==Chapter 7==

Unfinished Business

He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.

– Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

Beth roused slowly, stretching lazily, then opened her eyes. Her arm was draped over Sherlock, who, in turn, had an arm wrapped around her. He looked so contented and peaceful... so beautiful... Smiling, she stroked his hair slowly, gently. I can actually spend the rest of my life with him...

He started to stir, eyelids fluttering, and she leaned up to kiss his forehead softly. He smiled, humming, and his eyes blinked open slowly. His drowsy smile was just about the most adorable thing she had ever seen.

Still stroking his hair, she whispered, "Morning, sweetie."

"Good morning, dearest..." How he loved waking up to this, his wife's shining smile beside him every morning... Knowing that he had a lifetime of that to look forward to simply took his breath away.

Her vision blurred suddenly—the sheer adoration in his eyes was incredible... "I love you..." She kissed him softly, thrilling at the perfectness of it: the two of them, married, in their own room, in their own flat, with Moriarty gone and the rest of Reality safe.

"I love you, too." He kissed her back tenderly, then groaned softly as he remembered: the stakeout at the hotel was this morning. What idiot had scheduled that for today? You did, remember?

She sighed—the tenor of that groan was that Reality was going to have intrude upon them soon. She pulled back and brushed her hair away from her face. "What time do you have to go?"

He hummed thoughtfully, stretching. "The stakeout is set for noon, but Mycroft is expecting us at eleven. Oberstein, being the seasoned operative that he is, will most likely arrive and establish his presence in the hotel well in advance." It was certainly what he would have done.

She nodded slowly. "...what will happen to Oberstein, after he's arrested?" The man had, after all, killed a British citizen, an employee of the government, and she recalled Oberstein's fate in the story as being a long stint in prison. Call me crazy, but I don't like the thought of that...

He heard the faint note of concern in her voice, brow furrowing. "Well, I highly doubt he'll remain behind bars for long – he's too valuable an agent." Not to sound immodest, but Oberstein probably would have gotten away clean if Holmes hadn't been consulted.

"So... an agent exchange?"

"Most likely, yes." Holmes sighed. "Espionage is a high-risk game, but it is a game – to men like Oberstein, there's nothing personal about it, despite all the trouble this incident has caused... and Mycroft understands that even better than I."

She couldn't help feeling relieved. "Right. All right, okay."

He caressed her cheek, giving her an innocent smile. "And I suppose, since Time's been reset, there's no real danger of him recognising you."

She frowned slightly—recognising her? "No, not really..." Her eyes widened in realisation: he wanted her to go with him?!

He grinned at her reaction, teasing, "Unless you'd rather stay home – after all, you have wrapped up the case once yourself!"

She smacked his shoulder lightly. "Are you kidding me? No way I'm missing out on this if you'll let me go! Can Sally come, too?"

"By all means, love," he chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of excluding you – although you two will need to watch from the dining room. Best not to have too large a party."

"No problem—we've been wanting to have a girls' lunch out for a long time now." They'd daydreamed, sometimes, in Frozen Time, about things they'd do together if they could ever get the chance: lunches, movies, shopping... showing each other the places they'd grown up in... Things that normal girls would do for fun. And it's about to become a reality!

He nodded, smile turning rueful. "And I am going to have a most difficult time keeping from constantly looking in your direction." Good grief... you do realise that stealing glances at beautiful women is actually perfectly normal behaviour?

Beth's mouth formed an 'o'. "Then again... maybe this isn't such a good idea..." She didn't want to be a distraction!

Holmes shook his head firmly. "We'll have to grow accustomed to such conditions at some point, love. We might as well begin as we mean to go on." He certainly wouldn't mind her being involved in his future cases – the unpublished ones, of course!

"I suppose so." Humming in thought, she started to stroke his hair again. "We'll probably still have a fair chunk of the day free, too..."

