==Chapter 6==

Better Days

"Indeed, the more we find to love, the more we add to the measure of our hearts."

— Lloyd Alexander, The Black Cauldron

Although the manor's parlour was already decorated and set for the Christmas party that evening, the room still felt far less stiff and formal than Beth had been expecting, somehow having the same homely air as the Baker Street sitting room's cosy clutter. Matthew and Lavinia sat with their heads together on the hearth rug, glancing conspiratorially at the guests, and came to whisper in their father's ear once they'd finished their hot chocolate.

Granville brightened and nodded. "That's a wonderful idea. Why don't you ask them?"

The children turned to the Holmeses. "Matt and me were wondering..." Lavinia began shyly.

"Can you come to our party?" Matthew blurted out, then blushed under his sister's scowl at the interruption.

Granville had to chuckle at his son's brashness. "If you've no prior engagement this evening? It's the least we can do to thank you!"

"We should be honoured," Holmes smiled, then glanced at Beth, who had gone from looking delighted to thoughtful. He could easily deduce what she was hoping for, but was hesitant to voice for fear of offending. "However, might we request that your guest list expand to include just two more?" It would be little enough inconvenience for extra couples to be added, it was odd numbers which put a hostess out.

Granville beamed. "But of course!"

"Is Dr. Watson coming, too?" Lavinia said eagerly.

Beth nodded, beaming and barely containing her excitement. "Yes, he will be, with his wife." We're going to a Victorian party, and Sally and John are coming with us!

"Wonderful!" Lady Harriet smiled, looking genuinely delighted at the prospect. Well, Holmes hoped he wasn't being immodest, but he knew full well that some hostesses would kill to have both himself and Watson at the same dinner party! And to have their wives now, too... Harriet Granville would be the envy of all of her friends after tonight.

"Which means we must take our leave for now, I'm afraid," Holmes said to the children.

"And since you two will be up late tonight," Granville added, "it's high time you were off upstairs."

"Yes, Papa." The children gave their father a hug goodnight; then, as Sherlock and Beth rose to say their farewells, Lavinia impulsively turned and hugged Beth as well, whispering, "Thank you!"

Beth returned the hug warmly, deeply touched by this sweet little girl and reminded all too strongly of her own sister, just a little bit older than Lavinia. Jessie would never believe any of this. "You're very welcome, sweetheart," Beth murmured back.

Holmes smiled at the sight, and shook hands with Matthew. "We shall look forward to seeing you all again this evening." Matthew gave him a pleased grin, which suddenly became a worried frown. "What is it, lad?" the detective asked gently.

"Are you going to tell Dr. Watson about the trees?"

Holmes blinked. He really hadn't given the matter any thought, although he certainly hadn't planned not to tell Watson about this! "Well... he is my chronicler, Matthew. He records all of my cases, even the ones which aren't published." Holmes then realised his cheeks were growing warm, and fell silent. This young lordling was perfectly right to be so protective of his new tenants, what right did he have to overrule that?

"You needn't worry, son," Granville smiled reassuringly. "Dr. Watson is very good at keeping secrets."

Matthew looked unconvinced, his chin starting to jut like his father's.

"But," Holmes hastened to add, "since this is such an important secret, Matthew, Mrs. Holmes and I promise not to tell another human soul, not even Watson, unless you say we may."

"Well..." Matthew exchanged a look with his sister. "You can tell Dr. Watson..."

"And Mrs. Watson," Lavinia put in.

Matthew nodded, his stern gaze making the Granville resemblance even stronger. "But that's all."

"Very well," Holmes agreed solemnly, "you have our word."

Beth nodded with a fond smile—these kids really were precious. "We promise."

Lady Harriet herded her children off to bed, and Lord Granville led the Holmeses back to the front entrance, where the sleigh stood ready to return them to the train. Beth glanced into the dining hall as they passed; a couple of servants were removing ornaments from the half-dry tree before it too was removed. Through the window, an indistinct figure could be seen on a ladder outside, sealing up the cracks temporarily. The maids still looked a bit wary, understandably so, despite assurances from the Granvilles that the seedlings had all gone to the hothouses. I wonder what they make of the seedlings, and if they'll forget about them or not in the future? How many people will actually know that Ents are real because of this one incident? And how long will Lavinia and Matthew be friends with their fairies?

"I think," Beth mused aloud, "the children will practically be living in the hothouse all winter..."

