Fiona parks her bicycle into the storage area runs upstairs while pulling off her coat and enters the drawing-room to sit by her wife. She whispers, "Hi."
Alaya pulls her wife close and hands her a sandwich.
Fiona bites with vigour.
Mother Vastra smiles.
"In two days we shall be confronting a new enemy. I made inquires of support, for now we should assume that we are going alone. We all know our weaknesses and our strengths, we can do this. I will be carrying the cricket bat?"
Fiona is trying to swallow and holding up a hand like a child answering a question in primary school, "Why would I not carry my cricket bat?"
"You will be a target."
"I am going to carry my cricket bat." She gives a determined look to her family. "I will carry it on my back, like I usually do when I ride my bicycle."
"Will you be open to handing it off? It might be the smartest option when the time comes."
Fiona looks down at her half eaten sandwich and looks up to Mother Vastra, "I am sorry. I do not want anyone wounded or killed because of something of mine."
"We share burdens in this family together."
"It is unbalanced."
"Truly, that is what you see?"
Fiona nods.
Alaya touches her wife's hand and half a sandwich by default, "If you think there is an opportunity for balance in this family, there isn't. We all have issues, burdens, failures, sadness and even embarrassment ... Have you not been paying attention?"
"There isn't a life that doesn't struggle and we seem to prosper with each unexpected demand."
Fiona looks to her wife and offers a smile.
"Your bicycle chain did you break it yourself?"
Fiona nods no.
"If you never broke your chain, how long would you have come to my home?"
"Probably. Yes, after I finished my higher education."
Mother Vastra and Mother Jenny quickly glance toward each other, their ears are attentive.
Alaya shocked, "Why?"
"I had much on my schedule, I barely had time for sleep. My letters were so sporadic, I felt guilty when I could not respond immediately."
August 1911
Paternoster Row, London
It is not unusual to see monks and clergy walking Paternoster Row. Many walk in private meditation while others hold the tradition praying the Lord's Prayer in Latin.
The publishers and religion coexists on this street for generations.
The only odd thing is a young red-haired woman on her bicycle weaving in and out of pedestrian traffic.
The woman dismounts to enters a publisher's establishment.
A tall monk walks by the bicycle leans down to tie his untraditional clergy garb combat boots. It was quick, no one was actually paying attention, his arm hand pop out of the robe wearing a wide leather pocketed arm bracer he dislodges the bicycle chain one cog to the left. He peeks under the canvas to see the typewriter. 'Yes, this is the girl.' After which He stands up and pretends to focus on what seems to be a worn bible.
The young red-haired woman exits the establishment notices the monk tall blue eyes monk smiling with dimples, "Guid day."
The monk bows and responds in a Scottish accent, "Hello. A Guid day to you too. Where are ye from with that amazing voice?" The red hair is curly but under control. 'Yes, this is the one.'
Fiona looks up to the almost six foot tall man, "I was born in Tobermory on the Isle of Mull."
"That is a pretty place. Not far from Iona Abbey. I have been there. Do you miss the air?"
"Yes, I do. But I am here for an education. I plan on returning to the Highlands when I am able."
"What brings you ..." He no longer has her courtesy.
The young woman looks past the monk down the street, she brings her attention back to the monk. "I am sorry, I have a schedule to keep."
The monk moves to stand behind the young Scottish woman, lowers himself to eye level, almost laying his cleft chin on her shoulder. He examines the shared street view. He smiles as he sees Alaya behind the curtains at Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint's home holding a cup of tea. "Oh, do you have a friend expecting you?"
Fiona blushes.
The monk smiles as he senses the young Sottish woman's body temperature rise and her cheeks flushed.
"Is the the one behind the lace with a tea cup?"
"She is there already? My vision is a bit lacking." Fiona's heart flutters.
The monk nods. "Why don't you go and say hello?"
"Oh no. I must not."
"Why?"
"My studies, my obligations and my work. I have no time for such luxuries as ..."
"Romance?"
Fiona is stunned. "Social opportunities." She looks at the monk squinting to focus on the woman in the lace woman. "What kind of a holy man are you?"
"I am not a proper holy man, not originally from here. Are you an earnest woman"
"I gather by your choice of footwear and your words." Fiona wonders why she is confessing such matters to this monk, "Yes, I am earnest."
"I come from a place where individuals do not use quaint little categories to define their lives."
"Where might that be?"
"Would you believe colony far far away and way into the future?"
Fiona thinks for a moment. "I can accept that answer, as I have for others that have entered my life."
"Good. Now what are you going to do about your window woman?"
"Nothing. Like I said, no time." Fiona gives a look of anxiety, "I am so sorry I am truly off schedule." She mounts her bicycle and grabs the handle bars.
