My surprise must have shown on my face when I opened the door, because the Doctor hesitated. "Is something the matter?" He asked, after a second, worry clouding his features.
"No." I managed. Then I smiled. "I just thought you might have other plans for today." After all, though it had somehow become a regular occurrence, there had never really been any discussion or agreement that he would join us for dinner every week.
An eyebrow went up. "It would be the height of rudeness to miss, but especially to cancel on such short notice." He quipped. Then he smirked. "Present company excluded, of course."
"Thanks." I returned, still slightly uneasy at his presence, though I should not have been. "Good to know you don't hold last week against me."
"Well, if your wife didn't fault you for bleeding all over the tablecloth, why should I?" He asked courteously as I backed up to let him in. "How's your arm?"
I favored him with a baleful look as I took his hat and coat. "Can you at least wait until you've made it through the door before asking? Just once?"
"I did make it through the door, Lestrade." The Doctor informed me with authority. "The hall is definitely past the door."
I pretended to study the hall for a moment. "Imagine that." I offered. "Who would've thought?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. He was also, however, not to be distracted. "Well?" He asked.
I groaned and resigned myself to answering his question, and then to being poked and prodded. For whatever reason, I found I didn't mind so much today.
Not that I would let him know that.
Author's note: And this is the end, I suppose, of this story, though there are a few things that still need worked out among Lestrade, Watson, and Holmes. That, however, is another story...
Disclaimer: Sherlock and the boys do not belong to me.