Granville laughed. "Oh, indeed they will!" Holmes noted the peer's rueful expression with sympathy – there were going to be tears come Springtime when the seedlings left.

Outside, the two men shook hands in farewell. "Lord Granville," Holmes said warmly, "it's been a pleasure."

"The pleasure was ours, Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Holmes." Granville took Beth's hand, bowing over it. "How can we ever repay you?"

"Think nothing of it, my dear sir!" Holmes laughed. "The case itself was more than we could have asked for!"

"Absolutely," Beth added, nodding. She wouldn't have missed this little adventure for the world!

"Yes..." Granville turned to gaze across the snow-carpeted grounds, eyes shining with all of the deep love and pride of the English landowner. "I'm sure my ancestors never dreamt that we would be held to account for our care of the land by its oldest inhabitants... but to not be found wanting is all I could have hoped."

The trip back to London was quiet, as if both Holmeses were saving up their thoughts on this little adventure until they could share it with the Watsons. Husband and wife were content merely to nestle in each other's embrace, particularly after that brief but sharp burst of adrenaline in dealing with the Ent mother. As they reached, in a cab, their own front door at last, Sherlock smiled, and Beth smiled in reaction. "What is it?" she asked, unable to decipher the reason for this particular smile.

"Admiring the view," her husband answered softly. The decorated tree silhouetted in the window, the evergreen wreath on the door... 221B had seldom looked so welcoming. Holmes rested his head against Beth's, glad of the warm rug covering them, provided by the driver. The old, familiar after-case weariness was fast creeping up on him, but it was more than just that, this time.

Beth followed his gaze and looked up at the window, her smile widening. "It's beautiful," she said just as softly. Christmastime on Baker Street... She sighed as the cab rolled to a halt; she'd been quite comfortable with Sherlock under their rug. She looked back at him and noted his tiredness—post-case dejection...? Even though the "case" had taken just a few hours? "All right, honey?" she said aloud.

"Mm... a little tired, perhaps." Holmes was starting to think the Granvilles had had the right idea – a short rest before going out again probably wouldn't be a bad thing...

She nudged him gently to remind him he needed to get up. "Well, fortunately, we have a few hours to kill. Which, in part, I want to be spent making sure that I don't screw up on Victorian courtesy again, but we have plenty of time."

"Of course." He disentangled himself and stood up, shivering as the cold air hit, then got down and helped Beth alight.

She shivered herself, hurried to the door, and let herself in, holding the door open for Sherlock. He quickly joined her, remembering to wipe his feet on the mat this time. "Mrs. Hudson?" he called (for all the world sounding quite a lot like Jeremy Brett doing the same, Beth was amused to note).

The landlady in question appeared in the kitchen doorway, clad in a spattered apron—scrubbing potatoes, Beth thought. "Really, Mr. Holmes," she tsked, "would it hurt you to walk the dozen feet to the kitchen?" A rhetorical question, clearly asked many times before. (Beth couldn't help grinning.)

"My apologies, Mrs. Hudson – I ought to have informed you that we wouldn't be home for lunch."

Mrs. Hudson nodded, well used to unexpected comings and goings by now. "I thought as much. Will the two of you require dinner this evening?"

Beth's grin widened, eyes sparkling. "Actually, no, we'll be gone." She tried to rein in her excitement, but it was hard. "We solved Lord Granville's case, and he invited us to his family's Christmas party tonight!"

"And the Watsons are included in the invitation as well."

"Wait, we're invited where?" Sally had come down from the top bedroom with Kathy in time to catch Holmes's last words.

Beth dashed up the stairs, no longer bothering to rein it in. "Christmas party! Lord Robert Granville, he came to Sherlock for help, we solved his case, and he's invited the four of us to his family's Christmas party tonight!"

Sally's mouth fell open. "Oh, wow."

"So that was his lordship this morning?" Mrs. Hudson smiled. "Well, we'd best be getting you two ready! Your gowns will likely need pressing..." and she vanished back into the kitchen to get started on heating the iron.

Beth turned wide eyes to her best friend. "Yeah, and Sherlock has got to give me a crash course on etiquette." She was still ready to die of embarrassment remembering her horrible faux pas earlier.

Watson emerged from the sitting room behind Sally, still jotting in his notebook. "A crash course on etiquette for a Christmas party?" And Holmes was willingly attending? Beth continued to prove that miracles never did cease!

Beth nodded. "Sal, how 'bout you?"

