Many thanks indeed to those who are reading and enjoying this story; you keep me going. Though I have thanked most of you personally, I thank you all again for the many nice reviews.

I must confess that some of the comments from you, KIT-10 (not K-9), confuse me somewhat. I like to keep humour as an undercurrent to my work - even Time Shifts had some humour present - but I find it difficult to understand why this story amuses you so much in particular. Naturally, I am very glad that you are enjoying it so very much - I simply wish to understand.

I would also like to thank Ems for her continued support and patience - particularly when I am struggling with influenza and unable to string a coherent sentence together (yet far too stubborn to stop working) - as well as her expertise as my Beta. My thanks must also go to Hatty, for her occasional work as my typist, when I was particularly stubborn. Where would I be without you both?

The suits arrive as promised while Mrs. Hudson is out with Miss Lestrade. We first try our dinner suits, along with our new cravats. I cannot help but admire myself, for I never had funds enough for such finery, when I was as young as I would appear to be. It becomes me - especially with the fine silk cravat. Beth will find it rather difficult to take her eyes off of me!

When our housekeeper returns with my fiancée, I am dressed in my new day suit (which is much more comfortable than the authentic-by-appearance-only clothing that I was wearing upon arrival. I am not at all fond of fabrics containing nylon or other such man-made materials - they simply do not breathe!).

Beth is also wearing a new dress - a gorgeous dress! - of soft, dove grey fabric that has just a hint of mauve, which brings the violet of her eyes to the fore. Over the dress is a wool coat of a similar shade of grey and her short hair has been fastened beneath a matching hat, to give the appearance of being much longer and pinned in place. She looks absolutely beautiful!

Miss Lestrade blushes under our scrutiny as Mrs. Hudson takes her coat and gloves (I had not even noticed those).

"You don't look as if you're in mourning, now," Burke remarks, causing me to glare fiercely at him.

His friend nods. "That colour suits you - it makes your eyes look purple."

"They... uh... are, kinda," she stammers, self-consciously. "I've got violet eyes. Unusual, huh?"

"Why are you so shy about them? You almost sound ashamed! I could name a few people who would envy you," says Brett, with a smile.

Can he not see that he is bothering her? I perceive a grimace at the words - almost as if they are painful to her - and prepare to step in.

"I can already name a load o' people that envied me, OK?" Beth snaps at the actor, causing him to actually take a step back. "I went to school, for zed's sake! Do you have any idea how mean girls can be, when all they want is for the boys to notice them, when another girl's getting all the attention? And do you have any idea how much worse it gets, when that girl isn't interested and just wants to get on with her studies?"

Brett is holding up his hands and looks rather upset by the unexpected tirade and I find myself feeling - just a little bit - sorry for him.

Hastily, I step closer to touch her shoulder and lean in close to her ear. "Look at his face, Beth. I very much doubt that such matters would have crossed his mind at all, or else he would never have said it."

"I'm sorry," my fiancée all but whispers. "I just... What you said just brought it all back. School wasn't really the best time for me, I guess."

I squeeze her shoulder and address Brett with a reassuring smile. "Well, it was not the best time for me, either, but it did make me what I am. If nothing else, it taught me to defend myself."

There is a nod from the actor, who looks somewhat relieved that Lestrade is calmer. "Yes, I know what you mean, Holmes. School isn't always as much fun as it's made out to be."

I agree and permit myself a small, lightning-quick smile. "Now, before you became upset, I believe that I was admiring my beautiful fiancée. Would you be so good as to twirl for me?"

I hear Watson chuckle but pay him no heed. I want my lovely wife-to-be to know - without the shadow of a doubt - that I think that she is the most beautiful thing in our Solar System.

She blushes, but acquiesces to my request.

"That dress truly does suit you, my dear. Now, do you feel like going visiting? I should like to introduce you to your ancestor."

Beth grimaces and wordlessly casts a glance in the direction of the washroom. She looks as if she is trying to find the words for a suitable excuse.

