"Outta the way, lemme through, I got ter see the Doctor!" Billy rushed into the room and fell to his knees beside the settee, where the constables had moved me before helping to escort Sylvius and Jack downstairs. "Blimey, Doc, I thought you were cooked! You 'urt bad?"

I managed a faint smile, still extremely weak and dizzy, aches and pains in abundance now that I was at leisure to notice them. "Nothing a holiday won't cure, lad," I whispered, trying not to aggravate my abused throat further.

"That'll do, young man," Lestrade said sternly, coming over. "Now, run over to St. Mary's and tell whatever doctor's on duty that he's wanted here on police business. I'll stay with Dr. Watson. Oh, and on your way, turn off that blasted fiddle, will you?"

Billy grinned, vanishing into the bedroom. Although I had already deduced the identity of the phantom violinist, it was still a shock when the wailing notes from Holmes's gramophone were abruptly cut off. For one precious moment, I had dared to hope...

"Remarkable invention, those machines," Lestrade went on, a trifle awkwardly. "It was Billy's idea, you know, to use the one in there as a diversion. I'm, er, sorry if hearing that music upset you..."

I held up a shaky hand and croaked urgently, "Mary?"

"She's fine, so's Mrs. Hudson. They're both waiting for you at home. At least you had the good sense to get them out of the way!" Lestrade shook his head, suddenly looking very old and tired. "Watson... what in God's name were you thinking? If we'd been just a minute later..."

I blinked hard, throat now aching for a very different reason. "Sylvius..." I whispered. "He took Taylor..." Oh heavens, the diamond! I pointed to where the decanter stopper still lay among the coals and rasped, "Pick that up... put it back..."

Lestrade looked at me oddly, but bent down and retrieved the stopper, brushing off the last of the soot, and took it over to the sideboard. "What are you talking about, Watson, none of the stoppers are Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"

I couldn't help but grin as Lestrade snatched the Koh-i-Noor from its perch atop the whiskey decanter, turning to gape at me with the old, dumbfounded expression I hadn't seen in far too long. "...sorry..." Holmes hadn't been the only one with a secret love of the dramatic.

"Like hell!" My colleague groped for the nearest chair and collapsed into it, still staring at the diamond as if it were an unexploded bomb. "Good God... Don't tell me the others knew about this!"

"Just Sylvius... and associates... All in the file..."

"So that scrapbook really was insurance? And you made sure Sylvius couldn't dispose of it, or the diamond..." Lestrade's gaze returned to the mess on the hearthrug, lips twitching. "And... hid a counterfeit in the coal bucket?!"

"Seemed p-poetic..." I had tried my hardest, but the Inspector's face was just too much, and Lestrade soon joined me in my mirth.

"Hiding in plain sight," Lestrade chuckled at last, wiping his eyes. "Oh, I can't wait to see the Count's face when he hears! Gregson, too, come to that... Hold on, though, how did Sylvius steal it without anyone knowing? There hasn't been the least sniff of a rumour about this at the Yard!"

"Taylor's copy... s'good enough..."

"To fool the average civilian, yes, I remember," my colleague finished grimly. "Are you telling me that Her Majesty may have no idea she's even been robbed?"

I nodded gingerly, just as the front door banged open and Billy's eager feet rushed upstairs. "Doctor's comin', Inspector!"

"Good lad." Lestrade had hastily slipped the diamond into his coat pocket, rising from the chair. "Keep an eye on the patient till he gets here, will you? I've a few telegrams to send..."

~0~

"Afternoon, Doctor." Lestrade stood smiling in my bedroom doorway, a folded newspaper under his arm. "Feeling better, I hope?"

"Somewhat..." I whispered. A night's rest at home had done little to refresh me, my head and throat still very tender, and unable to set foot out of bed yet without the room wheeling. "How'd you get past the guards?"

"You can thank Mrs. Hudson for that, she persuaded your good wife to let me up. Not that I blame her for being reluctant!" the Inspector added hastily. "But I thought you'd rest easier hearing how we got on after Billy brought you home."

I gingerly nodded, brightening. "Taylor? Is he...?"

"Safe and sound, don't you worry – well, as sound as might be expected! Although we didn't actually find him at Count Sylvius's estate..." Lestrade drew up a chair and took out his notebook. "I made inquiries with Sylvius's bank this morning, and learned that he'd deposited a large sum in gold quite recently."