"Sure, I could use a few practice curtseys." Dining at the Savoy hadn't given Sally much chance to see what the other female diners were doing. She really was going to have invest in an etiquette guide one of these days!

"Great!" Beth was relieved that her best friend-with-a-bachelor's-in-history was going to need a refresher's course, too. "Practice session then..." She looked at her tired husband. "Just after this one's had a lie-down."

Watson smiled sympathetically, knowingly, at his friend—he had, of course, experienced the post-case fallout mild and extreme a million times before. Hopefully, this time the fallout would be mild, for Beth's sake as much as her husband's and perhaps because of her, as well.

Holmes smiled back ruefully. "Remind us to tell you about it later." Innocently, knowing that both Watsons must be wild with curiosity, "I think you'll find it a most interesting account – although definitely not one for the Strand!"

Watson narrowed his eyes—a long experience with Holmes's wicked streak certainly never made that any easier to deal with! "All right, all right. To bed with you, then."

Beth smiled apologetically at John, taking that as her cue, and pulled Sherlock into their bedroom. "I have to admit... I'm kind of tired from the trip."

Holmes closed the door behind them and gratefully put his arms around her, finally letting himself relax completely. He hated taking naps as a rule, it was too reminiscent of childhood for his liking, but for such pleasant company, he was willing to make an exception...

Smiling, Beth wound her arms around him in return and nuzzled him gently. "Hi..."

He nuzzled her back, smiling tenderly, proudly. "Hello, Mrs. Detective." He finally had a new nickname for her, it seemed.

She giggled, colouring a bit. "That was sooo cute. They were precious."

"Indeed they were." Holmes chuckled. "Although that young Matthew must be a handful!" The young man had rather reminded him of himself at the same age... and that's half the trouble, isn't it?

"I'm sure," Beth giggled quietly, then realised that her husband was looking pensive again. She reached up and cupped his cheek. "Sweetheart... is something wrong?"

Holmes sighed, he should have known she'd notice. But, God, how to say it without sounding completely petty...

Sighing internally, she nuzzled him again and kept her tone gentle. "What is it?"

"It just... seems so foolish," he murmured, cheeks growing warm. "I never imagined, after all this time, that I... could feel envious of a child..." Seeing Lavinia and Matthew in such grand surroundings, but still being raised so well, so lovingly... What wouldn't his younger self have given for even one parent like that?

Her mouth formed an "o" as she understood, heart aching. "Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, and tenderly stroked his cheek.

He leaned into her touch, his own smile faintly bitter. "Whoever said one cannot miss what one never knew was greatly mistaken."

"I know..." She did know that feeling, a little bit. "My poor love..." She leaned up and kissed his cheek.

He returned it, tightening his hold as he went on quietly, "Father never said... but I knew he blamed me for Mother's illness." The few unguarded moments of raw resentment in those typically cold grey eyes had been eloquent enough.

She couldn't think of anything to say to that, could only feel yet another pang of hatred for her father-in-law for being so horrible to his own son. Don't think about Sherlock being a sad little boy; you'll only start bawling... Swallowing the lump in her throat, she tightened her own hold and rubbed his back soothingly with both hands.

"It took me... a long time... to understand that he was wrong." He didn't even know if he truly believed that now...

Beth blinked back tears. Once she had her own means of time travel, it would always be a struggle to not go back in time and comfort her husband's childhood self. Still rubbing his back, she murmured, "You should never have had to figure that out... Poor sweetheart..."

Holmes snuggled his head against hers, the tension slowly draining out of him. "I suppose that's the main reason I... lack enthusiasm for this particular holiday. I know it's meant to be a time to pause and reflect..." But there were a great many memories he would prefer to keep buried.

For a moment, there was silence. Beth broke it softly. "It's meant to be a time for family... something you definitely have in abundance." She softened her voice further, remembering something he'd told her when she was starting to have new nightmares. "We're here for you, honey. You're going to start having new and better memories."

He looked up with a misty smile, unable to speak just at the moment, then leaned in and kissed her.

She returned the kiss, gently, then smiled against his lips. "Come on, nap-time for you, mister." She wouldn't mind a nap herself, not after all the traveling she'd already done today. Sherlock hummed in agreement, sitting on the bed to take off his shoes. Beth leaned against the bedpost and balanced carefully to undo her boots, then sat beside her husband. "Mind helping me with the evil fashion device?"

"My pleasure." He waited till Beth had taken off her outer clothing, down to her corset and undershift, then unlaced her carefully.

