A/N And here is one of my absolute favourite chapters. It was an absolute blast to write! Really had a lot of fun with this. I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter!

DreamonAlina I was a bit afraid that the conversation between Mary and Kyrie was a bit 'heavy' so I'm really glad to know you liked it and that it was good I kept it in. He won't say it often, but yes, Sherlock has decided that if his had to use a term of endearment, then 'my dear' is acceptable. Though, I kind of expect him to also start calling her 'Wife' after 'The Abominable Bride' episode!

Katt96 Sure, you can steal a hug. Don't let Kyrie notice though. She's quite protective and jealous :-)

Lovesagoodstory19 Haha, that's easy! I try to stay ahead of you guys! And merely copy and paste a new chapter each day (while also trying to make sure I add a couple of pages of new story). Which is kind of hard lately because I'm kind of stuck on a really hard part to write! I'm glad you enjoy the wedding section so fare :-)

Guest Thank you so much for your compliment and review. Hope to see you here more often! I'm really happy that you like what I've done with the story and that you think Kyrie fits well into it. It makes me all fuzzy and warm inside!

Thewickedprincess Awesome that you like my 'Hen night'! Thank you! I also really liked how Sherlock called her 'my dear'. New moment of growth for him! Also glad that you agree with my view how Molly would see/want a relationship with Sherlock and how it would turn out.

Okay, enjoy this new chapter. And please leave a review! I really want to know what you thought of this one!

SSS

Sherlock looked at the guests. "Now, you probably wonder where the embarrassment is I mentioned earlier. Short answer... right here," he said dryly. Kyrie grinned and thought back to that memorable part of the evening.

When the boys returned – not even two hours later after they left to have their 'Stag Night' – they were completely trousered and apparently under the impression that 221B Baker Street was the perfect venue to continue the partay.

Sherlock poured himself and John a stiff drink – as if they hadn't had enough already – and somehow they managed to rope Kyrie into playing Forehead Detective with them. John was grinning like an idiot when he wrote names on two rizla rolling papers and stuck one to her head and one to Sherlock's.

Sherlock had some trouble writing a name on a Rizla, but in the end he managed and he stuck it to John's head. He then wobbled over to her and grabbed her by her arms. "Who are you again?" he asked and peered at her Rizla. "Oh yes, you are," he said with a smirk. Kyrie rolled her eyes at him.

The boys stumbled over towards their armchairs on unsteady feet and flopped down. Kyrie sat down on the floor. Knowing exactly how bony his scrawny legs could feel, Kyrie pushed Sherlock's right leg to the side and went to sit between his legs, leaning against the soft cushion of the chair.

At first the boys just sat in their chairs, both slumped back, looking at each other with bleary eyes. John took the first turn. He peered at Sherlock's Rizla, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Am I a vegetable?" John asked.

Sherlock, cradling his glass of whiskey in one hand, pointed at him.

"You or the thing?"

They both started to snigger and Kyrie chuckled at their behaviour.

"Funny!" John said chuckling.

Sherlock lowered his head. "Thank you," he said a bit bashfully.

"Come on," John said, prodding him.

Sherlock raised his head again. "No, you're not a vegetable," he said, slurring the words.

"Your turn." John picked up his glass to take a swig.

"Errr... am I human?" Sherlock asked.

"Sometimes," John said.

"Can't have 'sometimes.' Has to be, um..." Sherlock had trouble finding the words and struggled to pull himself up in his chair, his feet kicking out as he did so.

"Only 'yes' or 'no' questions, John," Kyrie admonished him lightly.

"Yes, you're human." John put his glass back down and slumped back in his chair.

Sherlock leaned his arms on his legs, allowing his free hand to tangle in Kyrie's hair. She hummed in content. Drunk Sherlock was definitely less uptight than a sober Sherlock.

"Okay. And am I a man?" he asked for his next question.

"Yep," John said while Kyrie said, "Definitely!"

"Tall?"

"Hm-mm," Kyrie mumbled appreciatively.

John spread his hands wide in a sweeping 'I don't know' gesture. "Not as tall as people think."

"Hmm. Nice?"

