Detectives Greg Lestrade and June Merivale stood watching their teenage suspect through the viewing-room glass. Caitlin was seated at the bolted-down table with Pam Greer on one side and her mother, Karen, on the other. The two older women seemed to be exchanging meaningless pleasantries, but Caitlin was staring at the far wall. Every now and again the fingers of her left hand crept to the soft joints of her right shoulder, but aside from the occasional blink and the soft rise and fall of her chest, that was all.

"Is she injured?" Lestrade asked. It wouldn't be the first time John Watson had laid into a suspect, but at least in this case he had a more than adequate excuse. But June shook her head.

"The medical officer says she's okay - pulled a muscle, if that. Still, she's got me wondering about her mental state, and I'm certain Pam's going to bring it up. She looks like she's away with the fairies. I doubt she'll say much."

"I doubt it, too." Lestrade folded his arms, awkwardly shifting his weight to his heels. It had been one hell of a long day. "Which suits me fine, if I'm honest. We've got enough evidence without her talking, and if she does talk, I don't want any blowback from her defence team about us bullying anything out of her."

"About me bullying anything out of her," Merivale corrected him. "I'm just waiting on Draper now. You're forgetting the bit where she dumped a live snake in your car, Greg. That and her taking out half your team, you know. No way in hell would it pass in court if your name came up as one of the interviewing officers."

Karen Trent, formerly Karen Hope, got up stiffly from the chair beside her daughter and muttered something inaudible to her. Caitlin made no response. Karen paused for a few seconds longer, then made her way out to the foyer. Through the glass panel of the viewing-room door, they saw her look around in confusion. Merivale opened the door, and she turned.

"Sorry," she said, wiping her careworn eyes with the back of her hand. "Is there anywhere I could get a cup of coffee before we start…?"

"Absolutely - it's all right, I'll go and get it for you," Merivale said. "Any sugar?"

Karen shook her head, and Merivale, with a glance at Lestrade, clipped her way down the corridor toward the front desk and the kitchenette behind it.

"How's your son?" Lestrade asked Karen, once the sound of Merivale's footsteps had died away.

"No change," she said drearily. "How's yours?"

Lestrade looked through the glass door panel to where Matthew sat huddled in one of the plastic chairs against the wall, knees up, playing with his phone. After the embarrassing display of affection at the Watson's house, both he and Melissa had been careful to keep their distance. Melissa sat three chairs down from Matthew, pretending to be absorbed in the state of her fingernails.

"About the same," he said.

"I'm so sorry. I know it doesn't even begin to make up for what happened, but I've managed to leave eight dead people in my wake, and -"

"You didn't do any of that," he told her. "Your husband started it. Your kids finished it."

Karen glanced up at the overhead air conditioning vent. "You know why he did it, don't you?" she said. "Why Jeff killed all those people. I left him."

Lestrade snorted. "I'm sure he wasn't a fine, upstanding citizen before you left him," he said, "or you wouldn't have done it."

She made a non-commital sort of murmur, and they watched in silence as Pam tried to get Caitlin's attention. The girl wasn't catatonic - even Greg Lestrade, with no medical background, knew those signs - but Merivale's instincts had probably been right. He wasn't going to miss much by not sitting in on that interview.

"When I first joined the force," he said carefully, keeping his eyes on Caitlin, "straight out of school, before I was a detective. My first post was in Bristol. Every single weekend we'd be out at someone's house, one of them, usually the wife, with a black eye. And every weekend we'd hear the same thing, and it used to drive us crazy: But I love him."

"Oh," she exclaimed, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her lift her hand to her face. "Oh, you've got the wrong idea about that - I mean, no, Jeff never hit me, no." She sniffled. "But he was… he got mean. I don't know if it was his health… they said the aneurysm, where it was sitting on his brain, it could have drastically changed his personality. He got it into his head that he was a genius, and I was just a medical secretary who was beneath him."

"I doubt that's true."