"Thanks." Wearing a corset day-to-day wasn't as bad as it had been with her wedding gown, but she still hated the constant cage around her body, and could have cheerfully murdered everyone involved in the making and marketing of it as a vital part of women's clothing. She sighed in relief as Sherlock took the stupid thing off and flopped backward onto the mattress.

Holmes stripped down to his drawers and undershirt, bent over Beth and kissed the tip of her nose. "Pardon me, my lady," he murmured, "but you seem to have stolen all the blankets."

She arched an eyebrow, smile widening. "Move me, then, why don't you?" He arched an eyebrow back, eyes glinting with mischief, edging a hand towards her ribs. She startled up from the mattress and away from his hand, eyes wide. "No!"

Holmes's grin was wicked as he slipped under the covers, and more than a little smug – what did she expect, she had challenged him!

She narrowed her eyes in return, then pulled the covers back on her side and slipped in. She continued to eye him suspiciously as if waiting for him to try to attack her again—she was pretty sure he wouldn't, but she felt a bit playful all of a sudden.

He chuckled, taking her hand and kissing it. "My lady..." No need for Beth to look at him like that, he was much too tired to take things further just now.

Her glare evaporating, she giggled, and scooted up against him and relaxed, melting into the mattress.

Holmes put his arm around her, lazily stroking her back with his fingertips, smiling drowsily. "I love you."

Her eyelids fluttered at his touch, a little thrill running up her spine, blissfully happy just to be held like this. "I love you..." She nestled a bit closer and tucked her head beneath his, and drifted slowly but contentedly to sleep.

Beth drifted into consciousness as slowly as she had drifted out of it. The pale sunlight helpfully reminded her that it was only the afternoon and they had a party to get ready for that night... although... She tipped her head up to see her husband still sleeping peacefully. Kinda wish we could be lazy for the rest of the day. ...but then, you've been doing a lot of that lately, haven't you? ...true... A little change of pace wouldn't hurt.

She stretched and realised that Sherlock's hand was still loosely wrapped around hers. He stirred at the motion, fingers tightening slightly on hers again, eyelids fluttering—gosh, it's not fair even for your own husband to be that beautiful. At the very least, it made her want to kiss him senseless on a regular basis. She limited herself just now, though, to raising her hand to his cheek and stroking it lightly.

"Mm..." He smiled at her touch, eyes blinking open. "Hello..."

Smiling back, she kissed his fingers lightly. "Afternoon."

Oh, yes, they were going out later, weren't they? But not quite yet... Holmes cupped Beth's cheek and kissed her softly. She hummed happily, winding her fingers through his hair. "Mm..." God, she was so lovely... "My sunshine..."

Her smile widened. "Kitty..." She kissed him again, then sighed as reality intruded on her thoughts. "I guess we'd better get up..."

Holmes groaned softly. "I suppose we must." Although he had to admit he was feeling much better for having rested.

Beth smiled in sympathy. "You and John still going to help me 'n' Sally out?"

"Of course." He stroked her cheek. "There's no need to be nervous, love. The fundamental rule of etiquette is to do your best to put others at their ease. You won't be censured for a mistake, especially if people can see you're making an effort."

Not terribly reassured, she leaned into his touch, half wishing they had the time to go further. "If you say so."

He nodded, kissing her again. "You'll have a wonderful time, cherie, I promise." The dinner at Windsor had gone well enough, and there would be many more guests this time, hopefully making Beth feel less conspicuous.

She sighed and nodded. "All right, I'll try."

Holmes and Watson took the stage – well, the sitting room floor – with Sally and Beth watching from the settee. "Now, I'm sure you girls already know this," Watson began, "but it's worth repeating: the most important rule of etiquette is the Golden Rule."

Sally smiled—as a history major, she had more of an idea of what to expect from this session than Beth. "Respect others the way you want to be respected?"

"Precisely. Keep that in mind and you'll always make a good impression, even if you mistakenly use the wrong fork or greet someone too informally."

"Speaking of which," Holmes put in, "we won't be addressing anyone by first names, not even each other."

Watson nodded. "It'll be 'Mr. or Mrs. Holmes', 'Dr. or Mrs. Watson'."

"Or the three of us, being close acquaintances, may refer to Watson as 'the doctor'."

"That one, I do know, yeah," Beth said, already tired and frustrated with stupid etiquette that wouldn't allow you to call your own husband by his first name. "Make its way into books..."

