"Sir, I have the files you asked for.." Sally stood in the open doorway, a large accumulation of colourful folders in her hands. "Just put them on the desk thanks, Donovan" Sally did as she was ordered, staring at her boss with concern. There was something in her voice that had made her give him a second look. "Are you ok Sir?" Lestrade glanced up at her, confusion sweeping across his face. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, don't worry. Just, this." He gestured to his computer screen but it faced away from Sally. "What Sir?"

"John, he's finally written up his last case with Sherlock"

"Oh.." She wasn't sure how she felt about that. No doubt she would be painted rather harshly, but she deserved it.

"Yeah."

"I though he was working on some dog book?"

"Hounds? Yeah but he's been working on this other book for ages, just could never bring himself to type up the final story.." Poor bloke, don't blame him. Bloody brave to write it up though.

"I see." I wish I could tell him I'm sorry. Not John, Sherlock. Too late now. Far too late.

"Yeah. After this he'll finish Hounds then he's gonna have a book launch" Lestrade looked excited for the doctor, a smile flashing. "He's really good at this. Don't know where he finds the time though, between doing odd jobs for us, working part time at that practice and looking after a pair of twins. Suppose he feels better if he's busy." Sally simply nodded, there was nothing she could really bring herself to say.

"Will that be all Sir?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Oh! Did I tell you the good news? I think you were out."

"Good news Sir?"

"You know how I got engaged to that girl of mine, few months back?" It had been kept quiet, he did not want her roped into the harsh eyes of the press. He'd met her way before he and his wife divorced but after he'd discovered her cheating for the first time.. A few months ago he'd popped the question and she had said yes. He hadn't been so happy in a long time. Sally gave a hesitant smile.

"Yes Sir"

"She's pregnant. About a month along, we only just found out"

"That's wonderful Sir! I guess it's too early to tell if it will be a girl or a boy" Lestrade beamed broadly. "Yeah just a bit, but they've taken a guess. They think they know what it will be" Sally felt very happy for the Inspector. There had been precious few happy moments in the Yard lately. Or in Lestrade's only life, except his girlfriend of course. "A secret I guess?" Lestrade shrugged. "Not really. Told John anyway, Mycroft Holmes knew before I did. Not surprised. It'll probably be a boy. Already got a name picked out. Now that, I am keeping a secret."

Sally smiled once more. Her boss had always wanted children. He and his previous wife had tried. But with no luck. Possibly why their marriage had fallen apart. "Thats great Sir, it really is. Let me know when there's a baby shower, I'll have to buy a present for the little one." Lestrade shook his head, still grinning. "You don't have too, but I will let you know. It's funny, I always wanted a kid. Didn't realise I had one before it was too late. Now it looks like I'll have a second chance." Sally could feel a strange sensation in her throat and swallowed. She knew who he meant. She didn't miss the fleeting look of sadness in his eyes.

"Before you go. That new Inspector reported in yet? Whats his name... Clarky?"

"Not yet Sir. I'll send him here as soon as he does. And Greg?..Congratulations"

"Thanks Sal"

He watched her leave, picking up the photo of his fiance and stroking her face. A son. Oh he couldn't wait. He'd been nervous about names. But they'd been talking long before this. It hadn't been planned but it had been a wonderful surprise. She'd agreed on his choice of name. Like John, he was lucky to have found such a lovely, understanding and supportive woman.

Rupert Sherlock Lestrade.

Because if it wasn't for Sherlock, Lestrade would not be here today. Sherlock Holmes had saved his life, it was only fitting he name his first born after the fallen detective. When the kid was born, he'd take him to meet Sherlock. Sighing the Inspector placed the photo back down. His eyes turning to a rare group photo taken by Mrs Hudson. It was of John, Sherlock, Lestrade, Sally and that looked like Anderson cut off on the right side. John was smiling, always happy. Sherlock was scowling. Lestrade was grinning and Sally looked like she'd smelt something disgusting.

Shit kid. Didn't realise I already had a son till I lost you. Its strange isn't it? That you don't know how much you care about someone until they're gone. God I remember the first time we met. I arrested you, you were as high as a kite. So bloody young. You deduced the hell out of my life and the murder case I'd been working on. You kept hanging around crime scenes, putting in your two cents worth, until I finally told you, clean up or get out. You were less than impressed, said a few choice words you later regretted and then I punched your lights out.