She shrugged. "He wasn't very well educated - barely got his GCSEs. But he read a lot, and he liked libraries. I'm not much of a reader. First he'd start asking me things like 'What's the capital of Guam?' or 'What's the periodic symbol for antimony?' and making fun of me because of course, I didn't know. But then he started… oh, I don't know..." He saw another movement, as if she'd raised her hands to her face again. "This is going to sound crazy... for a long time I thought I was actually going crazy. He started doing things, just little petty things, like confiscating my keys when I needed to go to work. He'd tell me if I was smarter, I'd know how he thought, and I could work out where he'd put them. I'd beg him to just tell me… and eventually I got fired for being late too many times. It was so stupid, nobody would have believed me. He'd get angry if I hadn't memorised the groceries I'd bought and how much I'd paid for each item. I stayed with him for so long… it.. it seemed so cruel to leave him when he was sick. And besides, I thought he'd have to hit me to be abusive."

Lestrade nodded. "I believe you," he said. "It also drives us crazy when we know someone's doing a number on his wife like that, and we can't touch the bastard until he actually touches her."

"The kids didn't understand. They didn't see a lot of it… Jeff didn't play games with them like he did with me. I think Edward actually hates me for what I did."

Edward. Karen wasn't using her children's birth names, which Lestrade had only just learned were James and Megan. He opened his mouth to tell her how sure he was that Edward-James didn't actually hate his mother, then stopped. The kid was probably a genuine psychopath who really did hate her, and in any case, it didn't seem like there was any love lost on her side of things either. "You've got another son, though?" he ventured.

Karen nodded. "William," she said. "He's Robert's, not Jeff's. He's with his father."

"Well, he hasn't done anything wrong, has he? You've still got him."

She nodded again and glanced over his shoulder. Merivale was on her way back, juggling three coffees - Lestrade assumed the third was for Pam, since Merivale made a point of not making coffee for suspects she was really pissed off with. She gingerly handed Karen one of the hot Styrofoam cups. "Okay," she said. "Are you ready to do this?"

"No."

Merivale smiled wearily. "Neither am I," she said. "But I think we have to. Any time you want a break, to get a cup of coffee or go for a walk, just speak up, okay? We're not in a rush, but this really does need to be done tonight."

They went into the interview room together, and after listening through the intercom system to the boring preliminaries and the first three of Caitlin's I choose not to answer that question s, Lestrade went back to where Matthew was still playing with his phone. He glanced at Melissa, who got up and moved away, muttering something about desperately needing chocolate.

"Good game?" he finally asked.

Matthew shrugged, but he took the hint and turned the game off.

"Listen, um," Greg said. "You know I'm not angry at you about the… video you made, right? Of Celeste. Calm down, I didn't watch it. But I got the idea."

"Okay." Matthew reached down and tweaked at a piece of rubber that was hanging off the sole of his trainers.

"You and Celeste," he continued. "I didn't realise you were… that involved with her. In that way." He cleared his throat. "That day… I mean, when you were with Celeste at the castle, before it all went to shit. Was it good?"

Matthew squinted at him in confusion. "Dad," he said, "are you asking me if having sex with Celeste was good?"

"… Yeah, I guess I am."

"Yeah, I guess it was."

"Right. Well, um, hold onto that, Matty. For a while you two had something between you, and it was good. I'm just sorry it ended like it did, but that wasn't your fault."

"If I'd just realised who it was earlier," Matthew said. "Celeste knew…"

"I think Celeste definitely suspected, once she read your book and started to connect the dots with Edward and Caitlin. That's why they… needed to do what they did."

"Needed?"

"Okay, poor choice of words. My point is, how were you to know? You're not Sherlock Holmes. You'd never met them before, or their dad. They could have been anybody."

"Yeah," Matthew said, wincing. "But Dad, if I'd known. If I hadn't run away… if I'd been around for you to ask me… maybe I'd have known quicker. Maybe people wouldn't have died."

Lestrade pondered this. "Maybe," he conceded. "But you start thinking 'if I'd only done something differently, this wouldn't have happened' and you'll send yourself around the bend, kid. I mean, technically speaking if I hadn't cheated on Tilly Warmund at her brother's twenty-first, you wouldn't have been born. Good thing for you. Not such a good thing for Tilly."

