Author's Note: Alright, final part of this story. It takes place after the start of BW&LM, I'm sure you'll able to place it. There's that plot bunny dead! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own.

Rose hopped to Hyde Park for one last, solitary ramble in the green space before she left. She had a feeling that the peace and quiet would be something of a mystery for a while, what with all the Doctor saving she had to do. She only made it a few steps into the park, gently lit by a golden, fading sunset, before she heard her name called out.

"Miss Tyler?" The voice was curious and imperious, a tone only one person she knew could make.

Rose focused her eyes on Sherlock Holmes. He stood beside John Watson in the growing dusk and stared at her with frank intensity.

"Mr. Holmes." She replied with a smile. The Doctor, when she made it back to him, would love to hear about the real life adventures of Sherlock Holmes. She walked merrily over to the pair of men and leaned on the rail next to them. "Beautiful evening, isn't it? I've never quite gotten used to the way the sun reflects on the zeppelins."

Sherlock studied her. "You're different, something's changed."

Rose laughed. Yes, the whole shape of the world seemed to have changed since she'd last spoken with the detective.

"Do you wear contacts?" Mr. Holmes asked.

"What?" Rose's forehead scrunched up as she tried to piece together where he was going with that. "No, perfect eyesight, me."

"Your eyes are a different color."

Rose stilled. That was true enough. Since unlocking the heart of the Tardis in her mind, the deep brown of her eyes had been lightening to a shade rather closer to gold. "They do that." She said finally.

"And," Dr. Watson broke in, "You're happier."

"Give the man a medal." Rose gave him a grin instead, her tongue caught between her teeth. "Can I just say, I loved it, meeting you two. It's been really, really brilliant."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Where did you come from?"

"What?"

"I was looking down that road. One moment you weren't there, the next moment you were."

Rose bit her lower lip. "Well, you're not exactly known for being perceptive."

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply acidly before her recognized the glint in the corner of her eye. She was teasing him. His mouth stayed open.

"Don't you forget me, Sherlock Holmes." She straightened once more and walked into the park. Over one shoulder, she threw out a goodbye to the stunned men.

It was a few weeks before the papers realized they hadn't seen Rose Tyler for a while. The Vitex heiress was so good at avoiding the paparazzi that at first it didn't seem she was gone at all. Then the headlines hit. Sherlock spread out copies of the tabloids running the stories and studied them. Rose Tyler, Vanished Again?, Where Is She Now?, Done a Bunk?, Gone-with-the-Wind Tyler Gone Again. Unlike the preceding few times this had happened, the young blond hadn't reappeared after a few days. She was absent from the political galas and social functions that appeared on the covers of glossy magazines next to the checkouts. And Sherlock, though curious as ever, found himself unsurprised. The tone of her voice the last time she spoke with him, it had been saying goodbye. The Tylers, when asked, replied that their daughter was traveling abroad. An anonymous source inside Torchwood confided to the papers that Rose had resigned and it was 'the biggest shock any of them ever had'. Still, the conspiracy theories abounded. There were those who held she'd been kidnapped by aliens, others that she was kidnapped by business rivals. A few people believed Pete and Jackie discovered she wasn't really their daughter and had her relocated, or even killed.

Sherlock, who was doing his best to stop making any guesses about Rose Tyler, knew that it was voluntary. She was gone and she was happy about it.

Two years later, with no one any the wiser about where Rose Tyler was, Britain was rocked by the disappearance of the entire Tyler family and, though he didn't get as much publicity, Richard 'Mickey' Smith, a noted good friend of the family's. Lestrade actually called Sherlock in to consult on the case. It was high profile, as many were calling for Pete Tyler to run for president. The results were that no foul play was suspected, but no one knew where they were, either. Sherlock even checked with Mycroft, who assured his brother that none of the Tylers left the country by any legal means. The Tylers' finances had been reduced in the last few months leading to their disappearance; they'd purchased a number of high end paintings, none of which were found. Sherlock noted a number of other things missing as well. Many photo frames hung empty on the walls, closets and dressers were half full, and there was a distinct lack of toys in young Tony's room. The last will and testament of Peter and Jaqueline Tyler had been modified only months before. Should something happen to the entire family, it read, Jacob Simmons was to act as the executor of the estate. Aside from a substantial provision for him, the remainder of the Tyler family fortune was to go to inner city youth to help further their education. Sherlock strongly suspected that Simmons, who rose in Torchwood ranks again after Pete's absence from the director position, knew more than he was saying about the situation. He did find, however, that Rose Tyler had been back to visit only a few weeks before the rest of the family disappeared. Jackie hosted a party and he found a few of the guests that would talk to him.

"She looked tired, like exhausted, and too thin, but happy. So happy." One woman told him.

Five years later, Sherlock stopped outside a bookstore window. He left the store with a book under his arm and returned to his flat, forgetting entirely the case that brought him outside in the first place. The picture on the front cover was of a laughing, honey-eyed blond girl with a redheaded boy on her lap and their parents leaning in around them. A History of Britain's Favorite Family by Lucy Miller, Torchwood Agent.

It had been a trying five years for planet earth. Enough foiled invasions and attacks from extraterrestrials had been sufficiently visible for all but the ostriches, with their heads stuck in the sand, to admit the existence of aliens. Torchwood grew more public and prevalent as the years went on. Reading it, Sherlock learned that the move to bring Torchwood into the open was due to Pete Tyler's pushing. The man seemed a saint, according to the book.

Growling, Sherlock checked the table of contents and discovered that Rose didn't even appear until halfway through the history.

Hours later, Sherlock was forced to conclude that no one would ever give him enough information to discover Rose Tyler's secrets. Though it went contrary to every fiber of his insatiably curious being, he was oddly fine with that.