From then on I think you respected me. Sort of. Doesn't matter. I knew you cared in your own little way. Just never knew you'd go so far as to give up your life to save mine. You were so young. Life is so cruel. Shit son.

To John,

Forgive me for not writing sooner. A lot of things have happened. Bad things, terrible things. I'm not sure if I should tell you, you don't really need to know. Plus I wish not to worry you. But something horrible happened to me and that is the reason for me not replying. Please forgive me.

I just, I can't talk to my family. I try to tell them but I can't get it out. Perhaps I am too stubborn. Perhaps I am just too afraid. They want to know what's happened, they guess much of it, but I just, I just can not say it. I am no longer the man I was. Worse still I fear I never will be again. It's like a piece of me is missing, floating just out of my reach. Every time I try to grab it, it moves further away.

What do I do? I feel lost. I feel broken. Please can you help me? You are a doctor, you were once a soldier. Did you ever have to look after Prisoners of War? I can not tell my brother, I can not tell my sister. Please, can you give me some advice? Will you do that for me?

Your worried friend,

Normund

P.S. I hope you received my package. I sent it awhile ago. Hope it arrived safely.

It had been only through constant pushing and prodding, that Sherlock had finally written to John. He didn't want to worry his friend. He was fearful he wouldn't even care. Even though he didn't know who the email was really from. What if John had forgotten him? What if he just didn't care anymore? He pushed this familiar fears aside. Mycroft was concerned that it would hurt John more if he didn't reply. Plus he felt there was only so much he could do when Sherlock felt it difficult to confide. The doctors had been to see him the day before, his physical injuries were healing slowly but the doctors were still pleased with his progress. They had advised Mycroft to give him time, not to pressure him too much. Mycroft suspected that Sherlock was trying to spare his brother the knowledge, but Mycroft had seen the wounds, the scars, he could make an estimated guess.

"Done?" His sibling nodded from his place on the couch. Mycroft sat in the opposite chair, Sherlock turned to lay on his side. "It was Moriarty wasn't it?" Sherlock yawned and raised a black eyebrow. "I thought you already knew" Mycroft shook his head. "I know he was involved. Did he take you?" Sherlock nodded, recalling clearly the night he was taken and thrown in a box. " Did you see him much?" This took longer to answer because Sherlock's memory on a lot of things were a bit sketchy. "A few times yes."

"Did he, torture you?" Sherlock visibly flinched and curled inwards. "Yes" he whispered. Mycroft sighed and poured himself a glass of water. "As I suspected. I wish to get my hands on him and.."

"And what?"

"Nothing you need to know. Well.. I don't often say this about people, dear brother. But I want that man dead. More than anything. And I will do whatever I can to make it happen. Mark my words." Sherlock nodded. He believed his brother. He wasn't one to lie. He'd have Moriarty killed.

"Mycroft?"

"Hmm?"

"I..I want to help"

"Help with what?" Not the killing, I don't want, can't have you near that man again.

"Taking down whats left of his web. I promise I won't leave London. But..I want to help"

"Far too dangerous. I won't allow it. You could be recognised"

"Please. I am good at disgusies and they expect me to be a broken mess." Which I am somewhat. "I want to help, not sit here and feel sorry for myself. Maybe it will help me. Don't make me beg, brother" Mycroft rubbed his temple. "Ill think about it. Alright?" His baby brother nodded. "Good. Now, please will you eat something. You're skin and bones Sherlock." The detecitve gave a resigned nod and his older brother rang a small bell. "Finally. Stubborness runs strong in your blood Sherlock. How like mother."

"I miss her" Sentiment.

"So do I. I miss them both"

"I don't"

"Sherlock!"

"He was horrible to me."

"But he loved you. He regretted his treatment of you. I know he did, he told me as such on his deathbed." Sherlock shrugged. His relationship with his father had always been strained. Especially after Mycroft left him to his mercy.

"Now eat up, or I'll make them hook you up to the IV again. I do not want you fainting anymore."

"You worry far too much than is healthy"

"Not my fault."

"Yes it is"

"Eat"

"I am eating"

"Good"