Matthew gave him a horrified look. "Can we not talk about your sex life?"

"I'm completely fine with not talking about my sex life."

Matthew looked up at the same air vent that had seemed to fascinate Karen Trent, though Lestrade couldn't see what the appeal was. "Mum's not here yet," he said. "She said she was coming…"

"She'll be along. She's probably still waking up."

"It's only ten o'clock."

"Yeah, but she's been on medication. Mark says she's been in bed most of the last couple of days." He paused. "Do you… like… Mark?"

Matthew shrugged. "He's okay," he said. "I don't really think anything about him. It's hard to think anything about Mark. He's boring."

"But he's okay?"

"Dad, he's okay and he's okay because he's boring."

"Okay, fine, jeez." Before Greg could roll his eyes, he heard a sharp cry in the direction of the front lobby and looked up. Julie had arrived - and she was trailed by his mother and both his sisters. With another pained glance at Matthew, he got to his feet. It looked as if both of them had some explaining to do.

Charlie had flung both arms above her head and managed to wriggle her way to the very edge of the mattress of Sherlock's bed. John shifted her closer to Molly without waking either of them, then crept out and shut the door softly behind him. He went out to the living room, just as Sherlock, carrying Casper in crate, reached the landing. "Asleep," he said quietly.

Sherlock set the crate down on the floor and a heavy plastic shopping bag on the kitchen table. Toby had already been brought up the stairs and made himself at home on the arm of the old patched armchair, but Smudge, who had been on the landing, began sniffing at the crate mesh. Sherlock opened it and Casper tore out of it like a bat out of hell, Smudge in close pursuit. He watched them zoom out the living-room door in some bewilderment.

"Did I just lose your cat?"

"Doubt it. The front door's shut, right? He'll be back when he wants to be fed." John took a breath and dropped wearily into the armchair, glancing over his shoulder toward the bedroom doorway and then reaching out to scritch Toby's furry head. "Well, that was… quite a day."

Without replying, Sherlock got up and went into the kitchen, putting the kettle on. He had made John Watson exactly three cups of tea in his life before. It was only when he'd brought the fourth to him that he realised neither of them had spoken in nearly five minutes. He frowned. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"… Yeah," John said vaguely, taking the hot cup from him. "Yeah, fine. Just a bit… awake, that's all."

Sherlock sank down into his own chair. "Oh, don't pretend you weren't enjoying that," he said. "Playing the hero, saving the day, defeating the villains."

"I was enjoying it, a bit," John admitted, trying to smother a grin and not succeeding. "After Molly and Charlie left, anyway. Tell you what, though, nothing takes ten years off your life like seeing a crossbow aimed at your kid."

"I can imagine."

"No, you can't."

Sherlock considered this for a moment. "No, you're right, I can't," he agreed.

"I'm just glad she had no idea what was going on…" John paused. From the bedroom down the hall they both heard a light little murmur. Obviously Molly and her lifelong habit of talking in her sleep, but John motioned for Sherlock to be quiet while he listened. Finally he released a breath. "Thanks for letting us stay here, anyway," he went on. "We'll only be a couple of nights. Three at most."

"Well, there's no rush," Sherlock said. "Mrs Hudson's judgment was lacking when she left the flats to me and not you. I'm going to inherit both Linwood and the Chelsea Harbour penthouse, provided Mycroft doesn't do something inconvenient, like outlive me." He paused. "Though now I'll need to change my own will, to accommodate..."

"… Oh." John looked pensive. "Listen, Sherlock," he said. "We, um. We're not exactly thrilled about the idea of twins, put it that way."

"Yes, I observed as much."

John looked surprised. "Really?" he said. "What did you observe this time?"

Sherlock hesitated, as if aware, for once, that he was wading into potentially dangerous waters. "When you first showed me that ultrasound scan, I said these words exactly: What the hell is that? And you said: That's exactly what I said. You didn't sound as if you were joking. And what the hell is that is an odd thing for an expectant father to say on realising his wife is having twins."

