==Chapter 3==

A New Hope

But things work out, you know? Even if it doesn't feel okay for a long time, or even if it feels like things will never be okay again, everything works out in the end.

– Lauren Morrill, Meant to Be

Beth was beginning to stir as Holmes re-entered the bedroom; he quickly disrobed and climbed back into bed, suddenly needing very badly to have her in his arms again. The temptation to take a detour on his way to the kitchen had been awful...

Beth rose slowly, lazily, to wakefulness, feeling warmer and better-rested than she had in a very long time. It was a movement, a shifting, that brought her to full consciousness, and she opened her eyes. "Sherlock...?"

He snuggled closer, embracing her gratefully. "Good morning."

"Morning…" She reached up to touch his hair and frowned at what she felt. "'S damp."

Holmes nodded, biting his lip. "I just had another shower. I... didn't think you'd want me coming back to bed smelling of smoke." And despite remaining upwind of the fire, he hated to think what else he must have been smelling of by the time the Doctor had deemed it safe to leave the remains of the pyre unguarded.

Her frowned deepened. "Smoke?" Why... smoke... surely he wasn't smoking again—she didn't think he'd had the chance to do it for a long time now.

"Yes..." He prayed she'd be all right hearing this. "Sweetheart, Time Lords are cremated when they die... and since Moriarty essentially was one when you shot him..."

She blinked, more awake at the Professor's name. "Oh."

He gently stroked her cheek, expression apologetic. "I had the feeling you'd prefer to sleep."

She leaned into his touch, eyes closing, savouring it. His touch was incredibly sweet and tender. "Mm-hmm..."

Should he tell her...? Well, her hopes can't sink much lower, you idiot, it could hardly hurt to raise them! "I talked with the Doctor, cherie... about us."

Her eyes opened wide then. "Yes?"

"He didn't say anything specific," Holmes hastened to add, "just that he's working on it – and he'd rather we didn't get our hopes up too high as yet..." He allowed himself a faint smile. "But the mere fact that he hasn't said 'no' outright makes me think that he can see a way forward."

She covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. It's too much to hope for, you can't possibly let yourself hope, it's too much... But I need to... She hugged him suddenly and tightly, her heart too full of hope and terror to speak.

He hugged her back, kissing her cheek, relieved beyond words to see a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. Please, God, let that light never go out again...

She pulled back slightly, enough to look him in the eye again. "Sherlock," she breathed, "do you really think the Doctor can do something about… for… us?"

Holmes nodded, smile widening. "Well, we are talking about the master of the last-minute miracle here. But whatever happens..."

She chewed back her lips as his tone sobered, raised her eyebrows questioningly.

He nuzzled her. "Beth, I've been such a fool. No matter what happens to us, dearest, wherever we go from here... I do still want us to be officially wed." To stand before family and friends, vowing to be hers for as long as he lived... Suddenly those old and sentimental traditions no longer seemed quite so redundant.

She smiled, heart leaping, eyes shining. But she couldn't resist murmuring, "Do you honestly think I would have let you get away with not marrying me officially?" No chance of that, no matter what happened!

"No," he grinned – as if he didn't know full well that she desired it as much as he did. "Oh, speaking of which... I had a thought about who else to invite." She lifted a hand to his hair again and hummed encouragingly. "How would you feel about accompanying me to Scotland Yard this morning?"

She began to stroke his hair as he spoke. "I would love to." She tilted her head, having a feeling they were going to be delivering an invite as well as a report.

He hummed softly at her touch. "Even if we can't tell the Inspector who you really are, I thought you might like to have him attend the wedding, at least." And he, in turn, was going to immensely enjoy the look on Lestrade's face...

She smiled sadly and nodded—she wanted to tell her own several-times-great grandfather exactly who she was, and she wanted to get to know him better... "I would like that," she said softly.

