==Chapter 14==

Welcome Home

I scarcely know where to begin, but love is always a safe place.

– Emily Dickinson

The visit to Windsor and the dinner with Queen Victoria had felt to Beth like a cross between a dream and a tightrope balancing act. Afterwards, she found that she couldn't quite relax until entering her own front door. "Okay, seriously, are you sure I did okay?" she asked Sherlock, her words seeming to trip over themselves. "Because there were a couple of times—"

Holmes cut her off with a kiss. "You were wonderful, sweetheart. Her Majesty was delighted with you." The Queen had even said as much to him during a private moment; he couldn't have been prouder of how Beth had risen to the occasion.

Beth made a noise of uncertainty. Victoria had been very kind, but even so... "I was bloody terrified."

He put his arms around her, murmuring in sympathy, "I know. At least it's over."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank goodness..." Not that the Queen had been stern or anything less than welcoming, but Beth hadn't trusted herself for one second to not do something improper. She couldn't go through that again!

"I've spoken to Mycroft; there'll be no more court appearances for either of us, unless absolutely necessary."

"Oh, that's good." She shook her head. "Because I really never want to do that again. At least, not in this time period." There were other royals, however, that she wouldn't mind meeting...

He looked at her curiously as they headed upstairs. "The English monarchy still exists in your time?" Something he hadn't bothered researching last time he was there.

She nodded, not surprised but nevertheless amused that he hadn't known that while he'd lived there. "Mm-hmm, King George VII, the son of King William V and Queen Katherine, better and affectionately known as Will and Kate. They were one of the most popular Royal couples ever. William died a few years ago—for me—but the Queen Mother's still ticking." She smiled slightly, recalling the photos and stories and videos she'd seen, including one absolutely adorable picture of the couple brandishing Harry Potter wands at each other. "I would love to meet them as a young couple."

He smiled back, intrigued. "Another one for the list, hm?" It might be wise to begin compiling one.

"I suppose so, yeah..." The sitting room was deserted as they entered, and they sat together on the settee, enjoying the temporary quiet and the fire's warmth, Beth relaxing against her husband. "Sherlock... how often do you suppose you're out on cases?"

"Not nearly as regularly as I'd like," he said ruefully. "Watson once compared detective work to catching a cab: you can wait forever for just one, and then three arrive all at once. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just trying to figure out..." She shrugged. "...what to, um... do with myself, I guess..." She had no more ideas now than she had when she had talked about it with Sally.

Holmes nodded thoughtfully. "Somehow I didn't think you'd be content to follow me around all the time. It is a great pity the police force won't take women for a few more decades."

"Mm." It would still be twenty years until women were allowed merely as constables, let alone detectives... "I don't know what to do..."

"If I may ask... why exactly did you want to join the force? I gather there was more to it than simply following tradition."

She sighed. "Well, no, that was a big part of it." Two hundred years of proud police service, begun by one very brave man. Of course she'd wanted to be part of that, her own family history. "I wanted to be like my dad. And I wanted... well..." I wanted to be as good as you, or near enough. She blushed and shook her head—talk about delusions of grandeur.

Holmes's cheeks were turning red, too. "And I still have trouble understanding why..." How on earth had meeting her hero in the flesh not completely put her off?

She frowned, tilted her head, and looked up at him quizzically. After all this time, this same question...?

"Despite my literary counterpart having his uses," her husband sighed, "there were times when I fervently wished I'd never given Watson permission to write him." Softly, "It was only when I saw the light in your eyes while watching Jeremy Brett on stage... that I first truly wanted to be him..." Blast, he'd meant to say 'be like him'! Funny how the truth just slips out sometimes, isn't it?

Her eyes widened, a whole new meaning given to his attitude in 1988. "Oh, honey..." She raised a hand to his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. "I think there's less of a disconnect than you think." Much less, really—she had just had the bad luck of getting to know Sherlock Holmes at his very worst. "And, to be honest, physical similarities aside... if I had to choose between Jeremy's version of you and the real you, I would not pick Jeremy's. I love that version, and him, dearly... but he didn't always get it right. You are the same man..." She smiled ruefully, uncertain of how he would feel about this—it never really came up. "...that I fell in love with as a little girl." Brilliant, impetuous, imperious, more than a little dorky, and absolutely adorable.