I nod and pat at her arm. "Of course, you have been walking about London all afternoon; I should think that you shall want to freshen up, take some tea and sit down for a moment. There is no rush."

She thanks me before making her way to the washroom and locking the door behind her. I sincerely hope that she can manage, after all that she said earlier, but I can hardly ask or offer to give her assistance. I could not do so if we were married - particularly not with guests within earshot.

Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson would appear to have given my dear fiancée all the instruction that she could need, for she manages perfectly well and is much more like her usual self when she returns to my side. Thank goodness for that! It is one less thing for me to fret about.

Following a restorative cup of tea, served with a few sandwiches and cakes, we agree to call upon Inspector G. Lestrade at his home.

I must confess that, though I want to show Miss Lestrade off to her ancestor, I still feel slightly apprehensive - supposing he is less than pleased, when he learns of our engagement? What if he tries to talk her out of it - might he succeed? I am certainly not the best choice and I am all too aware of that.

Beth takes my hand as the five of us trudge together. "You look nervous," she whispers. "This was your idea; I thought you wanted to see your old friend."

I nod. "I do," I reply, just as softly. "But he may not be pleased to see me - or to hear of our engagement."

She chuckles and squeezes my hand. "It'll be OK."

"We are in public, in the wrong era for such open displays of familiarity, Holmes," Watson's voice reminds me, close to my ear.

With a murmured apology, I adopt a less intimate manner with my fiancée, as if she is a client. Surely I have not forgotten how to be aloof! Has she changed me so very much?

By the time that we reach the Lestrades' little house, near to the place of Inspector G. Lestrade's work, we are all quite footsore and weary. It is a longer trudge than I remember and we have all done rather a lot of walking, today. Evening is fast approaching, when my old friend cheerfully greets and admits us.

"What brings you here, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" he asks cordially, while his wife takes our outdoor clothing. "Not a case, surely?"

I smile at him jovially. "No, not a case. Tell me, do Watson and I look different, to you?"

"Well, yes, now that you come to mention it. Your voices, not so much, but you look... different. Yes. What did you do? Find something to restore your youth? You'll make a fortune!"

I chuckle. "That was rather a good guess, seeing as the truth is much more far fetched. Beth, would you care to tell him your side of the story?"

My fiancée begins by telling him who she is and why she came to restore myself and Watson to life. I then jump in (just a little bit hastily, to keep her from revealing the news of our engagement too quickly) and tell him of the time machine that I have come by.

The old Yarder and his kindly wife are only too pleased to embrace our Miss Lestrade as a member of their family and are both shocked and delighted to hear that she is herself an Inspector of the Yard, in her own era.

As we settle ourselves in the Lestrade Family's parlour, Beth tells her ancestors (and the other members of the small party) a little about herself.

"It's kinda funny. I mean, I feel like I've always known you all - I know Watson 'n' Holmes best, from Watson's journals, but he described you 'n' the other Yardies in a lot o' detail, too. And uh... I've read a lot about you - and your colleagues - Jeremy. I knew quite a lot about you before we met."

I give him a nod of confirmation, for I can vouch for that.

He turns to his friend, seated beside him, with an expression of (somewhat) humble disbelief. "Wow!"

'Wow' indeed. I wonder whether all actors are so well remembered - and, if that is not the case - what it is that makes this actor so special. I really must do some research, when I have the opportunity to do so.

"Would I be right in thinking, then, that that's why you came here? That you wanted to meet me?" Lestrade asks, his brow furrowed as he endeavours to understand.

She shrugs. "I guess so. Sherlock wanted me to experience his own time, so I can understand him better. But, yeah, I wanted to know you, seeing as I had the chance."

He smiles warmly. "I'm glad. I am pleased that I have had a chance to know you. Can I ask, though... You and Mr. Holmes seem to get along quite well. Do you find that easy? I mean, after all, I count him as one of my friends, now, but I found it much easier to take to Doctor Watson."