"And you can meet your future brother-in-law –" He kissed her, grinning wryly; "again. Mycroft and Lestrade need to be updated on how the case is progressing."

She smiled more fully again. "I would really like tha… wait a minute. I get how Mycroft would be my future brother-in-law, but we are married right now, so what would Mycroft be to me?"

Holmes blinked, then laughed. "I don't know! 'Brother-in-common-law' just doesn't sound right, does it?"

She giggled and shook her head. "No! I can't think of a single thing that does!"

His heart grew light as she laughed with him; after all of her tears, he thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He kissed her again, just as another noise intruded: blast, his stomach clearly thought the popcorn hadn't been enough. "No one asked your opinion, sir," he told it sternly.

She giggled again and fluffed his hair. "D'aww. Sounds like somebody needs breakfast."

"Mm..." He really didn't want to get up again so soon, but the TARDIS drew the line at serving breakfast in bed. "Care to join me?"

Smiling, she pushed herself up on one elbow. "Mm, in a minute…" She kissed him softly, caressingly. Just now, the world didn't look so bleak.


The breakfast table at 221B was the most laden it had ever been – it rather had to be, with half a dozen adults and one infant all crowded around it! Mrs. Hudson, of course, was in her element, piling people's plates high and tutting over how thin everyone still was, particularly Holmes and the Doctor. Holmes bore the fussing as best he could – it helped that he was actually able to do justice to his share of the food, for a change – and pointedly ignored Watson's smile of approval as his friend tucked into a large bowl of porridge with cream. The coffee pot sat well out of reach, Watson sternly informing the dismayed detective before breakfast that he couldn't have any caffeine until he had regained some weight and was sleeping regularly again. Beth had nudged him in sympathy, then taken pity on him by requesting tea for herself as well.

George came in a minute later with another dish of bacon, having insisted on helping to cook the extra breakfast. He was relieved of his burden by Mrs. Hudson and told in no uncertain terms to sit down, meekly taking the window seat and balancing his plate on his knees.

As a new mother, Sally was certainly doing her breakfast justice—just the ability to eat as much as she wanted, fresh and hot and delicious, and not needing to worry about anyone else not having enough seemed like a luxury! Even the Doctor was managing pretty well, helped along by the fact that Mrs. Hudson wouldn't quit hovering.

But despite her horribly empty stomach, Beth found that she could not eat very much—too tense, waiting for a chance to talk with the Doctor. He noticed her hesitance, and cast his mind about for a way to get that chance. He caught Sherlock's eye, then glanced first at Beth and then at Mrs. Hudson.

Before Holmes could open his mouth, however, Nikola intervened, trying something new: intruding a faint smell of burning on Mrs. Hudson's senses as he sniffed the air himself. "George, did you remember to take the frying pan off the range?"

George was sharp enough to look guiltily uncertain, starting to rise. Mrs. Hudson tsked, shook her head at him and hastened out of the room.

The Doctor grinned and nodded at Nikola—not bad at all. Then, sobering, he cleared his throat and turned to Beth. "So... Sherlock told you what I told him last night, right?"

Beth nodded, apprehension knotting her stomach. Across the table, Sally looked as anxious as she felt, and it made her feel ever so slightly better.

"Beth, relax, it's okay," the Doctor continued gently. "Look, there are some things about yourself and Sherlock and Moriarty that you guys should know."

Holmes pricked up his ears, laying down his fork to take Beth's hand in his, as much for his own moral support as for hers. The Doctor's reassurance didn't quite match his expression... and whatever solution the Time Lord had come up with, there would almost certainly be a catch.

"The TARDIS doesn't pick times and places at random," the Doctor went on, gesturing with his fork—"she always takes me where I need to be." He nodded to Sherlock. "Tibet 1893… New Earth, five billion years from now… Niagara Falls, last spring… Michigan, 2093. She has also, for a while now, been choosing Companions: she chose Sherlock and John when I needed them badly, and she also chose this scared but brilliant kid. She wouldn't have landed near an American high school, otherwise." It turned out that the TARDIS felt a kind of responsibility for timelines, herself—the Doctor had been having a long conversation with her the night before, as well.