"You can be if you want to be," Kyrie said sweetly and she turned her head to look at him. She giggled seeing the bleary look in his eyes.

"Ish," John said.

"Clever?"

"Very!" Kyrie said immediately.

"I'd say so," John told him.

"Yeah, you would," Sherlock mumbled, causing John to snort in humour. "Mm, am I important?" he then asked.

Kyrie looked up at him. "You are to me," she said softly. Sherlock smiled and lightly bumped his forehead against hers. His eyes were drooping a bit.

"To s-some people," John said, slurring the words.

Sherlock struggled himself up again. "Do 'people'..." he said, making air-quotes around the word in a less than complimentary tone. "... like me?"

John looked thoughtfully while reaching for his glass, without actually picking it up.

"I like you," Kyrie told him with a grin. "... a lot!"

"Of course you'd say that," John said, sounding slightly accusatory. "And no, they don't. You tend to rub 'em up the wrong way."

"Okay," Sherlock said as he slumped back in his chair. John was sniggering again. Sherlock leaned forward again when he had a sudden thought. "Am I the current King of England?" he asked.

"Are you...?" John dissolved in a fit of helpless laughter. "You know we don't have a king?"

"Don't we?" Sherlock asked puzzled.

"He's confused with Mycroft," Kyrie said with a fond smile. "Sweetie, Mycroft is not the king... Now, the queen? Maybe..."

Both boys started to giggle at the remark. Finally Sherlock leaned back again. "Your turn."

Kyrie thought for a moment. "Am I human?

"Yes," both of the boys said in unison.

"Woman?"

"Absolutely," John said. "Most definitely," Sherlock remarked dryly.

"Attractive?"

"Err... Um, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models," Sherlock said, shifting a bit in his seat.

"Yeah, but am I a beautiful woman?"

"I think Mary will allow me, this once, to say... yes, you are."

"You think?" Sherlock asked.

"'Course she bloody is," John said. "Idiot!"

Kyrie looked up at Sherlock and he blinked at her a couple of times. For a brief moment, he seemed to regain his focus on her. "You are..." he started, then paused to contemplate his next words. "... so beautiful, it's unbearable," he said softly.

John made a few approving noises behind her. Kyrie couldn't resist and briefly stole a sweet kiss from his lips. She could taste the beer and whiskey and especially the whiskey left a tingling sensation in her mouth.

Kyrie quickly pulled back before Sherlock could deepen the kiss. He was too trousered to even care about John's presence at the moment and she knew he would regret that in the morning.

Hmm, now what woman could Sherlock think of as being unbearably beautiful? He usually didn't think in terms like that. Maybe it was a generally accepted view? Perhaps a woman men might wage war over? Someone like Helen of Troy?

"Am I alive?"

"Yes," John said.

"And I'm very glad of it," Sherlock said heartfelt.

Hmm, no Helen of Troy then.

"Am I famous?"

"No," John immediately said. Sherlock didn't seem to agree entirely. "Famous by association?" he tried. But John shook his head. "No, doesn't count."

"Your turn, John," Kyrie said, pointing at him.

"Am I a woman?"

Sherlock instantly started chuckling again, his shoulders shaking with mirth and Kyrie smirked.

"What?" John asked.

"Yes," Kyrie and Sherlock said both once Sherlock had stopped giggling. He tried to hoist himself up again.

"Am I a pretty lady?" John asked, pointing up at his Rizla.

"I'd say...You used to be," Kyrie answered.

Sherlock leaned over to peer at the name. "I don't know who you are. I don't know who you're supposed to be," he admitted, causing Kyrie to erupt with a peal of laughter.

"You picked the name!" John said exasperated.

Sherlock flailed his free hand a bit. "Ah, but I picked it at random from the papers."

John slumped back in his seat. "You're not really getting the hang of this game, are you, Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't respond to that comment. "So, I am human, I'm not as tall as people think I am..."

He leaned back in the chair again. "I'm-I'm nice-ish, clever, important to some people, Kyrie likes me but otherwise I tend to rub people up the wrong way." He looked at Kyrie. "Are you sure I'm not the king of England. Or the queen... You know... Mycroft?"

