A/N

This chapter was a particular treat to write. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it and, Elbafo, I really hope I was able to do your Sherlock justice!

* S *

Kyrie was standing at the bottom of one of the ramps leading up to the Matter Bridge area. After having been stranded in a completely different reality, Kyrie was very wary of getting within 10 feet of the machine – much to Sherlock's, and pretty much everyone else's, relief.

There were a few things she had to consult Mycroft about, but, from the looks of it, he was busy upstairs in his office overseeing the Bridge Room.

St John was sitting on the spread on the floor, close by, entertaining himself with his new treasure, the 'Atlas of Rare Birds'.

"Hello!" a familiar voice called out to her. Kyrie looked up and saw Molly walking up to her, a slightly annoyed look on her face. Jonathan, looking like his goofy old self, walked right next to her, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his moss green duffle coat.

"I'm telling you Molly, it all started to become clear when I noticed the shoes in the picture..." he said, morosely lisping out of the corner of his mouth. "Oh, hi Kyrie..."

Molly gave her a pleading look and Kyrie just knew that Jonathan had been trying to get her to understand the intricate details of a case.

"Molly, Jonathan… what brings you here?"

"There's something Molly wanted to ask you and I- I wanted to run something by Sherlock… but he looks busy… And on the way here I was telling Molly about a case."

"Don't even think about it, Jonathan!" Molly warned him, but Jonathan grinned and continued anyway. He'd always found an eager audience in Kyrie.

"Small pub where men had literally been scared to death. Was closed down in the end because people thought it was cursed."

Oh, Kyrie loved this… Jonathan was almost as smart as Sherlock and she loved the way his mind worked! "Really? That, of course, was not the case."

Jonathan snorted derisively. "Of course not."

Kyrie chuckled when Molly groaned softly. It seemed Molly had finally learned the draw-backs of being in a relationship with someone like Sherlock because Jonathan and Sherlock absolutely had a few traits in common.

"Oh, go on, give it go then," she said, encouraging Jonathan and earning a mock-glare from Molly. "You said something about shoes…"

"Yes, there were pictures of the male victims and the crime scenes. In one of them I spotted a pair of shoes, over by the chest of drawers. That's when it clicked..."

The downside of Jonathan? He often needed time to get into the pace of the story.

"Yes?"

"The last victim had just come out the bath and they were all going to bed. So, it's a fair bet that when they died, none of them were wearing..."

"Shoes?" Kyrie offered.

"Yes. Considering the stories… and the victims not wearing shoes… It all became evidently clear. It was very clever. It wouldn't work every time, but..."

"Jonathan, please… get to the point?" Molly pleaded with him.

For a brief moment Kyrie was distracted by a strange look that flitted across St John's features. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd seen… it'd been too brief. He seemed all right though and Jonathan was claiming her attention again.

"It was the pub owner! See? He lured people up there to bump them off. And no one tumbled it, because nothing even suggested a crime had been committed. They swallowed that tosh about dying of fright."

"Wait… the pub owner lured his victims up? How? And why?" Kyrie asked him.

"Well, the room upstairs was basically a knocking shop. Discreet service with professional gentlemen of the day… Rich wives coughed up a lot of money to have their husbands conveniently disposed of."

Kyrie and Molly stared at each other, both mirroring the same aghast look on their face. "Are you making things up now, Jonathan?" Kyrie asked.

"Absolutely not! For all appearances, it really looked like the victims died of fright. None of them were wearing shoes and three of them were actually seen convulsing with horror as they looked out the window. Doesn't that point you in a definite direction?"

"Yes..." St John said, looking up from his book.

Jonathan turned round, his eyes growing a bit larger. "I am so sorry, Kyrie! I had no idea he was within earshot, I swear!"

"Oh, don't sweat it," Kyrie said, her voice edging on desolate. "He's Sherlock's son. No matter how I try to keep him away from this stuff, St John probably already knows what flies show up near a corpse first."

"Blowfly," St John replied instantly.

Jonathan smiled. "Smart kid. Bit creepy, but astute."

Kyrie groaned.