He leaned into her touch, eyes half closing. "Indeed... once we've searched Oberstein's lodgings..." Mm, there's a thought... "I don't suppose you have any idea where he'd hide those papers?"

She blinked. He's asking me for information? "Oh, um... yeees?"

"Beth, I shouldn't think it would make any significant difference to the case at this point – or to Reality – but if you would rather not..."

Call her paranoid, but as much as she wanted to alter future cases, she didn't want to mess with the current one. Too soon, she thought wryly. "Wayeeeeeell... mm, you might want to pay special attention to his travel chest?"

He nodded gratefully. "And then the rest of the day to ourselves," he murmured, drawing her head down to his for another kiss.

She returned the kiss and said, "That sounds lovely." Oh! Might this afternoon be a good time to try to make that one idea of yours a reality? Oh boy, maybe... "And I just might have an idea for that..."

Holmes' pulse quickened, arching an eyebrow – he knew that look...

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Oh, no. If it happens, it'll be a surprise."

He returned the kiss, murmuring, "Something to look forward to, then." Do try not to speculate before getting home, that could be... awkward.

She nodded happily. "Mm-hmm."


Eleven o'clock saw Watson and the Holmes brothers sitting in the lobby of the Charing Cross Hotel, Mycroft ostensibly engrossed in that morning's Times. "Well, gentlemen, you look well today," he remarked lightly, not looking up from the paper. "In fact, I should say that married life quite suits you, Sherlock." His brother had already visibly regained some of the weight he'd lost during his travels, thanks to the new Mrs. Holmes as much as to their landlady's talents, no doubt.

Holmes sighed – Watson had been ribbing him mercilessly since setting out this morning. He didn't have to force a smile, however, allowing himself a quick glance over to where Beth sat with Sally in the dining room, the girls' table affording them an excellent view of the lobby and front entrance. "It does indeed, Mycroft, thank you."

Mycroft shook his head, smiling faintly. "And you, Doctor. Your wounds, in particular, do not seem to be troubling you, despite the time of year." Heaven only knew which point in the future the young ladies had come from, he probably never would... but if Katherine was not the genuine offspring of Doctor and Mrs. Watson, Mycroft would eat his newspaper – Watson and Sherlock had certainly been away long enough for that.

Watson tensed for a split second—come now, you've been expecting a comment like that sooner—then relaxed, smiling. "It's kind of you to notice, Mycroft." He grinned with a sudden idea. "What do you think, Holmes, shall we find a wife for him next?"

Holmes couldn't quite suppress a snort, then began looking thoughtful.

Mycroft lowered his paper sharply. "Sherlock, don't you dare!"

Holmes gave him a look of affronted innocence, then dropped it with a grin. "I'm afraid we're doomed before we start, Watson, Mycroft's already married to his work. But this must be the third time in as many days that you've deserted your post, brother mine – I trust the Empire is not on the brink of falling into ruin?"

Mycroft gave his brother a Look. "I trust that Whitehall is able to survive temporarily without me." Thoughtfully, "Although I should not mind having a nephew to whom I can pass the reins someday..."

Watson chuckled at the younger Holmes's look of horror at the thought of any child of his following in Mycroft's footsteps. "Oh, come now, Mycroft—if you really want a protégé, surely you must have a promising underling or two you could take under your wing?"

Mycroft sighed. "Doctor, were that the case, you and my brother would be the first to know of it, I assure you."

"And for the record," Holmes interjected, sounding more defensive than he'd intended, "none of the Irregulars have ever indicated the slightest interest in politics."

Watson snickered. "Aside from throwing rotten fruit at passing dignitaries, perhaps..." He wouldn't have ever approved of the act itself, but it had been amusing the one time that Wiggins' younger brother and a couple of the other lads had pelted the carriage of one of the members of the House of Lords—one who had treated Holmes rather contemptibly during a case.

Mycroft sighed again, aware that he was fighting a losing battle. "I do wish you would instill them with a bit more respect for the authorities."

