Author's note: Hey, I have a website! With pictures of the characters. You should totally check it out. The link is in my profile. Thanks, and on with the next chapter.
My husband groaned as he all but collapsed on the couch. Gingerly he maneuvered his foot to rest on the couch as well, though he hadn't even taken his shoes off yet. His first day back on the job had been a rough one, then.
"How's your foot?" I asked.
"It aches." He replied. "The cane helps, but then again it only adds to the looks I keep getting from people. Adams tried to hold the door open for me, and Smith offered to bring me a cup of tea!" He glared at the ceiling. "And the Superintendent is still waiting for me to crack, and that filters down to the Constables, so when I went to ask Jenkins a question, he about jumped out of his shoes, like he expected me to hit him!"
"What about Gregson?" I asked, curious.
"Oh, they think Gregson's going to crack too." Lestrade shook his head. "They thought he'd lost it when he informed me that it was about time I quit lazing about and got back to work, and Adams was trying to decide if he'd have to get between us when I told him that I had to come back, that they needed someone around who actually would work."
I laughed. "So you two are glad to both be back, then." I said. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes." He replied. "Definitely."
He was fine, then. His foot had healed, with only the slightest inward twist as a result of his injury, and that had not been enough to keep him from returning to Scotland Yard. He was tired, his foot ached, and he was still using the cane mother had given him for support, but he was happy.
He had been afraid he wouldn't be able to go back, though he had said nothing of it to me. I knew it anyway, and was as glad as he to find that his injury had not left the work he so loved closed to him.
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.