"Your not Mycroft, sweetie. Let it go," Kyrie said, patting him on his leg.

Suddenly he laughed in delight. "Got it."

"Go on, then." John challenged him.

"I'm you, aren't I?"

Suddenly Mrs Hudson knocked on the open door and made herself known with her customary 'yoo-hoo'. When they looked up, they found her standing in the doorway, together with a young woman dressed in a nurse's outfit, wearing a rather plain cardigan over it.

"Client!" Mrs Hudson told them.

John managed to greet the woman with a decent, "Hello." Sherlock however, waved at her and the way he said 'Hello'... Kyrie rolled her eyes.

John invited the woman in with a gesture of his hands. "Come on," he said.

"Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?" she asked.

John smiled broadly at her. He raised his hand and started whistling a rising note through his teeth as he slowly pointed up to Sherlock's Rizla. Sherlock flashed her a demented looking grin.

To be honest, if that would have been Kyrie's first impression of him as his client, she would have run like hell!

The boys however, rose to their feet and wobbled their way over towards the sofa. Kyrie sighed, walked over to them and quickly removed the rolling papers from their heads, including her own.

When she walked back into the kitchen, she checked the name on her own Rizla. Her lips parted with a soft gasp and her eyes widened. The small paper read 'Sherlock's wife'. She blinked a couple of times, remembering his words... You are so beautiful, it's unbearable. She smiled and gazed at the paper a few lingering moments before she crumpled the rolling papers and tossed them in the bin.

She walked back into the living room and caught a part of their client's story.

"Maybe he wasn't quite as keen as I was..." she said, sounding a bit sad. "... but I – I just thought... at least he'd call to say that we were finished." Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. She daintily lifted a hand to wipe them away.

Kyrie's mouth dropped open when she saw how Sherlock regarded her with a look of open sympathy and sadness on his face. Suddenly he frowned as if his face had done something bad by showing actual empathy and emotion. Kyrie grinned and quietly approached them.

She thought it would be better if the young woman would come around the next day because obviously... the boys were not at their best game at the moment. But, she didn't want to rob their client of at least the opportunity to... vent.

The young woman recomposed herself again. "I went round there, to his flat."

Sherlock clasped his hands together and slowly lowered his head to rest his chin on his hands.

"No trace of him." The young woman swallowed away a lump.

"Mr Holmes," she said, causing Sherlock to smile a bit sheepishly while he struggled to keep his eyes open. He was losing that battle... quickly.

"I honestly think I had dinner," the young woman continued and then lowered her voice. "... with a ghost."

The young women raised her head to look at Sherlock, but he did not respond to her revelation. How could he? The drunk buffoon was dozing off! And so was John! Sherlock grunted a bit and his breathing evened out in the way it did when he was falling asleep.

"Mr Holmes?" the young woman tried, but her only answer was a gentle snore. "With a ghost, Mr Holmes!" she suddenly said loudly.

"Actually um..." Kyrie walked round to face her and gestured at her, giving her a questioning look.

"Tessa," the young woman said with a sniff.

"Tessa," Kyrie repeated. "My husband and his associate had quite a... strenuous evening, I think it would best if you were to return..."

Tessa looked up at her with a crestfallen look on her face. Suddenly Sherlock's hands slipped from beneath his chin, his head drooped down and he nearly tumbled off the sofa. He instantly forced himself back upright. "Boring, boring, boring – no!"

John drew in a noisy breath and his head rolled a bit sideways. He was still fast asleep.

"Fff-fascinating! Kyrie, how dare you tell our client to come back later! She's in distress, we need to take this case. Now!"

Kyrie rolled her eyes but she knew there was no stopping him. Well, so far for a quiet evening, she thought. She could not, in clear conscience, let the boys leave and let them traipse about trying to solve a case while they were pissed as a newt.

"John –John! Wake up!" Sherlock tried to wake John by shaking his leg. John opened his eyes looking quite annoyed about it, slapping Sherlock's hand away.

Sherlock tried to look like asmooth gentleman. "Apologies about my..." He paused and flailed a hand at John... "... you know... thing," he said, slurring the words and looking anything but smooth. He turned his head to send John a stern look. "Rude, rude!" he chastised him.