"Anyway, when you look at all the things it couldn't have been… What is it Sherlock always says, Kyrie?"

"Get your kit off and give us a kiss?" Kyrie replied dryly.

"Exactly. Which leaves us with only one possibility..."

Both Molly and Kyrie dissolved with laughter. Only then Jonathan realised…

"Wait… No! That's not what I–" Jonathan abruptly stopped talking and gazed up, an almost shocked look on his face, as if he was seeing a ghost. Molly followed his gaze and her mouth dropped open, forming an 'Oh'.

A prickling sensation travelled over her skin when Kyrie slowly turned around and looked upwards. There… his arms casually leaning on the railing that separated the two ramps… wearing the same coat, but different scarf… was Sherlock. Just not her Sherlock.

It took her mind a few seconds to catch up to speed and put two and two together.

One… this was not her Sherlock. Two… this was not the other-Sherlock she'd been saddled up with either… Meaning… "Oh, so he brought you with him? Not what I was expecting… You must be… Rose's Sherlock then. Right?"

He didn't reply, just took her in with one of those unfathomable looks. Guarded. By now her Sherlock was an open book to her. This Sherlock, Kyrie was absolutely sure, was only readable by a woman named Rose.

"Um, yeah, Kyrie… We'll, eh, come back at a later time, yeah? When we're not interrupting something that shouldn't even be possible…" Jonathan lisped awkwardly. Molly gave him a loving swat on the arm.

"Bye Kyrie..." Molly nervously glanced at Sherlock. "Sherlock..." she squeaked and then hurried off, dragging Jonathan along with her.

Kyrie slowly blew out a shuddering breath. Thank heavens she'd taken a quick shower and was now clad again in professional attire… Slim fitting indigo trousers, matching tailored indigo jacket and an off-white boat neck satin blouse. She'd have died of mortification if she'd have faced that Sherlock with sweaty hair plastered to her face and her sweat-stained running gear.

One more fortifying breath and Kyrie slowly ascended the ramp to join other-other Sherlock near the railing. As this was the only Sherlock that her Sherlock spoke of without a trace of his usual disdain, Kyrie was curious while at the same time filled with some trepidation.

When she halted just a few steps away from him, her breath caught in her throat. Oh my! He was much more like her Sherlock than the other Sherlock had been. Bit younger from the looks of it, hair slightly longer, bit paler… but so… so… so… similar! Not just the physical aspects though… it was something more intangible. That's when Kyrie realised… this Sherlock, like her husband, looked much more well-rounded and mature than the other one.

"Sorry, I'm staring," Kyrie blurted out. "It's just, you look so much more like… my husband… than the other one did. Also I wasn't expecting Sherlock to bring you –"

A sudden shout made Kyrie look up and she saw, through the large window, her brother-in-law and her husband engrossed in an other shouting match. Judging from the throbbing vein in Mycroft's neck, that looked about ready to pop, Sherlock was pushing all of his buttons.

"Ah..." Kyrie simply said. "Mycroft wasn't expecting it either."

"Obviously," Sherlock averred. Huh… the same dry tone her Sherlock liked to use.

"So, why are you here, exactly?" Kyrie wondered out loud.

"He doesn't believe Daddy."

Both Sherlock and Kyrie turned their heads and they found St John sitting on the ramp, leaning against a metal bar of the railing, as he was carefully studying the two people above him.

When Kyrie looked back at Sherlock, she raised a brow at him. "Is that true? Why on earth wouldn't you? You can hardly deny what you can plainly see with your own eyes.

Sherlock blanched at her words but he recovered quickly. "You wouldn't believe how easy it is these days to fashion your appearance to that of another… right down to the last mole. With careful study of ones quirks, expressions, mannerisms, it's quite possible to take over someone's life, without them even knowing it."

Though Sherlock was talking to her… he was staring at St John. St John stared right back at him and didn't look to be perturbed at all. If anything, her son was giving this Sherlock as scrutinizing a look as he was being subjected to. No doubt he was cataloguing every line and crease in this man's face, noticing each and every nuance to it that was somehow different or the same.