"The woman in the window deserves a chance to be patient." The monk looks straight into the deep green eyes, "She is more than a hung painting behind lace."
"She is not a painting, she is a sculpture." Fiona smiles at the blue-eyed monk, "She is my Galatea."
"Luckily there is is no god required to bring her to life. All you have to do is knock and correspond at your leisure. It is a safe opportunity to develop a friendship without giving up your schedule. Have the courage."
"Correspond?" Fiona smiles at the new option fluttering around in her brain. "Guid Day."
The monks watch as the young red-haired woman mount bicycle and to pedal two rotations and the chain fall off completely. He observes the fruits of his labour as the young woman drags the heavy bicycle to the front of house number 13.
The monks walk away, smiling under his hoods as the sound of Alaya's giggle emanates from inside the 13 Paternoster Row.
He goes around the corner into a close, pulls the robe over his head and hands it to a thin beautiful man enjoying a bar of chocolate and plants a kiss on the chocolate dipped lips. "Thank you," He walks away, leaving a stunned half-dressed monk.
He looks down at his tattered brown journal and crosses out another task from his list.
"What changed your mind?" Mother Vastra asks.
"My bicycle chain broke."
"Bicycle chains break all the time. Were you encouraged? Inspired?" Mother Vastra's curiosity is on high alert.
Fiona remembers the unorthodox monk, "A tall monk with blue eyes and charm."
"I want to hear this tale of the blue-eyed charming holy man, " Alaya says with a bit of jealousy.
"Oh?" Pulling her wife close, "He had a broken Scottish accent, blue eyes, tall almost six feet and wore military type boots underneath his cloister robe."
Mother Vastra smiles as another puzzle piece has been added to the mystery. "We must focus." She smiles at her daughter's wife, "Fiona, please allow me to carry the cricket bat? "
Fiona smiles to herself, "Mother Vastra, may I use your katanas?"
Mother Vastra squints her eyes, "I am at a loss in response. I am caught."
"I will concede that there might be a situation where the cricket bat must be wielded by someone else, all I ask is that it remains in our family?" Fiona acknowledges as she takes a small bite from her sandwich.
Everyone nods in agreement and secretly hope there isn't a situation that anyone wants to pick up the cricket bat out of Fiona's hands.
"Good, now let's get back to the telegram. The date and time are obvious. This location, Kitchen Garden Gate, is the quandary? Practically every estate has one." Mother Vastra looking at the large street map of london.
Fiona takes another bite of her sandwich and chews while she watches the Flint Family solve a new riddle.
"What about those no longer estates? Parks?" Mother Jenny offers.
Mother Vastra loves when her wife speaks up and was about to hold a brain session with her wife but stopped herself. It would be better to let her daughter find her words, 'I like her words'.
"Would a park have a kitchen?" Alaya asks her mother Jenny. "We know it is a garden gate."
"It could maintain the name even though the kitchen is no longer existing." Mother Jenny smiles at her controlled wife, she can feel the Silurian's desire to comment. "So what would have a garden gate?"
Alaya thinks out loud, "Estates ... Land ... Lots ... Allotments ... Parishes ... Plantations ... Plots ... Paddocks ..."
Fiona waves her hand as she is trying to chew and swallow her food, "I played at Richmond Park for a cricket match. There is a lovely field perfect for cricket." Fiona announces and gets up to point the location with her free hand.
"Here we go with cricket, again." Mother Jenny shakes her head while rolling her eyes.
"There are gates all around Richmond Park and it is right next to Teck Plantation." Fiona points to an open area within Richmond Park.
"Is there a kitchen garden gate?"
"I do not know."
"Let's go and investigate."
"Alaya, please may I make another sandwich before we go?" Fiona asks before she takes the last bite of the one in her hand.
Alaya smiles as she hands her wife a tin and canteen, "This is warm hot chocolate."
Fiona starts to tear, "You are amazing." She kisses her wife with such happiness she didn't care what her wife's mothers thought ... her wife deserves more than just words.
They get in and out of the taxi going around Richmond Park and all around Tech Plantation. There is it, a gate, hidden in the back, off the path.
It opens to rolling fields with a thick forests barrier.
Alaya takes her wife in hand as she walk to around examining and studying the area.
Mother Vastra and Mother Jenny walk in the opposite direction surveying the land.
Soon after thirty minutes they meet up to continue around back to the original gate.
All four get into a taxi and return home.
"I am sorry, I must get some sleep." She kisses her half-Silurian wife good night.
The three remain sharing notes, making adjustments to their map and even setting up a battle plan.
It is past two in the morning when Alaya slips into the bed.
Fiona is fast asleep, but soon moans contentment when her wife's cool body is covering her back.
Alaya holds her wife tighter than usual and hopes that the hospital keeps her busy the next few nights.