"Ugh, fine!" Kyrie gave in and walked across the living room to fetch their coats. When she returned, John had fallen asleep again but Sherlock rose himself to his unsteady feet, swaying a bit.

"Don't worry. I'll find him in ten minutes," Sherlock assured her in his cocksure way. Kyrie glared at him and shoved his coat against his chest while Tessa looked absolutely delighted.

"What's your dog's name?" Sherlock asked her while grabbing at his coat.

"Yeah, I'm there if you want it," John mumbled in his sleep. Sherlock reached down and shoved his shoulder. John nearly toppled over sideways, but he instantly veered back, his eyes open and his lips pursed in a slightly puzzled look.

"We're meant to... Yeah, the game's...," Sherlock waved his hand in a vague gesture as he couldn't find the right words. "... something." He then stumbled away to struggle his arms into the sleeves of his coat.

"...on?" Kyrie supplied in a dry tone making Tessa gasp in excitement.

Sherlock staggered back, fumbling with his scarf. "Yeah, that, that!" he said. Kyrie snorted at him and swatted away his hand to properly loop his scarf around his neck.

"John!" Sherlock bellowed. Tessa stood up with a smile. "Okay!" she exclaimed while poor John struggled himself to his feet.

Sherlock looked down at his wife and found her looking up at him with a dreamy look in her eyes. He smiled a bit. No doubt she was thinking back to that evening as well, and, judging the look on his face, so was John.

Though, admittedly, he had indeed been 'pissed as a newt' that night... Kyrie's wording... He still remembered everything that had transpired. Every embarrassing detail, he thought in disgust.

"This next part goes to show that, working a case and making deductions while... slightly inebriated... is not a good idea," he told the guests. He looked down at Kyrie. "I better not find any...pictures... in your scrapbook," he said softly. Kyrie merely flashed him a sweet smile. Had he really ever thought of her as being 'forgettable'? She was anything but! He shook his head and grimaced a bit, remembering the rest of the stag night...

They were... somewhere... in... um... a living room. Sherlock wobbled a bit unsteadily in front of a large clear glass plate on a stand, trying to figure out what the hell he was looking at. He straightened up a bit and looked at his surroundings. The apartment was... big... roomy... Brick walls. High ceiling.

He was making all these brilliant deductions from the safety of a sit thing. Couch? Sofa? He was kneeling on it, his arms braced on its back. Oh right, he was looking at that glass plate. Boring. Moving on.

Thingie... where was he? Oh, leaning against... Why was there a pillar in the middle of the room?

Sherlock struggled to his feet, standing up from the sit thing and turned around. Oh, he was already sitting again. Wasn't he standing just now?

"Oh, it's nice!" Thingie... Wait... No, John, muttered, looking around while bracing his hand against the pillar.

What were they doing here again? Sherlock spread his arms over the back of the sit thing he was sitting on. His eyes fell on the nurse woman and scowl-y looking man. Land... lord?

"Nice place," John mumbled.

The landlord crossed his arms. He wasn't looking very friendly. Didn't he know he was Sherlock Holmes? He was a hero. Well, according to John at least and... um... that nice woman who always made him tea and baked him cookies and tasted like sweet fruit when he kissed her. He liked kissing her. Ah, wife!

He got up and tottered around the living room. Now... where was he again?

"See anything?"

Sherlock turned around in the direction of the voice. "Hmm?"

"Any clues, Mr Holmes?" Nurse woman asked him.

Clues? Was he supposed to look for clues? Better get on with that then.

"Oh, errrrrr..."

He looked around to find something he could deduce. Ah, there... it was something. Designer. Table. And it looked... weird... art?

And near it was another thing. Another sit thing. A shorter sit thing. Wait... yes... Chair! Seat. Leather. He blinked his eyes... sleeeeeep.

Moving on... Oh, look... Another thing... speaker. Looked like a hi-tech... thing. And next to that thing was Billy. What was Billy doing here? Oh, wait... not Billy. Billy was not a goat.

He deduced that this was a … death? Skull... deaded... animal skull... head. With paint on. Lots and lots of paint on.

