Lestrade answered the door and stepped back to allow Inspector Jones and his wife to enter.

"Giles!" Mrs. Jones pulled the man into a hug almost immediately. "You're looking well."

Lestrade, to his credit, blushed only slightly. Jones, to his, did not react at all.

"You as well." Lestrade took their coats before leading them to the sitting room.

Abigail Jones smiled at the man as if they had always been best of friends while her husband resisted the urge to sigh. "And how are the little ones?" she asked. "Is Olivia talking yet?"

"Mostly in one-word sentences." Lestrade admitted. "Not because she can't do more, because I've heard her use complete sentences. She just doesn't seem to want to."

The woman chuckled. "Is she still insisting that she's the baby, or has she grown out of that?"

Lestrade shrugged. "For some reason she still likes to remind Dr. Watson when he comes over," he replied. "Though she did fairly recently take offense when her brother called her a baby at dinner."

Elisabeth Lestrade appeared then, to announce that dinner was ready. As they made their way back to the kitchen, Abigail looked around.

"Where are the children, by the way?" she asked. "Usually they've done their best to thoroughly embarrass you by this point."

"They're staying with Mum for a few days." Elisabeth answered cheerfully. "She gets like that, now and again, and insists on taking them for a week or so."

"And spoiling them," Lestrade grumbled halfheartedly.

"But we always enjoy the time to ourselves," his wife admitted. "Even if we are more than happy to have them back by the time they return."

Lestrade did not disagree with the assertion as the four sat down to eat, though he did add, "As long as Jackie doesn't insist on telling your mother I got shot."

Elisabeth winced. "He's told just about everyone else. Had to have an entire conversation with Inspector Gregson about it when he came to dinner."

It was Jones's turn to wince. That had to have been an incredibly uncomfortable conversation for both Gregson and Lestrade. No wonder both men had been so worked up the next day.

Lestrade looked distinctly uncomfortable now, Jones noted.

"That was when he dragged you out of that back alley?" he confirmed. Lestrade nodded.

"Jackie is rapidly becoming aware of the concept of mortality." Elisabeth admitted. "Unfortunately, that means he wants to discuss it with everyone he comes across. I'm sorry, Giles, but Mum is probably going to hear about it, and will probably have a few choice words to share on the matter."

Lestrade, resigned to his fate, simply shrugged.

Abigail smiled sweetly. "My mother thinks I could have done better than to marry a policeman too," she laughed. "I suspect most mothers think their daughters could do better."

Jones snorted. "My mother thinks you could have done better," he pointed out.

"Your sister adores me." Elisabeth told her husband. "Not sure why she thinks so highly of me."

"She thinks you've been good for me." Lestrade retorted. "And she's right. You have."

Abigail turned to her husband. "Have I been good for you, Athelney?" she asked, teasing.

Jones rolled his eyes at the woman and refused to answer. His wife simply laughed at him.

"He doesn't like to admit that he is, occasionally, plagued by the softer emotions," she stage-whispered to her companions conspiratorially.

"I cannot imagine." Elisabeth drawled. "Giles is manageable enough, as long as he doesn't have an audience."

Lestrade blushed and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. His wife snorted.

"Did you tell Gregson your wife was invited to dinner?" Lestrade asked his fellow Inspector abruptly.

Jones shrugged. "He was being insufferable. You should have seen his face when I told him."

Elisabeth looked thoughtful. "Inspector Gregson is more than welcome to bring his wife along next time, Giles."

"I'll be sure to tell him."