Holmes shrugged. "And how would you suggest I encourage values which I myself barely possess?" Smiling with quiet pride, "The boys are largely independent of thought, I am glad to say, and I intend to see that they remain so."

Mycroft directed a speaking look at the ceiling. "Working for the government does not necessitate a lack of independent thought, Sherlock. Your boys are undoubtedly all good young men, but they want a little refining."

Holmes arched a challlenging eyebrow. "And you and I undoubtedly have vastly differing opinions as to how that ought to be achieved." Time's not Frozen any more, old chap – the boys are all going to get older now, like it or not.

"Well, Mycroft does have a point, Holmes," said Watson. "It is time the elder boys were thinking about their future careers—I believe there are at least two of them who would do well in the sciences, if not medicine specifically."

Holmes nodded thoughtfully, gaze returning to Beth for a brief moment and moving on with difficulty. It did stand to reason that, after surviving this latest adventure, navigating the perils of public school would be considerably less of a challenge.

Watson smiled innocently. "And apparently young Kelly has taken to hanging around the Yard quite a bit recently..." A fine officer of the law Kelly would make, too.

Holmes looked back at Watson with a milder look of mock horror. "Good Lord..." Watson raised a mischievous eyebrow, and the two shared a silent chuckle.

Mycroft smiled in fond exasperation, a smile that turned pensive as his gaze fell on Beth, wondering for the hundredth time just how this admittedly wonderful slip of a girl had managed to so thoroughly bewitch – much less domesticate – his little brother...


Beth could not have felt more delighted as she took in the opulent surroundings. Getting into a corset was definitely worth all this: Victorian elegance at its finest. She turned back to Sally and said with a straight face, "I have come to a very important conclusion."

"Oh?" Sally's dignified response was belied by the gleam of delight in her own eyes. "And what might that be?"

Beth really had to fight down a smile as she replied, "I like Victorian restaurants very much."

Sally pressed her lips together to hold back the grin that threatened to spread – she was determined to learn to keep the fangirling hidden and fit in with her surroundings until she found her feet. "The sentiment, my dear Mrs. Holmes, is entirely mutual." She sighed, letting the mask slide a fraction. "God, this feels so unreal... I keep waiting for someone to walk on and say 'Cut!'"

"Mm, absolutely..." It could be Jeremy Brett walking into the foyer, or it could be a good hundred other actors doing the same, at any moment now. "What feels unreal for me," Beth said ruefully, "is being out in the open like this, not having to watch my back." It would take a very, very long time to overcome the urge to look over her shoulder every five seconds, just one more gift to thank Moriarty and Moran for. "...and having you here with me, Mama Watson." She winked at her friend, thrilled to have her out in public again like this.

Sally's smile widened, blushing. "I'm just amazed we were invited! Okay, a setting like this is good cover, but still..." She felt incredibly honoured, Sherlock trusting the two of them not to stand out and give the game away at such a crucial moment.

Beth grinned back. "I know, right?" Her eyes widened as she caught sight of a familiar figure. "Now go—and I will pray we do not meet again." He was unremarkable in appearance, which he had also altered for this occasion, but she couldn't mistake him. "There he is," she whispered, "he just walked in!"


Mycroft's eyes continued roaming the premises. "Well, Sherlock, if you should ever like to see the Yard truly improve, you could not do better than to have the boys you've trained yourself enter that field in an official capacity."

His brother sighed. "Yes, yes, I am aware..." Then Holmes at last saw Oberstein walking through the lobby, a folded newspaper tucked under his left arm, looking entirely in keeping with his surroundings. "...that a certain highly sought-after individual has just graced us with his presence." Oberstein continued serenely on down the corridor towards the smoking room, removing his hat and gloves.

Watson pricked up his ears and glanced as casually as he could over at the new arrival and away again. "So that's whom we have to thank for all this commotion," he murmured dryly. "I'd envisioned him taller, for some reason..."