Kyrie blinked at the genius-detective. "Right… so you think my husband is an impostor, someone who went through a world or pain and trouble to change his appearance to match yours. And what… he managed to steal a sample of your semen as well to produce him?" She nodded at her son who instantly treated Sherlock to a toothy grin.

The look on Sherlock's face was enough to hide a delicate chuckle. As St John was almost an exact copy of Sherlock when he was that age, except for the colour of his eyes and the slight slant to them, his appearance had to be a shock to this Sherlock.

"And I guess we also have other people posing as Molly and Jonathan?"

"I just…" Sherlock tore his gaze away from her son to look back at her, but he looked awfully distracted. "who's Jonathan? Not a new boyfriend of Molly's? You know, you should get him checked out. She really doesn't have a good track record. Anyway, I had to make sure. If there was even the smallest possibility, however remote…" He didn't finish his sentence as his gaze drifted back to St John.

"Oh, you mean the fact that she briefly dated your archenemy and after that a wannabe lookalike? I know how that could look but Jonathan's really..." she stopped talking when she suddenly understood. If there was even the smallest possibility, however remote, he said. This Sherlock had a family as well… a wife, a little girl…

"It's for her, isn't it?" Kyrie asked softly. "I understand. I'm afraid there's very little Sherlock… or Mycroft… wouldn't do to keep me and our family safe. A chilling thought sometimes. And the clods just left you standing here… And they claim to be brilliant!" Kyrie sighed. A brief smile tugging at the corners of his mouth didn't entirely go unnoticed. In fact, his entire posture relaxed and lost that spine-cracking rigidity of just a moment before. A bit of much needed colour even flushed back to his cheeks.

"What do you say we ditch this place and go somewhere else? Is there anything in particular you'd like to see? Just a word of warning though. Savant is my designated driver today and he knows a hundred different ways to kill someone with a pen… Just in case you turn out to be an impostor..." Kyrie quipped.

Hmm… they'd have to move fast though. Mycroft would not like Sherlock leaving the premise and Sherlock would not like her leaving without him. Problem was… if anyone would spot the two Sherlocks together… No, she didn't even want to contemplate the mayhem!

To get this Sherlock out, so he could see a whole new world with his own eyes, they would have to get moving…

The decision made, Kyrie held out her hand for St John. He instantly scrambled to his feet and placed his hand in hers. She then turned on her heels and motioned for Sherlock to follow them.

"Keep moving and try not to look around as if all this is new for you. No one will be expecting me to take an alternate version of Sherlock out of this building. You are him so act like him!"

The moment they stepped out, a black car nearby came roaring to life and drove up to them. The chauffeur, Savant, got out and he politely greeted them as he opened the back door.

"Hello Mr Holmes, Mrs Holmes, Junior. Done for today? Can I drive you back home?"

"Not right now… Savant. I promised… St John… a visit to Big Ben."

Kyrie nearly keeled over in shock. Act like him, she said. She'd not expected him to do that so effortlessly! If Savant had noticed anything off about the two pauses, he didn't show it.

"Daddy's taking me to see Big Ben!" St John stated proudly before he scrambled into the car. Sherlock slid in next to him, leaving Kyrie standing there with an awkward smile. Did her son really have to be able to lie so smoothly?

Then Savant looked her right in the eyes, his blue eyes twinkling and a large dimple appeared in his left cheek. "Right…" he said.

"Oh, just take us there and… be quiet about this!" Kyrie hurried inside. Savant flashed her a grin and touched his cap with his knuckles before he closed the door behind her.

Once inside Kyrie raised a soundproof window that separated them from Savant. Bit pointless really since Savant already knew… but, he didn't have to hear everything.

Sherlock raised a brow at her. "You do realise Big Brother is still listening in?"

"Not at the moment, but yes, I'm quite sure he'll be listening to the recording in due time. They both will…"

"Right."

It was slightly awkward sitting with another-Sherlock in the back of the town car, with St John propped in between them. Kyrie cast a curious glance at him. He was looking out of the car window and seemed pretty easygoing right now. Quite a big difference from the rigid, almost angry man she'd met earlier. Did that mean he'd come around? If so… why was seeing Big Ben so important to him? She decided to ask him.

