Lestrade had steeled himself for the worst, but that did not prevent a chill of horror when he was told the details by Mycroft Holmes, along with what exactly had happened and why the younger man was completely unstable at the moment.
Lestrade understood probably better than Holmes himself why he was so distrait, and vaguely fumbled to comprehend that the Doctor might possibly never be with them again. His own grief paled, however, when the surgeon emerged from the waiting-room with the younger Holmes, who appeared even more ghastly now than he had earlier, animated by rage.
Now he merely looked as if his entire world had dissolved around him, burying his heart and soul in the ruins – and perhaps that was close to the truth.
"Lestrade," he muttered hoarsely.
"Mr. Holmes," the official returned awkwardly, wishing he could say something to alleviate the liquid pain in those grey eyes. "I…I am so sorry."
Holmes blinked suspiciously, whispering a thank-you, and the Inspector suddenly felt the urge to reassure the man.
"He'll be all right, Mr. Holmes," he promised rashly. "Just wait and see – you know how bull-headed he is. He's a soldier, you know, and won't give up."
He was rewarded with a half-choked sobbing laugh from the younger Holmes, and a heartfelt, grateful look from the elder brother.