I do not recall the little man ever calling me his friend before. Could I have forgotten?

"I was always fond of you, as well, Inspector," I admit quietly, as I recall that he was one of the Yarders who died on the job, only a year or two before my retirement. Criminals were becoming bolder, more violent - a routine case had gone wrong. Did he ever know that he was counted amongst my small number of friends?

The man is gazing at me somewhat strangely. "Really? I never thought you cared much about anyone - not even the good doctor, here."

"That is the best protection that I can give to myself or my family and friends," I respond, by way of explanation.

He nods, his eyes down. "Yes. I suppose so."

"Have I done something wrong?"

He meets my gaze and smiles. "Oh! No, it isn't that, Mr. Holmes. I was just thinking that I have never really done anything to deserve your friendship. All I ever do is try to outdo you, after all."

"Well, all that I ever did was to show off, as far as I recall. I do not suppose that it was ever undeserved."

Brett is looking from one of us to the other. "Well, what a melancholic lot we are," he remarks, turning to Beth. "Why don't you tell us something about your time? I'm sure Mr. Lestrade will be interested."

My fiancée squirms ever so slightly. "I think I might be able to do better than that. If Sherlock doesn't mind."

Oh, dear God! What is she going to do?

"You asked earlier, Inspector, whether I find it easy to get on with Sherlock. Well, yes, actually. Let me tell you about it..."

All eyes are on her now. The expectant silence stretches. I should like very much to lock myself away somewhere but, as a guest, I cannot.

"I guess I always thought of Sherlock as my friend," says she, slowly. "I knew what he was like before I met him, so it was easy to get used to him and I just found it easy to like him.

"Then there was this one case, where we found ourselves up against a pretty influential criminal - remember that, Sherlock? He was related to our Prime Minister and he was pretty rich and powerful. He gave us some pretty impressive threats and I was starting to think that the most I could do was get myself fired."

I smile to myself, for she had not let it show it at all.

"Well, just as I was starting to wonder if we should back down, Holmes here stepped forward. The guy had a choice, he said - give himself up or get himself crushed by our Sherlock Holmes. Well, he just laughed, o' course, and said we were the ones who had to make a choice. You know what these people are like. Anyway, Holmes wouldn't back down - 'We stand for justice', he said."

I notice that some of the pairs of eyes are now on me and do my utmost to pay them no heed.

"What happened?" asks Brett, as his eyes bore into me.

Beth smirks. "He says: 'There's no such thing as justice,' and Sherlock stands up really straight, so he's as tall as possible, and says: 'O' course there is! As long as just one man stands for it, it exists'," her expression becomes a little shy. "That's when I realised I love 'im."

This was months - at least - before I gave our relationship any thought at all, for I always believed that companionship was all that I would ever want and felt sure that no woman would be satisfied with that. How patient she was!

Brett is nodding his head. "My wife chose me, as well. I think it should be for the lady to decide."

Mr. Lestrade gapes at us in disbelief. "What's this? You're married?"

"Not yet," Beth tells him with a small smile. "We're engaged. We have been for just over three years, now. He proposed in 2108."

Burke shakes his head. "It still sounds strange to me, when you talk about dates so far into the future as if it's already happened."

"I'm glad you said that," Mr. Lestrade confesses. "Tell me... How do you and your friend come to know Mr. Holmes? I don't think I've met you, before."

"Oh!" he smiles. "We're actors, Jeremy and I. In the 1980s, we play Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson for uh... a production."

"Then you are both from the future, as well."

Brett smiles. "Oh, yes. We came to meet Holmes and Watson because our fan here," he nods to my fiancée, "is a fan. A very kind one, at that."

Beth smiles and reddens slightly. "Well, I grew up watching you. I always wished I could've met you."

"How sweet you are!" says he, before turning to smile at me. "It is little wonder that she has changed you so much."