And on the window sill was... something... What was he looking at? Pipe? Tube? Wotsit? Thingamebob?

He shook his head and continued to take in everything that was in the room, he would have the answer in just a few moments. Wait, what was the question again? He blinked at a... Hmm... an egg. Chair? Sitty thing? It was green, that was for sure.

He was still humming vaguely before he suavely turned around and deduced the nurse woman... Client? Victim? Cardigan! Yes, progress!

Oh look, next to nurse woman was his wife! Aw, she was here too! He deduced her as well. Married... obviously... Coat... Gift... Violet! He stumbled towards her. Something had to be violet. That was very important. More important than anything...

He blinked at her and saw how she arched a delicate brow at him. He blinked a few more times and tried to focus on her eyes. He smiled at her. All was good. He saw violet. Why was that good again? Who was she?

"Hi," he said, flashing her a charming grin... or so he hoped... "I'm Sherlock."

She smiled up at him. "I know," she said in a soft voice. She had a beautiful voice.

He furrowed his brows. This was... odd... "Haven't we done this before?" he asked.

She smiled again, "Yes, we have." Suddenly he felt her soft lips against his. He wasn't entirely sure if he was kissing her or if she was kissing him. It felt nice though.

"Mr Holmes?"

Right, the nurse woman wanted him to clue. He pulled back from... Oh, she was his wife! His wife... His!

He scratched his head. There was something he was supposed to do. Oh... he hadn't done the thing yet! The thing... the looking thing! He grinned at the nurse woman. "I'm just gonna whip this out."

He put his hand into his coat pocket but the looking thing wouldn't come out. He stumbled backwards, twirled around and finally decided to just shrug off the damn coat so he could get the pouch with the looking thing.

See, there it was! He blinked at the pouch, unrolled it and took out his... looking thing... He was pretty sure it had a different name... Magnifier. Yes. He tossed the pouch over his shoulder and held up his magnifier in triumph.

"Mm-hmm?"

He clicked open the magnifier and dropped to his knees on a white rug in a way that had to be pretty suave because he was Sherlock and he was very refined. He braced himself with his left hand and slowly leaned... wobbled... forward onto his right elbow.

"You all right?" he heard the nurse woman say behind him.

"Hmm? Yeah," John replied. "He's clueing."

Sherlock nodded in agreement. Yes. He was.

"What?" the nurse woman asked.

"He's... hmm? He's clueing for looks."

See? John understood! He was a good... hmm... yeah he was good.

"No comment," his wife said, "I said to wait till tomorrow."

Sherlock huffed. Now... to clue for looks. To clue... for... looks... He peered through his magnifier and saw lots of white stuff. It was hard to keep his eyes open. Maybe he needed to have a closer look. He slowly toppled over and... oh soft!

He was drifting. It was nice. So tranquil.

Suddenly he got pulled up roughly by his arm. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he cried out. The landlord released his grip on him and he flailed his arms about to retain his balance.

"This is a famous detective," the nurse woman told the landlord. "It's Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson. And that is Sherlock's wife, Kyrie Holmes."

"Hi," his wife said, waving at the man, flashing him a radiant smile. Wait, why was she smiling at the landlord that way? He was pretty sure she was not supposed to do that!

"You, stop smiling at him like that!" he ordered... he was pretty sure she was his wife, but he kept his eyes on the landlord. He didn't like this landlord! "What d'you think you're doing?" Sherlock whispered indignantly. "Don't … Compromise... The integrity of the..." He paused and raised his hand in a silent request for a moment. He then turned around and regurgitated the copious amounts of beer and whiskey he had consumed throughout the evening.

"... Crime scene!" John cried out, sounding quite proud of himself to come up with the right words. Well, of course this was a crime scene!

Sherlock coughed to clear his throat and straightened up onto his knees again. Ah, much better! He gestured towards John with his looking thing. "Yeah, that," he agreed.

Hmm... he just vomited all over the carpet. Not very suave. Better act casual. He blinked up at the others and raised his looking thing and clicked it closed with a flourish. He then inconspicuously looked away to delicately wipe some... residue... from the corner of his mouth...