It had been two months since Sherlock had jumped from the rooftop of Barts, two months since Greg had arrived at 221B to arrest the great detective, two months since John had said goodbye to Sherlock at the cemetery. During those two months, the doctor's anger with Greg had only grown.

When John stepped off the lift at NSY and headed towards Greg's office, silence followed in his wake. Sally moved to intercept him, but one sharp glare from the former army captain froze her where she stood. He stepped into the DI's office and pushed the door roughly shut.

Greg looked up and, much to his credit, didn't blanch. He stood, noting John's balled fists. "I wondered how long it would be before we had this out. Do you want to talk or punch me then talk?"

"You sorry... You called yourself his friend. I actually believed you cared about him!" John turned and faced away from Greg lest he give in to the urge to pummel him into the floor. "How could you show up like you did to arrest him. You betrayed him. Do you know how much that had to hurt him?"

"It didn't hurt him at all," Greg said calmly. "Sherlock, of all people, understood exactly what I was trying to do. If you would stop and think for a minute, John, you would too. Please..."

The doctor whirled around. "What?! What were you trying to do?! It looked pretty clear to me. You were arresting him! You didn't even try to stop it from happening!"

Lestrade sighed and collapsed into his chair. "Let's pretend I refused to go to the superintendent with Sally's suspicions. She would have gone over my head and done it anyway. That would have meant that Sally or Gregson or any of a number of people that hated Sherlock and believed the lies would have arrested him. How would they have treated him, John? With courtesy? With kindness?" Greg rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I could at least be the one to make the arrest and see that he was treated decently."

Silence filled the DI's office for quite sone time, then, slowly, John's sboulders began to shake as, for the first time, he allowed himself to cry. Greg didn't say anything, just let his friend deal with his emotions, grateful that the blinds were closed.

The doctor wiped his eyes, then looked at Lestrade. "I understand." He took a deep breath. "Thank you for that."

Greg shifted uncomfortably. "You're welcome. I did what I could. Maybe... I haven't really had the chance to talk to anyone about losing him. No one here wants to listen and my wife..." He stood up. "If you'll go to the pub with me, I'll take the rest of the day off."

"I haven't talked about it... him either. Yeah." John nodded. "That would be good."