"So, the Elizabeth Tower… Any reason in particular why you want to go and see Big Ben?"

Sherlock cast a surreptitious glance at the raised window.

"Don't worry. Savant can not listen in… It's a… something my Sherlock was quite adamant about. He won't hear whatever we're talking about. Though eventually Sherlock and Mycroft will…"

The intense look in his eyes and the humorous smile on his lips was oddly disconcerting. As if he knew exactly what the reason for that measure had been. If that wasn't enough, now she had St John's undivided attention too. It felt a lot like getting caught in a very compromising situation in the back of the car seat.

Just when the silence got close to unbearable, Sherlock started to explain. "A tradition of sorts… taking Rose up the Elizabeth Tower and watch the New Year's Eve fireworks and celebrate her birthday. I take it you know about–"

"I know about Rose, yes. We, Sherlock and I, we don't have secrets. Not big ones anyway. I believe he encountered her at just the right moment. He was having a hard time coping with some of the things he'd seen. She was a moment of light for him, of hope and… I hope knowing that is of some comfort to you. I mean, it can't be easy knowing that other people know."

Sherlock hummed non-committally.

"Are you okay?" she asked when he again shrouded himself in silence.

Her soft question seemed to snap him back to attention. "Yes. Sorry. Got a bit caught up in a particular train of thought. Well, Mycroft – you know him as well of course – he found out that Rose was sad about Grace missing out, you know about her as well I take it… big noise, tiny ears, lots of stairs…

"The meddling busybody got it into his head to silence Big Ben for four years, even have a lift installed. All under the pretence of restoration. The scaffolding… not something you can quickly get rid off just to trick someone."

When Kyrie didn't respond, Sherlock turned his head to look at her, his brow furrowed. And that was it… She tried, desperately, to keep a dignified composure when Sherlock explained his reason for seeing Big Ben and now she lost. "I'm sorry… I'm not laughing at you, I swear!"

The baffled look on his face, almost exactly mirrored on her son's face, dissolved her in a fit of giggles. "It's just… such a Mycroft thing to do! He's nothing if not…"

"A meddling idiot?" Sherlock offered.

"I was going to say overly dramatic, but yes, that works just as well."

They both smiled until suddenly Sherlock motioned her in a plea to stop the car. Kyrie quickly activated the intercom and ordered Savant to pull over. She didn't have to look out of the window to know what he was seeing. Big Ben in all of its glory. No scaffolding in sight. A sigh shuddered through his lips and he leaned back into the seat.

"So, our secret really is safe and… Rose… she hasn't lost it."

"I'm not so sure, she did marry you and I know what that's like. It's enough to really lose it at times."

A boyish chuckle made them both look at St John, who seemed to find that statement infinitely funny.

"You got me there," Sherlock said, his lips twitching into a smile that was, unfortunately, short-lived. "I'm-" he gulped, "I was appalling. To her. You'd think I'd be wiser by now. For some reason, I keep making the same mistakes. How about…?"

Kyrie worried her lip as she looked at her son, who was again giving the conversation his undivided attention. "St John, can you do what Daddy taught you? Visit your Mind Place?"

St John didn't answer, he simply nodded and closed his eyes.

"He already hears and stores way more information than I'd like." Kyrie offered Sherlock a cautious smile. "Sherlock is his big role-model, his hero. I don't think he has to hear just yet that even his hero has his fallacies and insecurities."

A warm smile tugged at Sherlock's lips and his gaze briefly drifted to the small boy sitting between them. The way St John's jaw slacked slightly, was a tell-tale sign he was now completely somewhere else… happily watching birds or something, Kyrie hoped.

"You… talk before you think and what you say is not always very nice. You may not mean the words in a slighting way but they sometimes come across as such. You are also way too convinced of your own logic and mental faculty, leaving very little room for the opinions of others. When you are convinced you are right, no one can persuade you to think otherwise… Not even those who love you the most."

Sherlock blinked at her words, his eyes growing just a bit rounder. "I believe that's an apt observation."

