It was Tuesday around lunch time, almost exactly two years from their last meeting over a pot of tea, when Robert Bell met Sherlock Holmes again. Despite living for years in the city, this was the first time that he had come to the History of Science Museum. He had been having a correspondence with a historian who he had met over cheese dip at a local conference. She had talked of the problems of explaining the relevance of historical events in science when most people couldn't understand the science involved. Robert had been helping her with an exhibit on the discovery of gases. Today he brought some papers and photographs from the university archives that he thought that she might find interesting and relevant.

He entered the large lobby and for a moment he stood with his eyes closed listening to the echoes of visitor footfalls. He turned then to see a secondary school group enter the museum. They walked across the floor, their voices and footsteps raising the noise level in the lobby by several decibels. They traipsed by in identical colored coats like a school of brightly colored ocean fish. He lost interest and walked toward the receptionist's desk, waiting as the red-haired woman behind the desk talked on the phone. He thought that her yellow polka-dotted dress looked a bit old fashioned, but perhaps that was appropriate in a museum of history.

He turned then looking around the room and his eye was caught by a dark-haired teen who had strayed behind his class. He was leaning over the barrier attempting to touch an antique microscope. Robert was considering bringing this to the guard's attention when the boy turned, and he saw his face.

"Sherlock?" he said.

Despite the fact that he was on the other side of the room, the young man seemed to have heard him, because he turned to face Robert. His eyes narrowed and then widened, and his mouth fell open for a brief second before he closed it again adopting an expression of bored detachment. He rushed away then to catch up with his tour group.

Robert stared after him for a moment, surprised at the changes that only two years had made. Sherlock Holmes, for there was no one else it could be, was tall and whip thin. His face had become longer and his cheekbones more pronounced. He had a way of slouching while he stood that suggested that he was only biding his time until something interesting should come along. He had large feet and long legs that gave him the look of someone awkward and off balance, but he moved with a graceful loping walk that reminded Robert of a tiger strolling toward a kill.

The class rounded the corner then and he was gone. Robert considered for a moment going after them, but the receptionist hung up the phone so he smiled and said, "Good Afternoon, is Lucille Sharma here? Tell her that Robert Bell would like to speak with her if she has a moment."

"One moment, please," the receptionist said yawning before taking another phone call.

Robert placed the envelope with his research down on the desk and tapped his fingers impatiently. He was startled then to feel a tugging on the back of his coat. He turned to find himself looking into the blue-grey eyes of young Sherlock Holmes. It was a strange feeling not to have to look down at him anymore.

"Hello Sherlock," he said.

"Hello Dr. Bell."

"How did you know that I had received my doctorate?"

"It is a matter of public record. You aren't implying that I'm too young to read are you?"

Robert laughed, and the ghost of a smile appeared on Sherlock's face. Until then he had been keeping his face neutral. Now the edge of his lip turned up and his eyes shone. Robert reached out and held the boy's shoulders, debating with himself whether a hug would be in order, but the stiff way that Sherlock held himself suggested not. Robert gave his shoulder a pat instead and dropped his arms. "Good to see you again. You've grown. So, how have you been keeping yourself these days? "

"Fine," Sherlock said sheepishly.

"Dr. Bell?" the woman at the desk said finally. "Dr. Sharma has gone for the day. Do you have a message for her?"

"Yes, can you give her this when she gets in?"

"Sure."

"Good afternoon," he said, but she was already on the phone again.

Robert turned away from the desk to find Sherlock staring at him. He put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and led him away from the desk. "So aren't you supposed to be with your group?"

"I told the teacher I needed to go to the lavatory. It will be a while before they send someone looking for me. So what are you doing here? Dr. Sharma?"

"I was just helping out a colleague."

"Oh," Sherlock said.

"I miss you in lab. The students don't seem to want to put in any effort anymore. When you were in class, even the poor students would put in a bit extra effort so that no one would say that a kid did a better job than they did in lab."

"But I did do a better job than they did!"

"Of course you did. So, are you taking any science classes now?"

"None that you would call a science class."

"Well, what about your other classes? Which ones do you like?"

"At the moment, I can't think of any."

"Come now, there must be something about school that you like."

"I like how gullible the teachers are, and how easy it is to scale the wall."

"Sherlock, that's hardly the right attitude for a future scholar."

"I don't want to be a scholar."

"What? Are you going to go into government service then, like your brother?"

"Oh please don't bring him up. I've heard enough about my brother this year to make me fear for the future of this country. Oh, Mycroft's got another promotion! Why can't you be more like him? You need to make a good impression. You don't want to do anything that might harm his chances for advancement, like going to jail for shoplifting or for removing all of the nails from your stupid teacher's chair so that it collapses when he sits on it. No, I am definitely NOT going into government service, thank you. Not in this country at least."

"Shoplifting?"

"It was nothing. I was only practicing."

"Practicing what?"

"My pirate skills. Never know when they'll come in useful. Piracy used to be a respected profession for an Englishman. They knew how to steal, how to box, and fence, and shoot a pistol. My parents wanted me to have a classical education. I'm just trying to make it more ... authentic."

A woman rushed into the room then and looked around. Sherlock rolled his eyes as she stomped over toward them. "Mr Holmes, I've told you about going off on your own."

"Excuse me Miss..."

"Holland." The woman said noticing Robert for the first time. "I'm sorry if our student was disturbing you."

"Oh No, Miss Holland, he wasn't disturbing me. In fact, it is my fault that he did not return to his class. Let me introduce myself. I am Dr Bell, lecturer in Chemistry at the University. Sherlock here used to be my star pupil. When I saw him, I had to stop him in order to catch up. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get him into trouble."

"Why, Dr Bell. So glad to meet you. I understand if you wanted to catch up, of course. It's just that Sherlock here sometimes... but that's not important. It is so nice to meet such a distinguished academic here. I would love it if you might consider visiting our school on career day. Do you mind if I ask for your contact information."

Robert reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a card. He had ordered them the day after Lucy Sharma had asked him for one, and he was very proud of them because they were the first thing that had been printed with his new title on it.

She looked impressed. "Oh! Well I will certainly call you. Thank You. Sherlock, come along." Then she turned away. Robert slipped another card to Sherlock who hid it in his blazer pocket before following the teacher back out of the room with only one backward glance.