From Winter Winks 221: the Queen's Christmas
I'm afraid I took a lot of liberties here… So before the story starts, let me explain. This is set in the Children of Time universe, the stories for which you can find under the profile Wholmes Productions. (It's under both mine and Riandra's "Favorites Authors" lists to make it easier for people to find our joint account.)
The way that Ria and I write these stories is that we roleplay them first and then fill in the narrative later. There are quite a lot of scenes that been played out that still aren't written out, yet, and the story you're about to read takes place in the timeline of those scenes-in-limbo.
The basic facts are: a) this is a crossover between canon!Holmes and Doctor Who, b) also Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century in a very AU way, c) Watson remarries (Sally Sparrow of "Blink"), d) the Bruce-Partington Plans are the backdrop for the "season finale", and e) Sherlock "Confirmed Bachelor" Holmes marries a young Beth Lestrade.
Tl;dr: Queen Victoria meets the new Mrs. Holmes.
==Day 9: The Detective's Wife==
Windsor Castle was just beginning to dress up for the Christmas season, but Queen Victoria felt that the place looked festive enough for her dinner with the newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes. She was glad, of course, to meet the Great Detective at last, but, if she was honest with herself, she was more intrigued to meet the new Mrs. Holmes. Considering, of course, that Sherlock Holmes had seemed to be entirely opposed to romance and marriage, himself, the young lady must indeed be an exceptional person...
Mr. Sherlock Holmes turned out to be as handsome and as charming as the Queen had been told, and considerably better-behaved than his older brother had intimated to her in the past. And the picture he made with his bride was quite pleasing: both were tall—the young woman very nearly of a height with her husband—slender, dark-haired, and light-eyed. Elizabeth Holmes wore an elegantly simple midnight blue dress—a good choice, for it highlighted the brighter blue of her eyes.
"Thank you, Your Highness, for extending the invitation to me," Elizabeth said after the initial greetings. Her American accent was softer than others Victoria had heard, indicating that the girl had spent quite some time in England already. And the girl—and she truly was a girl; she could not have been a day over twenty if even that—seemed as skittish as an unbroken horse behind a thin veneer of respectable calm. Bless the child, she was trying.
"Think nothing of it, my dear. When I learned that Mr. Holmes had recently married, I knew that I had to meet his bride." While Elizabeth blushed, Victoria turned toward Mr. Holmes. "And, of course, I had to meet our finest detective at least once; I have simply never had a good excuse before now. Your brother speaks very highly of you."
The detective looked as though if he would have said something contradictory but thought better of it. "You are too kind, ma'am."
"Not at all. The Empire has long owed you many debts, my dear sir, for services rendered."
He bowed. "It has been my pleasure and my honor."
She took them on a tour through Windsor, and found Elizabeth's childlike wonder most gratifying. The girl seemed positively dazzled, not unlike a peasant girl from a fairytale, finding herself in royal palace. Her husband appeared to be less impressed, but Mycroft had warned her that that was only to be expected—Sherlock cared little for finery.
At dinner, Victoria made an observation that confirmed a theory she had formed upon meeting Elizabeth. The girl was restraining herself as she ate, as if what she really wanted was to stuff herself like a Christmas goose. She had either grown up poor, or recently experienced a reversal in her fortunes. Her skin was too pale, and her face and body too thin where her own form had intended her not to be.
Once again, Victoria wondered how the couple had met, and under what circumstances they had fallen in love. Given, however, what she had observed of Elizabeth, it was probably kinder not to ask.
That did not, however, mean, that the Queen did not have other questions. She had initially intended to speak more with Mr. Holmes, but his fond expression said that he was clearly enjoying seeing his wife rise to the occasion.
What sort of family had Elizabeth come from? A large one, and she was the second-oldest. Where in America had she grown up? Michigan, ma'am, on Lake Michigan. Was it lovely country? Very much so, ma'am—mostly farmland and woods. What were her interests? Elizabeth faltered a moment before saying "History. And mysteries." And she flashed her husband a quick smile. Did she have favorite writers? Dr. Watson, of course, and Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. Oh, and Mr. Tennyson—he was her favorite poet. There was something unassuming and natural and beautiful about his poetry, easier to read than other poets but no less elegant. Victoria couldn't fault her taste.
And she also had questions about Dr. Watson and his new bride. "Is she a sweet girl, and worthy of our dear doctor?"