No more thrilled than Beth, Sally made a face.

"All right," Watson said, "we'll try to keep things as simple as possible here. Fortunately, you won't have to make your own introductions, that's the duty of the host and hostess." He and Holmes turned to face each other. "And as a general rule, ladies also bow when introduced, rather than curtsey."

"Except in a ballroom," Holmes added.

Watson gave him a pointed look: Stop being so helpful. "Which will do for another time."

"Got it," said Sally.

Beth nodded—it was simple enough thus far, but she couldn't stop thinking about her fiasco early that morning.

"Now, regardless of what you may have seen in films, there's no need to bend at the waist at all. Just a gracious inclination of the head – like so." Both men bowed to each other, Holmes taking the lead.

Sally grinned—it was kind of fun watching the two of them. "Mm-hm." She noticed, too, that Beth was finally grinning as well, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hands. Good. She knew it would be difficult going for a while yet, but Beth needed to work towards getting a handle on her anxiety over how to act in this century.

Her husband grinned back. "Not forgetting to smile pleasantly, of course. Now you two try it."

Beth raised a hand. "I did it earlier!"

Sally snorted a laugh. "And I don't think we could manage straight smiles right now."

Holmes chuckled, also relieved to see Beth beginning to enjoy herself. "Very well, then."

"Who goes first, though?" Sally thought she knew, but wanted to confirm it.

"The lady, or if between two of the same sex, the higher ranking or elder bows first."

Sally nodded and sighed. "Which'll be almost everybody else."

Beth hummed, frowning slightly. "And if you genuinely don't know, you go first anyway?"

"Yes," Holmes said slowly, "although you should be able to tell from the initial introduction. And you needn't bow whenever you encounter them in the room – twice at most is enough."

"Right."

Sally exhaled. "Sooo... what else?"

Watson frowned in thought. "Mm, everything else is either basic good manners, or you'll be able to copy the other ladies in the room..."

Holmes caught his eye. "Escorts."

"Oh, yes... When leaving, entering or crossing a room, ladies must always be accompanied."

"Even the married ones." One of the more nonsensical conventions, in Holmes's opinion.

The girls traded looks, neither of them happy. Why the hell did Victorians have to be so... so perfectly proper, anyway? Sally looked half-disbelievingly, half-pleadingly, at her husband. "Seriously?"

"I'm afraid so," Watson nodded. "Although it needn't be with a gentleman, you can have another lady with you instead."

Holmes gave his wife's frustrated sigh a smile of sympathy. "And be warned, none of us will be sitting together during dinner. We'll all be assigned different guests as dining partners."

Beth was past beginning to despair again and already quite a ways down that road. "Oh my gosh..."

Sally shook her head. "I want to know who comes up with all this stuff." Preferably so that she could hunt them—him, in all probability—down in the TARDIS, chew them out, and let Beth punch them in the face.

Beth looked at Sally, eyes wide. "We're not going to be able to remember all of this constantly—I'm not going to be able to remember all of this constantly! You'll probably do okay..." She turned back to the men, shaking her head. "How... how are we... seriously, I mean..."

"Well, that last one keeps close acquaintances from monopolising each other during the dinner conversation." Watson smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Lady Granville will have made an effort to invite gentlemen you can converse with easily."

Holmes came to sit on Beth's other side, putting his arm around her. "Just be your usual charming selves, observe the other women for the rest, and everything will be fine."

Sally nodded slowly and shrugged.

Beth, despite Sherlock's embrace, folded her arms on her knees and dropped her head onto them with an explosive sigh.

Sally nudged her gently. "Hey, it'll be okay. You're lucky—you've already met the family once!"

Beth raised her head. "Well, that's the one bright spot in this zedding mess of Victorian etiquette."

Sally brightened. "So? What happened this morning?"

Beth couldn't help her eyes lighting up despite the anxiety of the coming evening. "Baby trees. Baby trees happened, and they were adorable!"

Sally's eyes were wide. "What, like... little Treebeards?!"

Grinning, Beth nodded enthusiastically. "And they were so precious! They were this big!" She gestured appropriately with her fingers. "They'd been hatched by accident—that shouldn't have happened until spring."

"But where'd they come from?"

Holmes took the pillbox out of his coat pocket – a memento of the case, courtesy of Lord Granville. "They hatched from these. Lord Granville's gardener brought them in off an old oak tree, thinking it was ordinary mistletoe."