Beth blushed and averted her gaze. Brilliant, she most certainly did not deserve, except ironically...

Holmes squeezed her hand gently, noticing that Watson was wearing the same proud smile as he was; the doctor's gaze then shifted to Sally, his train of thought apparent.

"So now the thing is, you three—" the Doctor indicated Sherlock, Beth, and John—"are temporally significant. Sally, you are, too, but not for the same reasons—you have a lot more free will in the matter, and believe me, that's a blessing."

Sally nodded. She certainly did not mind not having to bear the weight of the world on her shoulders...

"And Beth… before, when we all… well, when you lot left the TARDIS, I knew that you had to get back to your time. It could wait, but it had to happen, and it might as well be sooner rather than later." The Time Lord rolled his eyes. "So much for that." It had been unforgivably cruel, anyway: to give Beth a taste of his lifestyle, just a taste, and then keep her from going any further. "And I could definitely sense a Fixed Point in your timeline. I wasn't sure what it was at that point, but now, when I Look at you… it's already happened."

Beth's eyes widened beneath her frown, not understanding.

Holmes's brow furrowed. "You don't mean the case, Doctor, do you?" Since Time had been reset, the case still had yet to be resolved, technically.

The Doctor shook his head slowly and sighed. He didn't like that he had to tell them this; there was no way it was not going to hurt. "This probably won't be easy for you two to hear, but…"

Beth tensed automatically, setting down her teacup just in case.

"It was your death, sweetheart," he said gently—"or rather, your death and resurrection. That was always meant to happen, no matter what else did."

Beth stared at him, speechless. What the actual zed...?

Holmes was certain his face was as pale as Beth's, fingers tightening on hers. Beth's empty eyes, her face as white as the snow beneath, rapidly staining crimson... Then he felt a gentle nudge in his mind: Easy, Holmes, come back... Across the table, Nikola's eyes were a study in empathy. Holmes gave the telepath a small but heartfelt nod of thanks, relaxing his grip on Beth's hand again and refocusing on what the Doctor was saying.

"But, like I said, you were always meant to come back. And now you've fulfilled that Point, but—" the Doctor held up a finger—"that doesn't mean you're off the hook just yet. A lot of people that you would call 'historical figures' never have a Fixed Point in their lives and yet they are still born to influence Reality. The choices that they make decide how history will play out. Beth, you're both a person with a Fixed Point and a Reality-influencer. And someone else we know—knew—could influence Reality."

"Moriarty," Beth said quietly, head spinning.

The Doctor nodded. "Remember how I said that I knew that you had to go back to your own time, before Time broke down? Looking at you now… I don't see that anymore."

Beth paled further, breath catching.

"Looking at your timeline," the Doctor continued in a gentle tone, "at Sherlock's, at Moriarty's… they were all very tightly interwoven. Whatever one decided affected the other two tremendously. And I think that, at some point between Time breaking down and this morning… Moriarty made a decision that made it… no longer necessary for you to go back."

Beth stared, heart pounding wildly. How... how...?

"Then..." an equally stunned Holmes said slowly, still uncertain of what the Time Lord was driving at; "where exactly does that leave us, Doctor?"

"Well, quite frankly, I'm pretty sure it leaves us at a place where what Beth does with her life is up to her."

Beth's face twisted, her pulse not slowing in the slightest. "But… Doctor… what if… what if I can't…"

Holmes put his arm around Beth, then remembered with a guilty pang that he still hadn't gotten the chance to talk with Watson about what he'd been considering... but one look at his friend's face was enough to tell him that Watson had already had the same thought, smiling and nodding at Holmes encouragingly: Go on, ask him. "Actually, Doctor... Beth and I have been discussing that very question. Beth still has family in her own time... and since it's unfair to leave them behind entirely to come live with me..."