"You should watch her make an arrest - or, perhaps, find yourself on the receiving end of her fury - you would not say so then," I assure him. "She is like no woman that I have ever encountered before."

My fiancée blushes again. Dare I embarrass her further?

"Do you know, Watson, I first came to realise that this is a lady who needs no protection on my first night in the 22nd Century - I was finding it difficult to sleep, what with the renewed energy of my newly rejuvenated body and the knowledge that I had much to learn and to become accustomed to."

Now all eyes are on me and I realise much too late that I am not going to be able to tell this tale without at least touching upon some humiliation of my own.

"I rose from my bed without a sound and took a walk of the grounds, belonging to the friend with whom I was staying (Sir Evan Hargreaves, who in fact is responsible for both Watson's rejuvenation and my own). It was a somewhat foggy night, so I did not intended to remain outside for long.

"Just as I turned to go back, I saw Miss - Inspector - Lestrade. She had her back to me. Not meaning to startle her, but with my habitual stealth, I crept forward and rested a hand upon her shoulder.

"I expected her to turn to face me. Perhaps I expected some surprise on her part. What I most certainly did not expect was for her to tightly grip my wrist and to throw me over her shoulder, before I had had a chance to react."

Beth is bright red and glaring dangerously at me. "You scared me, you idiot! That's what I do, when I feel someone grab me from behind. What the zed do you expect?"

Mr. Lestrade pats her arm. "Our modern-day women aren't usually as... capable."

"Indeed not," I agree. "But I must confess that I like that capability and self-assurance in you, Beth."

She lowers her eyes somewhat shyly. "I'm a Lestrade. It's in the blood."

"It certainly is," agrees her ancestor with a bright smile.

"Your ring looks expensive, Beth," Mrs. Lestrade cuts in, changing the subject neatly.

"Well, you know Sherlock Holmes - I say I don't want anything too showy, so he gets me the biggest rock you can fit on a finger. He never listens."

Watson gives a chuckle. "Well, that is how Holmes shows affection, you know. Being a man of a stoic disposition, he tends to say things with actions or presents, rather than words."

Thank you, Watson. Why on Earth did he say that? I merely shrug. "Well, I have learnt that one cannot take one's possessions with one. Besides, nobody likes a miser."

Watson flushes. It would appear that he has just realised that he has told our old acquaintance far too much. "Of course."

"You've changed a lot," Mr. Lestrade remarks. It would appear that he has not realised that Watson was in fact implying that I have always been secretly generous.

I shrug. "I have learnt much. With experience comes wisdom."

He smiles and leans back languidly as he crosses his short legs before him. "It certainly does."

"Lestrade, I have a problem," I confess, coming to business at last. "We plan to remain here for a few days, but it would never do for Beth to stay at Baker Street with us. I am a bachelor and Watson a widower."

"Oh! That isn't a problem at all," his wife instantly declares. "George, Beth can stay here, can't she? There is plenty of room."

Beth thanks her gratefully. "But I'd hate to be any trouble."

"You'll be in nobody's way," George (did I ever know his Christian name?) Lestrade is quick to reassure her. "It'll be a nice change for Sylvia - won't it, dearest? - it's usually colleagues of mine, staying here, if anything. Usually men called in, during big cases that need extra pairs of hands."

His descendant grins at him. "That's funny! I've got a couple o' sofa beds - you know, couches that can convert into beds - in my apartment, for colleagues in need of somewhere to crash. London hotels cost a fortune, don't they?"

Her ancestor smirks. "It's nice to know that the old Lestrade hospitality is still as much a tradition as the career choices. I think I might be happier about it when you have a man about the place, though - capable woman or no."

Well, he has always been like that. Much like his descendant (who currently looks rather offended by his last remark), he was always as kind as he was tenacious. Again I wonder whether I ever truly appreciated him, let alone thought to show it. I wonder if it is too late to try to make amends in some way.