"So, basically, Rose told you about the existence of another reality and you dismissed her right off the bat."

Kyrie bit back a smile when she could see his Adam's apple nervously move up and down. He cast her a sideways glance and folded in his upper lip. Oh boy…

"I may have lashed out a bit in anger… I couldn't get past the carelessness of her actions… for swallowing that complete tosh of alternate universes and telling our secret to some… imposter. That probably also wasn't a bit not good."

"Just a bit. I'm sure it's nothing a heartfelt apology can't fix."

The look he gave her made her giggle… "I'm pretty rubbish at apologies. You should know."

"I also happen to know you have a wicked charm that can melt her anger away in seconds, if you put in a bit of effort."

Sherlock inclined his head with a small little smile.

Kyrie briefly rapped on the window with her knuckles, indicating she wanted to return. She really had to pee!

"Look… If you are anything like my Sherlock, you probably blame yourself for the way you met her. Trust me," she said when Sherlock averted his eyes. "I know what I'm talking about. My Sherlock still blames himself for… something that almost happened to me. He's not proud of it, hates it even. So, I keep telling him… For all the nasty things in the past, if they weren't there, we never would have met. And you would not have met her."

Sherlock met her gaze and she could see he was struggling to keep his emotions under control. Kyrie quickly pressed on, not wanting to prolong this conversation that had to be uncomfortable for him.

"And, if Rose is anything like me, then know she'll have no regrets. Not one moment. At least, not one moment of regret for… choosing to be with you."

"Did you mean the nasty man, Mummy?"

Kyrie smiled at her son and carded her fingers through his curls. "You were still supposed to be in your Mind Place!"

"I just returned."

"In that case, yes, my sweet. I did mean the nasty man. But, he's gone and he can never hurt us again. You know that right?"

The look St John gave her, told her he had a deeper understanding of the situation than 'the nasty man' suggested. There was an anger that briefly flashed in his eyes, making them sparkle, when he said. "Good."

Kyrie and Sherlock exchanged a quiet look. She didn't know if it helped, but she liked to think that he would find some comfort in hearing this from the perspective of someone else who loved him, another version of him, deeply.

"Wicked charm?" Sherlock raised a brow at her and she smiled back at him.

"Very wicked."

"That would explain a few things," Sherlock mused.

Curiosity made Kyrie look back at him. "Such as?"

"How we already have a second on the way and you… a third? So soon?"

Kyrie blanched at his words and for a moment she froze in her seat. Wait… what?

"Daddy wanted her to find out for herself." St John sounded a bit accusatory and looked round to glare at Sherlock.

"You knew?" Kyrie asked weakly. "How?"

"Daddy told me. And said to not talk about it."

Sherlock worried his lip, as it seemed to dawn on him he had just revealed something that was not yet meant to be revealed. "Oops. I do rest my case… Terrible at apologies…" he murmured.

"How?" Kyrie asked again, this time directing her question at the other adult in the car.

"You act perky but the shadows under your eyes show you're fatigued. You're posture right now is a bit uptight as if you really need to go… relieve yourself. Even though you already went a few times earlier… I noticed. And… bit of heartburn, if I'm not mistaken."

"I hope Rose smacks you around the head when you get back," Kyrie said prickly.

This made him chuckle. He gave her a humoured grin and said, "No, you don't. Thank you, by the way… this is perfect. I can make her laugh about this and she'll be less angry."

"Glad to be of service."

"It's okay. She's not really mad. Just annoyed. She'll feel better soon." St John told Sherlock reassuringly.

Kyrie swallowed back an angry comment. This, of course, made Sherlock smile even wider.

"I like the boy. He's alright."

She huffed out a sigh. There really was no point in being angry. This Sherlock was just… being Sherlock. And both her son and her husband had tried their best this time to not give her the big spoiler.

"Sorry," she said. "It's not your fault. You're just as much a blabbermouth as he is. Can't be helped. I just… I just wish I'd be able to find out for myself for once. I know surprising him with it is out of the question."

Sherlock gave her a sly grin. "Keep hope, there's always the next one. Why stop after three, after all?"