Holmes's cheeks now felt like glowing coals. "Well..." he murmured, leaning in to kiss her, "I hope I was worth waiting for?"

Goose. Best to lighten the mood. "Absolutely not," she returned, trying to deadpan but unable to keep from breaking into a grin.

A snort of laughter escaped him. "Oh no? And what about you, eh?" He nuzzled her, murmuring darkly, "Bound for life to this wicked, wanton hoyden, I shall be a shadow of my former self within a twelvemonth..."

Drama queen. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

On a sudden, wicked impulse, he wrapped his arms around Beth's waist and started tickling her.

She gasped in surprise, then giggled helplessly, writhing and flailing. "No—Sherlock!—oh my gosh—stop it—you are—ridiculous...!"

He took pity on her and stopped, kissing her cheek from behind. "Mm, so your great-grandfather informs me. Dearest, I've no wish for you to live in my shadow, either. If there's anything I can do to help..."

Panting, she leaned back against him. "I don't know... I don't even know what I want... All my life, I wanted to have adventures... and when I finally had them... they were... too much..." She sighed. "I don't feel much like doing that again for a while..." Maybe not ever, except for the fact that she already was beginning to feel restless; adventure was in her blood and there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Give it some time, love." He kissed her hair. "Ordinarily, you still wouldn't even have graduated yet."

"And that's another thing—I haven't even been to college..." And she'd been excited to go...

"Well, I'm sure we could work something out – if you wished to go, that is." There were a good number of colleges open to women nowadays, and Beth wouldn't be the youngest ever entrant at eighteen, not by a long way.

She shook her head in frustration. "I don't know—I don't even know what I'd study!" What kind of degree could she even get aside from something like a BA? "Sherlock, I really don't know what to do!"

"Oh, Beth..." Holmes rocked her gently. "I know it's frustrating, love... but before making any decisions, you need to give yourself time to come back down." Almost everyone here had been living on adrenaline for months, and the aftermath wouldn't be fun for any of them.

"I know, I know... Just don't be surprised if I mope a lot in the process."

"We can keep each other company, then." He kissed her cheek, and began unpinning her hair. "Believe me, love, I do understand. Watson had to cope with me going through much the same withdrawal when I came back to London last year – and that was after three years' running and hiding!"

She smiled, humming at his touch. "How long did it take to recover?"

"I'm not sure... although I've no doubt I did before the Doctor came back." Finished with the pins, he tucked them into his coat pocket and started combing out the twists with his fingers. "Watson helped a great deal, for which I am very thankful, as it took a few months for any serious work to come my way again." He sighed ruefully. "One of the disadvantages of pretending to be dead – it takes rather a long time to resurrect oneself in the eyes of the public."

"Awww, I'll bet." I've always wondered how the public took that. She reached for his free hand and squeezed it. "Poor sweetie."

Holmes squeezed back lightly, wrapped both their arms around her waist, holding her close. "You still haven't heard about the first time I met the Doctor, have you?" Stories always seemed to help Beth relax, even when he was the one telling them.

She melted completely in his hold, smiling contentedly. "Mm, no, I don't think so." Only random snippets, here and there. "What happened?"

"Well, d'you remember my telling Watson about visiting Tibet in 'The Empty House'? I was still travelling as the explorer Sigerson at the time..."

The next morning, Holmes went out to visit West's family, regretfully but firmly refusing any company. Watson silently wished his friend all the best with that painful duty, then returned to his own: seated at the writing desk, Kathy dozing in her basket bed at his feet, pencil tapping on his teeth as he pondered how best to open the narrative for the case. Perhaps something about Holmes going stir-crazy with all that fog...

Having finished a couple of chores for the morning, Beth wandered into the sitting room, intent on finding a book to read, and stopped short at the sight of the sleeping baby. She walked slowly and quietly to the bookcase and gave John a little wave of hello.

He smiled at her hesitantly, then asked, "Ah, Beth, can you spare a few minutes?"

"Of course." She folded her hands behind her back and leaned lightly against the bookcase. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm updating my notes for this latest case, but there's a certain segment I'm still missing. If you'd care to assist...?"

