"Boss?"
Greg looked up from his desk, where he'd been quietly catching up on reports.
"Sally?" Greg responded with a friendly, welcoming tone.
"Might I… I mean… before I…"
Greg smiled. Sally was at that stage. The one where she may or may not retain her last meal, and the one where she may be questioning the wisdom of… CERTAIN decisions.
"By all means, come in. Sit down, Sally. What's on your mind, Sergeant?"
"Nothing, really… well… everything, really. Boss… I mean… Greg…" she asked, quietly.
Greg sat serenely, having abandoned his paperwork, and set down his pen.
"How did you know it was the right thing to do?"
Greg paused a moment, before responding. "Do you have dinner plans this evening?"
Sally was at first confused, but then decided, well, she had come to Greg for a reason. She might as well follow his rabbit trail of wisdom.
"No… I had dinner HOPES. Of keeping it down," she laughed softly.
When later, Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan had joined Greg and Molly in their humble flat, she found herself set at ease, between Molly's motherly air, and Greg's usual, subtle fatherly way.
But sitting in Molly's rocking chair, Bailey Lestrade in her arms, set her most at ease.
"So SHE'S how you knew then," she said, assured. "This darling little beauty."