Mycroft snorted quietly. "My brother is one of the few tall men I know able to go unnoticed under such circumstances." Most interesting... Elizabeth's eyes had widened at the sight of the German agent, murmuring to the new Mrs. Watson in warning. Now, how could she have known what Oberstein looked like? Even Sherlock had only seen the dossier photograph this morning...

A few moments after Oberstein had entered, Geoffrey Lestrade stepped into the agent's path. "Just a moment, Herr Oberstein," said the Inspector. "I am afraid I have to detain you and take you down to New Scotland Yard for questioning."

Oberstein blinked, then answered calmly in impeccable English, complete with higher middle-class accent, "I'm terribly sorry, officer, but you seem to be misinformed. My name is Charles Brackenstall." He drew a visiting card out of his glove, smiling, and gave it to Lestrade. "Is there some way I can assist you?"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow—the man had a real nerve the Chief Inspector himself would have admired, not to mention a skill at impersonation that Sherlock Holmes would applaud. "Yes, there is. And I am afraid that I still need to take you down to New Scotland Yard under suspicion of theft from the British Government and question you. If you have nothing to do with this affair, well, then... you have nothing to fear, do you?"

Oberstein's eyebrows had lifted at the charge, drawing himself up with a look of offended outrage, only slightly mollified by the added proviso. "Well," he sniffed, "I suppose in my duty as a law-abiding citizen, I can spare you a few minutes." Nodding haughtily, "After you, officer."

Watson had to hide a smile as he watched. "Impressive," he murmured. "The man's acting talents could rival yours, Holmes!"

Holmes glanced sideways at Watson in annoyance; nevertheless, if he were honest with himself, he was beginning to appreciate how the agent had earned Beth's respect in Paris.

Lestrade pursed his lips and nodded to his constables, who came up to flank Oberstein. "Thank you very much," he said dryly. Oberstein couldn't know it yet, but his game was definitely up, and Lestrade couldn't wait to finally put an end to this business.

Mycroft's forehead creased faintly – Elizabeth's expression as her eyes followed Oberstein was... concerned? They've met. The thought rang with certainty as Oberstein followed the Inspector out, the agent still maintaining his façade of outraged innocence; somewhere, somehow, those two must have encountered each other before...

Holmes glanced over his shoulder to where Colonel Walter was being escorted from the smoking room by two plainclothes constables. A pity Lestrade had chosen at the last minute to close the trap before the final incriminating transaction had even taken place, but one couldn't have everything. He nodded at the officers, then turned back to Mycroft and Watson. "Well, gentlemen, shall we also adjourn to the Yard?"

Watson nodded, smiling. "By all means, Holmes." It was going to be a very welcome relief to have this case wrapped up at last.


"I shall be very surprised if that does not fetch our man."

And it did! It is a matter of history—that secret history of a nation which is often so much more intimate and interesting than its public chronicles—that Oberstein, eager to complete the coup of his lifetime, came to the lure and was safely engulfed for fifteen years in a British prison. In his trunk were found the invaluable Bruce-Partington plans, which he had put up for auction in all the naval centres of Europe. Colonel Walter died in prison towards the end of the second year of his sentence. As to Holmes, he returned refreshed to his monograph upon the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus, which has since been printed for private circulation, and is said by experts to be the last word upon the subject.

The Doctor snorted, grinning to himself as he put the Strand issue back on the library shelf. Watson's artistic licence knew no bounds – the Time Lord doubted very much that writing monographs was what a newly-married Sherlock would really be doing...


Ria: Squee, we did it, the case is solved! *happy dance* Any readers interested in how the newlyweds will be keeping themselves entertained, we may just post a bonus scene or two on tumblr later... Either way, still going to be a while before we post the respective epilogues, so make yourselves comfortable. Stay tuned for chapter 8, and a very special date! =)