There were a dozen cases waiting to be heard before mine, anxious families and hardened toughs lining the hard benches outside the judge's chambers. Mycroft steered me into one of the corners, beckoning Gregson over to stand watch. "This may take some time," he warned me. "Best sleep if you can."
"Sleep?" Gregson echoed, flat astonished. "How's he meant to sleep?"
"He is a soldier," Mycroft answered imperiously. "And if this is a battlefield, the guns have not yet begun to fire. A little sleep will help restore his wits."
I did not join in the argument. Mycroft was right.