Lestrade sighed, depressed. He straightened his tie and wiped the tears away. He couldn't handle this, he really couldn't. Sue was leaving him. The divorce was final and the children were leaving. He really didn't need this in the middle of such an important case, but then again, that was one of the complaints leveled against him. He was having an affair with his job. He hadn't played football with the kids in months. He'd tried to take a holiday, but he couldn't keep his mind off of work. Between that and the fact that he was spending far more time at Scotland Yard than was probably healthy, Sue decided that she couldn't put up with it. The two a.m. phone calls from Sherlock Holmes didn't help either.

"Daddy, what does divorce mean?" The sweet voice of his youngest daughter, Melody, made Lestrade have even more trouble keeping his tears in check.

"It means that mommy and I will be living apart."

"Why?"

Lestrade choked slightly. She was only five. She shouldn't have to learn this now. Or ever. He swallowed and decided not to lie to her.

"Mommy and I have learned that we work better by ourselves."

Now Melody was crying. "You don't want Karen or Scott or Richard or Rachel or me?"

Lestrade hugged her. "Oh, sweetie, don't say that. Of course we love you. Of course we want you. Mommy and I just need some time apart. I'll still visit you. I'll always love—" He broke down into sobbing now. Just then, the other children came in the door. Teenage Karen, for once not looking at her phone. Brainiac Scott, failing to be impassive like the Vulcans he so idolized. The twins, Richard and Rachel, not sure what to do. And then all at once, they hugged their father in a massive group hug, which both made the pain go away and redoubled it. He couldn't let this moment end, when all his children loved him most, too scared to let go.