"You shouldn't be up!" I heard Elisabeth from downstairs. "I don't care if the Queen of England needs your help, I'm tired of you going off half well and coming back home half dead!"
Olivia was studiously pouring over the book I had left her. Amy looked up at the ceiling. "She's trying to ignore them." She explained, nodding towards her sister. "You'd better go keep Ma from killing him."
I went up the stairs and paused in the open doorway. Lestrade was up, barely, and leaning against the wall while his wife laced up his shoes. His face was pale, and he looked ready to drop any second.
"Gregson sent that message, Lizzie." He managed. "He wouldn't have sent it if it weren't urgent."
"You haven't been out of bed since you were injured." The woman protested. All the same, she was undoing the bandages that held his arm against his arm. She helped him into his shirt and buttoned it up. His jacket was next. "Tell Giles he's being an idiot, Doctor."
"You really shouldn't be up." I said sternly.
Lestrade sighed. "I know. But Gregson sent a telegraph saying they needed me down at the Yard, and he knows I shouldn't be up."
"And he sent the message anyway." I realized. "I will escort you there."
The man actually looked grateful. His wife looked resigned. "I'm binding your arm back up." She informed him, and he didn't argue. Then she stopped and looked at him.
"Come back." She finally said, and pulled him into a hug. I stepped back into the hall to give them some privacy.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.