She frowned thoughtfully, doing a quick mental recap of what she'd been a part of in the 'final version,' as it were, of the case. "Sure. What do you need?"

"Your meeting with Lestrade at Scotland Yard last..." Watson checked his notebook; "last Friday week, the 22nd." Good heavens, had that really been less than a fortnight ago?

She tilted her head. "You haven't asked Sherlock?"

"He's next, just as soon as I can pin him down," Watson grinned wryly. "I need both your memories for this."

She returned the grin, snickering softly. "Ah, all right, I'll do my best… And I'm not sure how good that will be, just warning you now…" Stories that she had read upwards of two dozen times were clearer in her mind than her own memories—most of them, anyway.

"You'll be fine – besides, you're the only person who knows how much the written scene will differ from the real one!"

She winced. "Yeah… I'm not sure I ought to be helping you there, though..." At his quizzical look, she tried to explain. "I mean, I don't want to give you anything that I've read that I thought came from you and make it come out of nowhere and create a paradox." She winced again—well, that sounded coherent. "…I… am not sure how much sense that made, sorry."

"Ah, I see. Honestly, Beth, I'd be more inclined to call it a Time Loop than a paradox, as long as nothing new is added. But first I need to know what actually did happen, then we can edit from there." Watson added gently, "I do realise this might seem rather daunting." It certainly was for him! His first write-up since learning how crucial his stories would actually be to so many... Second guessing oneself was no fun at the best of times, and it was going to be at least as difficult for Holmes, solving all those cases in the first place.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah… might go easier if you ask me questions..."

He brightened, readying his pencil again. "All right, then. Was anyone else there besides Lestrade and Mycroft?"

She shook her head. "It was just the four of us in the Inspector's office. Sherlock introduced me to Mycroft and Geoffrey, and Mycroft already knew so he was able to take it in stride, but I swear poor Geoffrey nearly died of shock." Not that she could blame him! Anyone who might have thought that she hadn't been surprised to realize that Sherlock returned her feelings would have been gravely mistaken!

Watson couldn't help chortling, well able to imagine Lestrade's face from how he'd looked at the wedding.

She smiled ruefully. "And then..." She bit her lip, trying to recall actual dialogue. "He asked Sherlock about his progress on the case, and Sherlock filled them in, told them about Oberstein."

Still scribbling, the doctor winced at a sudden thought: "I suppose he had to tell Lestrade we broke in?"

She nodded. "I think that Geoffrey was rather resigned to it."

"Well, it was in a good cause." Watson's grin was completely unrepentant. "And then?"

"Well, Sherlock told them about the fake advertisement in the paper. Geoffrey was pleased with the prospect—" Beth stopped and blinked, taken aback for a moment by her the development in her own vocabulary—"and Sherlock invited them both to the stakeout at Caulfield Gardens."

"Which was soon followed by a second invitation, I gather?" How he wished he could have been there for that. It was funny, when you thought about it: the Inspector had taken Frozen Time entirely in stride, but finding out his colleague was engaged to be married...

She colored slightly in remembrance. "Yes... and then Mycroft gave Sherlock the marriage license."

"Right." Though that bit would definitely have to be left out... Watson sighed as he flipped back through his notebook, looking glumly at all the notes he'd boxed or underlined.

Beth frowned. "What's the matter?"

"It just seems so unfair... Without your help, this case would never have been solved... and out of everyone involved, you three girls receive the least recognition."

She winced and shifted uncomfortably, dropping her gaze to the floor. "Yeah..." She was excited to start on Sherlock's memoirs, because it would be amazing, but it also burned that even Sally would get a one-off mention later on in the canon and Beth never could. She'd already read the as-yet-unpublished stories, and there was never the slightest hint that Sherlock Holmes was romantically attached to anyone, let alone married. And after everything she'd been through... "Kinda sucks," she said in a small voice.

"Mm..." He'd done the math, less than half of the published cases hadn't happened yet... even so, what must it be like for Beth, with all those Fixed Points to keep track of? Could it be that she was... feeling strong-armed, forced to follow a destiny not of her own making? But those stories aren't all, Beth knows that! Does she? Does Sally? Maybe... maybe there's a way you can help them both.