"Absolutely," said Sherlock Holmes, the conviction strong in his tone. Elizabeth's reaction was truly remarkable: she was looking at her husband with the look of one who has worked long and hard to earn something. Mr. Holmes's approval of Dr. Watson's new wife?
Victoria managed to cajole a few brief tales out of Mr. Holmes, as well, and discovered that he did have a knack for conversational storytelling, as one might infer from Dr. Watson's stories. She didn't fail to notice how Elizabeth hung on his every word, her expression a mixture of a more seasoned and steady love with the infatuation of a youth.
After dinner, the Queen presented Sherlock Holmes with an emerald tie-pin, a small token of appreciation for his service. She would have given him more than that, but Mycroft had advised against it. Elizabeth smiled in delight as it was pinned to her husband's tie, and Victoria couldn't blame her—the sparking green stone brought a faint and becoming green tinge to the detective's grey eyes.
All too soon, the evening was at an end, and a light snow was beginning to fall outside. Before the couple left, Victoria took Elizabeth aside for a quiet word. "I am indeed pleased to have made your acquaintance tonight, my dear," said the Queen, taking the young woman's hand in her own. "You have been a breath of fresh air, and not only, I daresay, for myself." As Elizabeth blushed, Victoria continued. "I have watched the way that you look at your husband, and the way that he looks at you. I daresay sometimes you find yourself still wondering how you came to be where you are with him?" She nodded slowly, eyes wide. "My dear girl, I have not reigned for so long by being blind to what occurs before my eyes. And I can tell you, quite certainly, that the way that your husband looks at you is the way that mine would look at me. And my dear Albert's love, I never doubted."
"I know… I know he loves me," Elizabeth murmured. "It's just that it… can be a bit much to take in, sometimes."
"I do understand, my dear." The child was still finding her feet. Once she had done so, the Queen had no doubts she would be a force to be reckoned with—and doubtless, such a woman was the only sort of woman the Great Detective would ever consider marrying.
Victoria spoke with Sherlock Holmes privately next. "It has been such a treat to meet you at last, Mr. Holmes. You and your wife are welcome at Windsor Castle if ever you should like to return."
"Thank you, ma'am." They both knew it was a formality: Sherlock Holmes notoriously cared little for the trappings of the upper class, let alone royalty, and his wife was more comfortable without them. They were very unlikely to return to Windsor, at least in Victoria's lifetime.
"I must confess, I should very much like to know how, exactly, this admittedly charming young lady succeeded in capturing your heart, Mr. Holmes. I do not think I exaggerate when I say that it must have been the most difficult conquest in the land?"
The detective blushed. "You may be right, ma'am." His gaze strayed over to where his wife stood, waiting expectantly. "I must confess, I am not entirely certain myself how it happened." His voice softened. "But I do know that she has saved my life, more than once, in more ways than one. I may have betrayed the sentiments of my youth, but I have found that a life ruled by logic rather than love is a cold life, and not worth living."
Victoria nodded. "Take good care of your lady, sir. I think she wants looking after."
He smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid she does."
She watched their coach—one of her own, lent to them for the occasion—drive away through one of the windows. Mycroft had already requested that Elizabeth be excused from an official court presentation, and she had regretfully given her consent. She had enjoyed the couple's company very much—genial and artless—but she also understood: her world was that which neither Sherlock Holmes nor his wife moved through. To have required them to enter it again would have been cruel.
She would have to content herself with this visit. She and Mycroft had much to speak of, when next they met!
A/N: So, yes, this was the aftermath of "The Bruce-Partington Plans," which took place late November of 1895. It's not unreasonable, I think, to say that Windsor might have had a little bit of Christmas cheer by then.
Um, sorry for the long AU story for a series most of you haven't even read? And also not sorry? I had to do something with the prompt, and my brain said "post-BRUC," when Holmes has his "day at Windsor" with Victoria. And my heart said, "make it Children of Time." And then the whole thing ended up being from Victoria's POV. Still not sure how well I actually did with that.
Sorry not sorry for the Sherbeth? (Sherlock/Beth.) They're my babies. And I thought it would be fun to look at them through the eyes of someone who'd never met either of them before.
Next up… something light and probably short. After that, more Starlock (yay!), then something potentially fluffy… And then, I'm not sure about the next two prompts! I guess we'll see!
