -."

"John," Sherlock interrupted, "we should discuss all of this with Lestrade once he's awake; his wife leaving him again shouldn't cause any further trauma. She's left him seven times before and cheated on him with at least ten different men over the course of six years. Her reaction to his injuries was predictable. Lestrade will understand – it shouldn't be too much of a surprise. She left him at the hospital when he was shot four years ago and that was merely a graze."

John rubbed his head, "I see. So, I punched a wall for nothing?" He looked at the bruise forming on his knuckles.

"Apparently." Sherlock laughed, sending John into giggles in the middle of the parking lot. "Don't worry, Mycroft has already hired someone to fix the wall."

"God, I'm tired." John moaned dramatically.

Sherlock threw an arm over his shoulders and led him to the black limousine that was waiting for them. "Then, let's go home."

-

Thanks for all the reviews urging me to continue! Let me know what you think of the direction it's heading. (I'm imagining an injury worse than "House". It's going to take a long time before Lestrade is on his feet again.)