The Doctor's eyes widened, and he mentally kicked himself. "Oh. Oh… I should have thought you'd think of that. Um… setting aside the fact that it would be a shame for you to not wrap up the remaining published cases… what if I can do you one better? Because, really, at this point, I'm not sure that it's fair to either of you to be stuck in just one time."

Beth frowned, wishing he'd just come to whatever it was he had in mind. "Doctor… what are you saying?"

"Doctor," Holmes sighed, "you know we can't travel in the TARDIS indefinitely." Especially since you two are most likely going to have children at some point – do you really want any of them to be quite so... special as Kathy?

"Well, you know, the TARDIS is not the only way that you can travel through Time," the Doctor replied. "There are other ways… one in particular that I'm thinking of."

Beth's eyes widened further. Was he... was he offering her unlimited time travel?

"Now, it might be a little tricky to get my hands on it, but… you would have the ability to go whenever and wherever you wanted on your own terms." The Doctor turned towards her. "You could go back and forth between this time and your own."

He is. Beth covered her mouth in shock, and saw Sally copying her across the table. She could... she could go through Time and Space on her own...? There had to be a catch—that was too amazing to be true!

Watson's eyes almost bulged out of his head, Holmes appearing no less thunderstruck. The notion of Sherlock Holmes, magnet of crime, with his own personal time machine...! Then the doctor heard a faint sigh on his right and glanced over – Nikola was looking decidedly wistful. Of course, both inventors' travels in the TARDIS had all been on Earth in and around 1895; Nikola would probably give a lot to see even a tiny bit more of the universe the way the rest of them had.

The Doctor met Beth's gaze squarely, stood, and moved to kneel beside her chair. "Because Sherlock's right, Beth," he said solemnly: "it's not fair for you to have to choose between families—" not in any version of events, and especially not after everything she had done, and suffered—"and I'm going to do my best to make sure that you won't have to."

Beth was crying silently by the time he finished. She leaned down and hugged him tightly, awed and grateful beyond words.

The Time Lord returned her hug, rubbing her back slowly and murmuring soothingly, "My brave girl. My brave, beautiful girl..." The Doctor was not a person, it was an ideal, an ideal he always aspired to be. And throughout this whole ordeal, Beth had been the one to fulfill that ideal; she had been the Doctor in every way that mattered.

Sally pressed her lips tightly together to stop a sob of relief from escaping, eyes glistening; the thought that she still might lose her best friend had terrified her, but saying so to Beth had seemed too cruel... and now... She looked up with a misty smile to see that both their husbands were wearing much the same expressions, Sherlock more than a little overwhelmed. Thank you, Doctor... thank you so much...


Holmes paused before Lestrade's office door, bracing himself before raising his hand to knock – even though he'd been looking forward to this moment all morning, he suddenly felt inexplicably anxious.

Beth took his hand and squeezed it, just as nervous as he was. She was about to properly meet her future brother-in-law and her own several-times-great grandfather—as properly as she could, given the circumstances—and she was just about terrified.

No enemies here, remember? Just family... He squeezed back, doing his best to smile reassuringly, and knocked.

"Come in."

Entering, Holmes wasn't surprised to find his brother there already, eyebrows raised at the sight of Beth, but rising at once. Lestrade stood, too, nodding respectfully. "Good morning, miss."

"Good morning, Inspector," Beth said carefully, almost demurely. How many times have you actually had to act this properly? Two? ...okay, now is really not the time.

"Good day, gentlemen." Holmes turned to Mycroft, smiling proudly. "Brother mine, I am certain you have already deduced this young lady's identity." His voice and expression softened as he drew Beth forward. "Nevertheless, allow me to present Miss Elizabeth Smith... my fiancée."

Lestrade's mouth fell open before he could stop it. Fiancée?! Surely not, there had to be a catch! Sherlock Holmes was not a marrying man; he'd made that frightfully clear in the past!