Beth nodded. "Hang it above a fire, and you have more than enough warmth for heat-sensitive egg-berries to open."

Sally nodded slowly. "Just like an incubator..."

Watson was already jotting down notes. "What happened after that?"

"Well, the berries had been hung up in the dining hall as part of the decorations for tonight's festivities – which included a large Christmas tree..."

"Ohh boy." Sally winced, already having an inkling where the story was going.

Holmes nodded, chuckling. "And being newly hatched, the seedlings immediately imprinted onto the largest plant in the room!"

"Imprinted... they thought the tree was their mother!" Watson raised both eyebrows. "Where was the real mother?"

Beth winced. "Out searching for her babies. She was, um... well, let's say she wasn't a happy camper when we met up with her."

Sally's lips pursed in a silent whistle. "No kidding! She must've been about ready to mulch someone!" She certainly would have been!

Watson winced at that unpleasant mental image. "I take it, however, no one was actually 'mulched'?"

"Thankfully, no," Holmes said gravely, "although Lord Granville came rather close." It could all so easily have ended in blood, the TARDIS's translation notwithstanding.

Watson winced again. "How, pray tell, did he escape the wrath of a frantic mother? And at what point, for that matter, did Lord Granville come to you for help?"

Holmes grinned at Watson's impatience. "All in good time, my dear fellow! The Granvilles have two young children, Lavinia and Matthew – you'll meet them tonight, of course. They were the first to discover the seedlings, although they thought the tiny creatures were tree fairies to begin with."

"Well, that's understandable!" Sally laughed.

Beth smiled at the memory of meeting the children. "They're really sweet. Anyway, naturally they ended up telling their parents and it was soon discovered that the poor brown tree really did have lots of itty-bitty occupants."

"And Lord Granville wasted no time in posting down to London."

"I bet," said Sally. "Good thing you two solved the case with time to spare."

Holmes exchanged a look with Beth. "Well, to be honest... I should think it was the children who deserved most of the credit!"

Beth nodded. "They befriended the seedlings and saved their father from... getting squashed. We were just able to talk with the trees, that was all." She shrugged.

"Of course, the TARDIS! So you reunited mother and babies..." Sally sighed wistfully – of all the adventures to miss out on, it had to be one like this!

"With some help all around, yes..." Beth turned and hugged Sally lightly. "Don't worry—you're totally going to meet them if we can manage it!"

"Since they hatched prematurely, the seedlings aren't ready to face the elements yet. It was Beth's idea that Lord Granville allow them to stay with their mother in one of his hothouses until the spring."

Beth couldn't help beaming just a little. "I'm sure the Granvilles wouldn't mind your taking a peek, and Mama Ent might not mind, either—she'd be able to speak with you two, too."

Watson shook his head in amazement. "It's extraordinary." Talking, walking trees in the middle of England! "I wonder where this family came from?"

Holmes shrugged. "Who knows? Lord Granville is under the impression that their species has been here as long as the land itself – and he may well be right."

"That would make a lot of sense," Sally nodded thoughtfully. "There's references to dryads and similar 'spirits' through centuries of literature and mythology." She grinned. "Makes you wonder how many people have actually seen one..."

Beth frowned slightly, thinking of the baby Ents—how many other instances in history had there been of Ent eggs mistaken for mistletoe? How many babies—no, stop. "I'm not sure I want to think about that." She had to swallow a rising lump in her throat before she continued. "Humans in general aren't exactly known for their understanding nature..."

"Mm. Although..." Holmes smiled at the memory of Lady Harriet and the mother Ent bonding over their children, once the initial shock had worn off. "I should think it safe to say that the Granville family will be handing down some new traditions for future generations."

Sally laughed. "Yeah, no more mistletoe, for a start!"

Watson chuckled. "Lord, it's already going to be a long time before I can look at mistletoe again without thinking of sentient seedlings!"

Sally bounced a little on the settee cushions, eyes sparkling. "I can't wait for tonight!"

Ria: Sorry, guys, we're painfully aware of how long this update has been in coming! In our defence, though, we have been hard at work putting Season 2 together, and it's gonna be a doozy! ;)

Sky: And I'm afraid I was mostly the one holding the update up, but... a LOT of life has been happening to me this year. :P And when I thought I'd try to get back into the swing of things with this ep, it felt very good and natural and not almost-forced like it felt before, so hopefully you're also getting a better chapter for the wait! :D