PS. I've been back to reread this a zillion times. It's so good.

And it took me a laughably long time - because, I think, I was so focused on Lestrade and his utter exhaustion and shock - to realize that Mycroft's hand is twitching because he forgot his umbrella. Now that's distraught. In Mycroft-speak, that's like screaming at the top of your lungs. Poor, poor Mycroft. I'm so glad they have each other, there in that waiting room, even if they don't say another thing to each other the whole time.

*hugs you and your brilliant story*