Beth blushed at her ancestor's reaction. She could guess pretty well what was running through his head right now...

Mycroft had indeed deduced who Miss Smith was, bestowing a genial smile upon her as he bowed over her hand – so this was the young lady who had, against all odds, persuaded Sherlock to break his most vehement oath! Strange, though... Just for a moment, he could have sworn they had met before... "I am delighted to meet you, Miss Smith. I hardly dare hope that my dear brother has spoken as highly of me as he has of you." He shot a stern but twinkling glance at Sherlock, who was poorly concealing a grin at the hapless Inspector's reaction – it was absolutely typical of his little brother to give him no warning of such an occasion.

Beth smiled warmly back—it was so good to see Mycroft again, alive and well. And looking at him now, she could see a definite resemblance to his little brother. "I think you would be surprised, Mr. Holmes. It's wonderful to meet you." She turned to face Geoffrey Lestrade, and it felt amazing to have the opportunity to look him in the eye. She hadn't before, when she'd been impersonating an Irregular on that disastrous trip with Sherlock when everything was first falling apart. "And you, Inspector."

"Delighted, Miss Smith." Lestrade was aware he stammered slightly, but, blast it, he couldn't be expected to take this kind of earth-shattering news with any sort of equilibrium! At least the young lady—whom he'd noticed was quite young, and American, to boot—was not taking offence. If anything, she seemed genuinely pleased to meet him, and that in itself was odd.

"My dear Inspector, I fear you look a trifle pale. Are you feeling quite well?"

Lestrade shot the insufferable amateur a brief glare and lifted his chin. Damn the man, he was probably enjoying this immensely. "I'm very well, thank you. Miss Smith, do take a seat."

"Thank you." Beth shot Sherlock a brief look, wanting him to behave himself, and let him guide and seat her in a chair before the desk.

Lestrade waited for the brothers to sit, then seated himself. "Well, then, Mr. Holmes, what progress have you made?"

"Excellent progress, Lestrade. I have every expectation that the stolen plans may yet be recovered. We have managed to ascertain the involvement of one Hugo Oberstein, international agent –" Holmes nodded to Mycroft in acknowledgement of his assistance; "in both the theft of the plans and the death of Cadogan West. Whatever part the unfortunate young man had to play in this matter remains unclear." Miss Westbury's eyes still haunted Holmes, he prayed that he might yet prove her fiancé innocent. "It is certain, however, that his body was placed upon the roof of the train from Oberstein's back window, his residence at Caulfield Gardens abutting upon the open tracks of the Underground."

Beth had winced when Sherlock got back to Cadogan West. That poor man—and his poor fiancée. I can't imagine what she must be going through. She opened her mouth slightly, about to speak on impulse on West's behalf, but she stopped herself. She didn't have anything certain to say, and what could she really have said that would be worth hearing? It was probably not time yet to let anyone outside of 221B know that she was already involved in Sherlock's casework.

Interesting... Miss Smith seemed to have more of a personal interest in the case than Mycroft would have expected. Had she known the deceased? Perhaps, but more likely that Sherlock had discussed the case with her – a remarkable testimony to his brother's confidence in his betrothed, if so. Where in the world could they have met?

Lestrade raised both eyebrows. "Good Lord. And what of this Mr. Oberstein? I assume, then, that he bought or stole the plans?"

"Indeed, and has since left the country. However, we may still lure him back before he has a chance to sell them. Watson and I were able to..." Holmes couldn't quite keep a sheepish note out of his voice; "gain access to Oberstein's residence last night, and an inspection of his correspondence revealed these." He drew an envelope out of his coat pocket, ruefully noting that Mycroft's lips were twitching at the confession, though he remained silent.

Lestrade sighed—he might have known—and extended his hand for the envelope. "May I?"