John's face twitched. "Yeah, that wasn't my finest moment - it was a bit of a shock. We didn't want three kids. We did a lot of talking before deciding we were going to have one more."

"Enlighten me," Sherlock said. "Is it medically possible to conceive twins on purpose, outside of a test tube?"

John shrugged. "Point," he said. "I know, it's an awful thing to say. We'll probably be thrilled in six months, but in the meantime… lots of changes. I'll have to go back to work, at least part time. Molly's taking a year off, if she can stand it. You remember what happened last time."

"Yes."

"New house. New car - ours won't fit three car seats. With the money from the sale of Dad's place, the resale of our place and the money from Mrs Hudson's will, we won't exactly be in rags, but it'll be tight for a few years." He paused. "Bit - scared, actually."

Sherlock stared at him. "You're a war veteran," he said. "You just swallowed poison without even flinching. And you're scared of having three children?"

"Sherlock, no offence, but I'm not sure you're the right person to be having this conversation with me. And don't you dare send Greg to do it, either. He's got enough going on right now."

Sherlock continued to look innocent, as if he'd never recruited Greg Lestrade to do any of his emotional heavy lifting before. "Anyhow," he said. "Put the house on the market immediately and stay here until you find another. Move in whatever furniture you want to keep - both the other flats are empty. You won't be inconveniencing me. I'm hardly ever here, and I'm going to be away for the next few days."

"Oh?"

"I've had a case proposition. Berlin. I'm flying out tomorrow night."

"Berlin," John mused. "Is that where-"

"Yes."

"Are you -"

"No."

"Ah. Okay."

After a long pause, Sherlock rattled off, "Ordinary case, really. Not worth your time. The CEO of the DZ Bank suspects one of his employees is embezzling company funds, but wants confirmation before firing people and laying charges."

"So you did get the case from Christabel."

"… I'm sorry?"

"Well, she works there in Human Resources, doesn't she? Bit hard to believe you'd get a case from the CEO and your sister-"

"Half-sister-"

"Half-sister, then. Her boss just happened to contact you behind her back, did he?"

"… Shut up."

John did shut up, sipping at his tea for a couple of minutes while Sherlock pulled out the phone that had saved both of them from many an awkward conversation. When Sherlock didn't start up on another subject, he got up. "Well," he said, draining the last of his tea. "I'm going to turn in. If you're taking on another case, you need a decent night's sleep too. Which won't be easy, on that mattress. Best of luck."

"Don't be ridiculous." Sherlock threw his phone restlessly aside and glanced at the Stradivarius, visibly flinching as he apparently realised he couldn't play it all night with a house full of guests. "I'm hardly going to make you sleep up there while I get into bed with your wife. You've always been generous to a fault, but there's such a thing as being too generous."

"It's not as fun as it sounds, when you're in bed with Charlie as well," John said. "She's not toilet trained. We might have to buy you a new mattress."

Sherlock pulled a face, but nobly made no protest. John scratched the back of his head and looked around, as if he'd lost something. "Don't - don't abandon me, Sherlock," he finally said, without looking at him. "Just 'cause… you know."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm sure it's possible for you to assist a detective while raising a family," he said. "In fact, in your case, I suspect it's necessary."

They were both silent.

"Is this the bit where we hug, or something?" Sherlock eventually asked.

John appeared to give this some serious thought. "Um. Let's just go with a handshake, yeah?"

Sherlock got up and obliged - offering, by way of a bonus, an awkward slap to John's shoulder at the last second. "Sleep, er, well," he said. "You know where everything is. And stay out of the top two drawers in the wardrobe."

"I don't even want to know." John sighed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Oh, and John-"

"Hmm?" John paused in the kitchen doorway.

"Don't have sex in my bed."

John had to come up with a spur-of-the-moment excuse when, the following morning, Molly asked, "I heard you and Sherlock laughing just before you came to bed. What was that all about? Some man-thing I wouldn't understand, I suppose!"

A/N: Thank you for reading/following/faving/reviewing. :) The next fic in the series is "The Case of the Marie Celeste" available on my profile. Thanks! xx