"But... if he still had the diamond..."

"Exactly – with the stone still in one piece at Baker Street, where'd he get that kind of money? Certainly not from the likes of Ikey Sanders!"

"Hardly!" I snorted. "Are you saying Sylvius was working for someone else?"

Lestrade nodded. "The Count wouldn't talk, but we got what we needed from his accomplices. I don't know if you and Mr. Holmes ever had any dealings with the Lord Chamberlain in the past?"

I nearly choked on a gasp. "Lord Cantlemere?! You're having me on!"

"See for yourself." Lestrade unfolded the newspaper.

LORD CANTLEMERE'S RETIREMENT

THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN TO RESIGN

The Times regrets to announce that Lord Robert Cantlemere, Lord Chamberlain of Her Majesty's household, will have an audience with the Queen on Saturday, when he will place in her hands his resignation, and that Lord Edward Skelmersdale will then be summoned to undertake the position.

The Times understands that Lord Cantlemere, one of Her Majesty's most devoted retainers, was reluctantly persuaded to take early retirement by Sir Andrew Halliday, Physician to the Queen, the demands of the royal post reportedly having placed too much strain upon even Cantlemere's formidable constitution...

"What, no word about how the ailing Lord Cantlemere... valiantly overpowered a dastardly jewel thief in her Majesty's apartments?" I asked, as sarcastically as a whisper would allow.

"Don't be ridiculous, Doctor, we both know that no thief could get past the palace guards," Lestrade replied innocently. "And that's all anyone needs to know."

"...I suppose." The most senior officer of the royal household... Lord Cantlemere had been perfectly placed to orchestrate such an audacious crime! "What will happen to Cantlemere?"

"Given his spotless public record up until now, he'll likely be placed under house arrest for life. Fortunately for him, depriving the Queen of her crown is only a treason felony, not high treason!"

"What about Sylvius and the others?"

"Closed hearings, probably life sentences." Lestrade met my frown with a grim shrug. "I know, I know, but honestly, Watson, what would you prefer to happen? Taylor's talents be made known to the world? A formerly trusted commodity massively devalued, wreaking economic havoc? Which is exactly what would happen if the press got wind of it!"

"You sound just like Mycroft," I grumbled.

"How do you think we made the arrest? Mycroft invited his lordship to Whitehall, supposedly to finalise arrangements for Her Majesty's December itinerary..."

"And offered him an honourable 'retirement'... in exchange for a confession." Thus saving the rest of his family from public disgrace. "But why did he want the Koh-i-Noor in the first place?"

"I don't know, he wouldn't say. Mycroft seemed to have an inkling, I thought, but..." Lestrade chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, you know what it's like getting more information out of a Holmes brother!"

"...Yes." '...I was quite convinced that the letter from Meiringen was a hoax, and I allowed you to depart on that errand...'

Lestrade's smile faded, looking at me awkwardly. "You know, Watson... I've seen a lot in this job, from the mildly puzzling to the downright grotesque – and yes, a good part of that's been down to you and Mr. Holmes, thank you for that! But..." My colleague hesitated, then went on slowly, heavily, as if forcing the words out. "Last night, when Mary put that file on my desk and told me where you were... well, I've only ever been that scared once before."

I couldn't even whisper an apology, the lump in my throat growing ever bigger, eyes moist and stinging. '...a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you...'

"If that devil had killed you..." Lestrade's hands were actually trembling slightly as he put his notebook away again, the shadows from last night returning to his face. "Honest to God, Watson, I don't know how I could've faced him..."

I shook my head miserably as my colleague broke off, cheeks suddenly scarlet. As if Mycroft would have cared! Or did he mean Billy?

"Well, I'm just glad you are still in one piece, that's all," Lestrade went on hastily. "And Gregson and Bradstreet and all the lads at the Yard, not to mention those blessed boys of yours have been taking turns to try sneaking upstairs..."

What began as a laugh caught in my throat and emerged as a strangled sob, the first of many as I gave up the struggle, Lestrade's arms somehow keeping the myriad pieces of me together in a messy, waterlogged heap, until the shaking finally eased and blessed darkness reclaimed me.