She looked up questioningly at the thoughtfulness in his tone.

"...It would only be a paradox if you'd read about yourself before you left with us in the TARDIS, yes?"

She frowned. "Doctor, I've read all of your stories."

"As far as you knew," Watson answered innocently. "If you'll recall, I have needed to use a nom de plume before."

Her frown deepened before she remembered the alter ego he'd used in different decades of the 21st century. "Yeah..."

"Sixty is only the official number, Beth. There's no reason I can't write more, as long as they're published under a different name."

Her eyes went wide. He was really offering more stories?

Watson put down his pencil with a sigh. "Sally tells me my editor's going to be getting most of the credit for the 'canon', anyhow." Would that be his own doing, or Doyle's?

Beth's expression turned sympathetic—the sad thing was that everybody would get the short end sooner or later, Sherlock and John included. "I'm sorry... Would you really, though?" She couldn't keep the hope from creeping into her voice. "Really write... more?"

The doctor nodded, smiling at the new light in Beth's eyes. "It would be my privilege."

Her heart was suddenly too full to speak. She straightened, stepped forward, and hugged him. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

It was mid-afternoon, and Kathy was ready for her next nap but missing her blanket. Sally went down to the sitting room to retrieve it, then paused when she saw Sherlock alone in the room. Oops. "Oh, sorry," she said aloud, "I just... ah, Kathy's blanket..." Oh, well done, very coherent.

"Oh, er..." Holmes looked around and spotted a heap of blue flannel on the settee, half hidden behind a cushion. "Is that it?"

She nodded, hoping she didn't look as flustered as she felt as she went to pick it up. "Yes, sorry."

Holmes awkwardly waved a hand, rather more forcefully than he'd intended, sighing at himself. He hadn't grown accustomed yet to the house being this crowded, and everyone was still tip-toeing around each other. "Sally... You really needn't apologise, you know, for taking up space." Then the detective blushed as he realised how that had sounded! "I mean..."

"No, no, it's okay..." She didn't quite meet his eyes, though—what, after all this time, is wrong with me? You mean, aside from the fact that this is only your second private conversation with Sherlock Holmes ever? Yeah... "I'm just, ah... still getting used to actually taking up space here, I suppose."

Holmes nodded sympathetically. "Watson told me about this place becoming a museum – did you ever visit?"

"Once, yeah. Dragged my friend Kathy with me." Kathy had complained about it until they got there, and then she'd wanted to have her photo taken with every mannequin in the building. "It was fun, but..." She looked around her and smiled, still a bit in awe of the place, an important piece of history that she was now a part of. "It was really nothing like it is now." As with any such museum, it was easy to see how much love had gone into the Sherlock Holmes Museum, but even so... At the end of the day, it was just a building housing a collection of antiques and memorabilia, not the home it was now.

"I should hope not!" was Holmes's smiling but heartfelt answer. He never wanted to have to visit Baker Street in the future; seeing his home turned into an exhibit in a glass case would be almost as bad as the flat having no trace of him or Watson in it.

Sally's smile turned sympathetic—she couldn't even imagine how it would feel to visit your home after it was turned into a museum. Deciding to change the subject, she asked, "How's Beth doing? She seems to be adjusting pretty well here. Well, I mean, half the time I see her, she's half-frantic about getting this or that right, but the other half... She's really happy. The happiest I've ever seen her." Sally hasn't realized until the wedding that she was used to seeing Beth looking sad, resignedly so, a sadness Sally could sometimes take the edge off of but never take away completely. And now the younger girl was smiling so often, her blue eyes bright and full of a joy Sally had never seen in her before. Sometimes seeing her that happy made Sally want to cry.

A rapidly reddening Holmes couldn't think how to respond to that, though he suspected his face was eloquent enough!

She grinned at his reaction. "Well, it's true!" Then her grin faded. "You have no idea... well, maybe you do... what she was like, ah, a few months ago. It's really nice to see her smile so much."

He nodded, trying to smile himself – he did appreciate the sentiment, even if Sally's compliments were like coals of fire on his forehead... A discomfiture you earned, just remember! You don't know how fortunate you are that she forgave you so readily...