"By all means." Holmes handed over the envelope, which contained a number of newspaper cuttings, obtained from the cash-box in Oberstein's study. "Whoever his confederate might be, Oberstein has been corresponding with them through the Daily Telegraph agony column." Every newspaper in London had its own signature typeface and grade of paper; the detective could have written a monograph on the subject if he'd thought anyone would actually read it.

Lestrade opened the envelope and skimmed over the ads:

Hoped to hear sooner. Terms agreed to. Write fully to address given on card. Pierrot.

Too complex for description. Must have full report. Stuff awaits you when goods delivered. Pierrot.

Matter presses. Must withdraw offer unless contract completed. Make appointment by letter. Will confirm by advertisement. Pierrot.

Monday night after nine. Two taps. Only ourselves. Do not be so suspicious. Payment in hard cash when goods delivered. Pierrot.

"It does seem pretty damning, this collection." Shaking his head, the Inspector set the envelope down and resisted the urge to sigh again. "No wonder you get results beyond us…"

Holmes held up a hand in mild protest. "Time was of the essence, Lestrade. Rest assured I do not rank housebreaking among my usual methods. Well, Mycroft?"

"Excellent, Sherlock," Mycroft nodded, the gleam in his eye the only outward sign of his delight. "But what use will you make of this?"

Holmes picked up Lestrade's morning copy of the Daily Telegraph from the desk. "Have you seen Pierrot's advertisement today?"

Lestrade frowned. "What? Another one?"

"Yes, here it is." Holmes ought to recognise it, he'd written it. "'Tonight. Same hour. Same place. Two taps. Most vitally important. Your own safety at stake. Pierrot.'"

Lestrade couldn't help being impressed—a neater solution to catching the thief, he couldn't ask for. "By George, if he answers that, we've got him!"

Beth also smiled. She'd first fallen in love with Sherlock's intelligence, and it still felt like a real treat to get to see it in action.

Good Lord... Mycroft's eyes widened, gaze darting between the Inspector and Miss Smith. Those smiles had quite transformed both their faces, and in the light of the gaslamp...

"That was my idea when I put it in." Holmes glanced over at Mycroft, eyes narrowing slightly at his brother's preoccupied expression, and cleared his throat. "I think if you could both make it convenient to come with Watson and I to Caulfield Gardens at about eight o'clock, we might possibly get a little nearer to a solution."

Mycroft gave a resigned nod, answering dryly, "I should be delighted, brother mine." The sooner all this bother was concluded, the happier he'd be – although he suspected he would be wise to begin a few more discreet inquiries once he had returned to the office...

Lestrade sighed imperceptibly and nodded. It was more than a little maddening the way that Sherlock Holmes expected the official detectives to be at his beck and call, but this was a Foreign Office case. And... the fiasco with the Greek brother and sister and Mr. Melas had taught them all to follow the amateur's lead much more quickly than Gregson had that ill-fated night. "Certainly."

Beth turned then to Sherlock, her expression expectant. If she wasn't mistaken, that concluded their official business...

"Oh, yes, one more thing... My dear Lestrade, Miss Smith and I have another invitation to extend to your good self."

Lestrade's eyes widened slightly, bracing himself. The young woman's smile was positively radiant, so he had a fair idea of what he was about to hear, given the circumstances. He cleared his throat. "Ah, yes?"

Holmes smiled tenderly at Beth, then looked back up at Lestrade. "Beth and I are shortly to be married – tomorrow afternoon, barring mishaps..." Given everything that had happened already, he wasn't about to rule out the possibility of some unforeseen hiccup. "And it would mean a great deal to both of us if you would also attend."

Lestrade stared at them both. He had been right, but still he stared. He and Mr. Holmes had certainly been on friendlier terms since the younger man's return to London, but even so...

Beth's smile turned sympathetic. Poor Geoffrey. I can only imagine... "Please," she said softly.

Lestrade recovered enough to stammer out, "Of course." Then he chided himself and straightened in his seat. "It would be my honour."