Sally began to feel nervous at Sherlock's continued silence—it would be nice when she'd know him well enough to get a decent read on him. Inability to read him notwithstanding, she decided to take the plunge with something she'd been meaning to tell him for a while. "Actually, I d-did want you to know that I'd meant to have a talk with you when the Doctor dropped us off. We just... kind of left before I could." She blushed.

Holmes's eyes widened, appalled. "Sally..." He'd never even considered that she might feel guilty, too!

She sank to the settee. "I mean, I wasn't the happiest with you, at the time, but you and John meant so much to each other and I understood that and the last thing I wanted was for the two of you to lose each other. It's painful, losing your best friend—I wouldn't wish that on anyone. And I really was going to tell you but then John came up and he was being angry and stubborn and—you were right about one thing: we hadn't known each other for very long and I didn't know how to handle him being like that. But I was actually going to come back the next day and have that talk, but then everything started falling apart..." She propped her chin in her hand, feeling miserable. "I should have gone with my first instinct: roost on the bed and refuse to move."

Holmes listened in sympathetic silence – partly because he was searching in vain for something comforting to say – and in the end, he simply got up and came over to sit beside her.

She glanced at him as he sat, then back down at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said softly, and shook her head. She had already told John this, but she had to tell Sherlock, too—if not for his forgiveness, then for her own peace of mind. "I should have tried harder with John—I really should have said something to you sooner! You two have something very special with each other, and I never wanted..." She blushed, recalling her conversation with John in the TARDIS medbay, talking about Mary and Sally's own future. "To be honest, I had been afraid... that I might end up always playing second fiddle to you."

Holmes smiled sadly; the irony of it... "So we were both afraid of the same thing." Sighing, "You seemed so... sure of yourself, so confident – and I think I envied you that, more than anything."

Sally looked up then, startled. "Well... that's a bit rich, coming from you." Excuse me, what are we trying to accomplish here, again? "Sorry, sorry!" She looked away in embarrassment for a moment, then back. "I think... all I was sure of... was that I loved John and he loved me. I guess I wasn't so much confident as... hopeful." She bowed her head—the fact that Sherlock had been in the wrong did not excuse her own responsibility in the affair. "I should have at least tried to have a real talk with you, long before anything went wrong... and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Sally..." He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her gently. "After everything I'd done to make you feel unwelcome, I can't blame you for hesitating." He wouldn't have blamed her for washing her hands of him completely, but thank God she hadn't.

She smiled faintly, grateful for the hug. "You were kind of a jerk." She paused, then continued shyly, "I'm glad you didn't stay one." Beth had been right about him, and for her sake and John's, Sally couldn't have been happier.

"Well..." Holmes smiled sheepishly, "I wouldn't be too optimistic about that..." It would be nice to think that his moments of acting like a spoilt child were over, but not very realistic.

She smirked. "Oh, I don't know, I don't think Beth would let you be." She grinned widely then—Beth was a tigress, and completely capable of keeping her husband in line.

He grinned back, the tension between his shoulders finally starting to dissipate. "Just don't forget, you're welcome to give me an earful as well if I become quite unbearable!"

She laughed. "Mm-hmm, I won't forget, though something tells me that having Mrs. Hudson and Beth around will be quite enough to keep you in line." Suddenly, she remembered that she was holding a blanket, and looked down at it. "And I should take this back upstairs."

Holmes nodded, letting her go, then turned abruptly before she could leave the room. "Sally?"

She stopped and looked back. "Yeah?"

The detective smiled shyly, blush returning. "Just for the record – and I know I probably should have said it a long time ago, but... welcome home." Sally had shown little sign that she missed the twenty-first century, but to leave everything she'd ever known behind to make a new life, here and now... and if Beth hadn't been able to stay, too, he hated to think how lonely that could have been, for both of them.

Sally beamed. "Thank you."

A/N from Sky: I actually find it difficult to do A/Ns for these chapters because they're so conversation-heavy and action-less. They are conversations that we feel needed to happen—and to be shown—but I feel like there's not much to comment on. We do hope, though, that you guys are still enjoying it! If, like me, you don't have anything specific to comment on, please just drop a review saying that you're still reading this and liking it! We'd greatly appreciate it!