Beth's smile broadened again. "Thank you."

Mycroft shook his head, sighing. "First to know, indeed." He took a second envelope from his own coat pocket, remarking innocently, "I can't imagine why I thought to bring a certain document along with me..."

Eyes lighting up, Beth opened her mouth, then closed it again, uncertain of what to say and whether or not it would be proper… And I'm already sick of not knowing how to hold proper conversations. That disastrous meeting with Oberstein made her want to dig her own grave and bury herself in it every time she thought of it. And it looks like your conversational skills haven't improved much since then...

Holmes laughed, taking the promised marriage license and pocketing it carefully before wringing his brother's hand. "You never cease to amaze me, brother mine. Thank you."

"Nor you to deprive me of a peaceful existence," Mycroft countered dryly as he rose laboriously from his chair, then bowed to Beth with a smile. "Until tomorrow, my dear. Gentlemen, I shall meet you this evening at Gloucester Road Station."

Beth rose and nodded, smiling back. I think it's safe to say I adore him already. "Until tomorrow, Mr. Holmes." She nodded to Geoffrey, smiling maybe just a tad brighter—she was so happy he was really going to come. It wouldn't be the same as having her immediate family there, but it would still be immeasurably special. "Inspector."

Standing, Lestrade nodded back. "Good day, Miss Smith. A pleasure."

Holmes squeezed Beth's hand as he took it; he was more relieved than he cared to admit that this first meeting was concluded, despite its going so smoothly. "Gentlemen."

Once they were safely out in the hall, Beth released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. "Okay, um… that went well, right?" she whispered.

"Indeed, my love," Holmes murmured, smiling as his own tension drained away. He raised her hand and kissed it, starting back with her towards the front entrance. "I should think it safe to say that we have the whole-hearted blessing of the heads of both our families."

She laughed softly. "I guess so." And thank goodness...

Emerging back onto the street, it dawned on Holmes that he and Beth still had several hours to fill before tonight's stakeout – and come to think of it, this would be their last chance until after the wedding to spend any time alone together. "Well, cherie, we seem to have the rest of the day to ourselves. Is there anything you would like to do before returning home?" Home... The detective's smile grew awed as the realisation hit him: Baker Street truly was Beth's home now.

Beth frowned, trying to think, then shook her head. "I have no idea." Everything, suddenly, was too new to her: both the world around her and her own life. All this time, she'd been fighting... and now she no longer had anything to fight and she felt directionless.

Holmes frowned, concerned at how overwhelmed Beth suddenly looked. Well, can you blame her? Everything's been moving so fast since yesterday morning... When have either of you had a chance to catch your breath? "Well... perhaps you would care to take a walk? The Temple Gardens are only a step or two from here." Watson had always enjoyed strolling with him there, even in the winter.

She smiled reassuringly at his look of worry. "I'd like that." A normal walk in a normal park sounded marvellous.


Sky: Wooow. Well, for the majority of the many drafts that this finale has gone through, Beth always went back to her own time. But then again, she always died trying to get Sherlock to leave Torchwood. When we came up with the final draft, and Beth survived the end of the 'The Dying Detective', married Sherlock in 'Every Good Fairytale', and then died at the end of that episode, we decided that our poor children had been through enough pain. We couldn't make them separate again at the end of the finale; that would have been too cruel.

But then that posed its own set of problems, to which part of the answer had to be that she would be able to travel in time herself and not have to sacrifice her birth family and the greater freedoms of her own era to live with her husband. Anything else just didn't work, and left us with a lot of options for the next season!

Ria: Yes, a lot of tears were shed during those initial drafts of the finale – in the very first draft, they only had their first real kiss just before Beth left! Oh, my heart... What the heck were we thinking?!

Well, at least it all worked out in the end. Speaking of which... stay tuned for chapter 4, and the climax of the Bruce-Partington case!