Hello, everybody. I'm back with another chapter because as I recall, our happy couple was sitting in a beautiful restaurant in France and seeing as how they've been there for almost two weeks, I think we should get the story moving, don't you agree?

Soon, I had indulged myself enough that I didn't think I could eat for the rest of my life. I leaned very unladylike against the back of my chair and wished that I hadn't eaten so much fudge for dessert. But how could I resist? I was secretly obsessed with chocolate, and when my appetite for the stuff was stimulated, I felt the need to go savage and would have devoured the whole plate bit by bit, had my dear husband not decided to take some for himself as well.

If only I had known how much I would have regretted eating so much. The saying 'Your eyes are bigger than your stomach' was certainly true in this case. Before, I'd eaten a decent amount of meat and bread and drank a healthy amount of red wine which made my nausea a hundred times worse.

"Well, I hate to say it, but-" I put a hand up before Sherlock could finish his sentence.

"If you say 'I told you so', I will-"

"You will what? walk right out this door and I'll never see you again? I don't see how you could possibly do that when you can barely move and you can't find your way through Paris on your own," he said smugly.

"You have no idea how much I want slap your perfectly handsome symmetrical face right now."

"Can you reach over the table to do that?"

"Then I'll do it when we get home." I shot back.

"So you're in that sort of mood, are you?"

I opened my eyes again and saw the grin etched all over his face. "Whatever you're thinking, get it out of your mind right now, or else-"

"Darling," he said, unfazed by my tone. put away the empty threats and just admit that I was right about the fudge."

"It was your idea," I mumbled under my breath and pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

"If I remember correctly, it was actually you who begged me to get you an entire plate."

"Fine, you win." I frowned, sticking out my bottom lip childishly.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" He put a hand to his ear, as if he didn't hear what I said.

"I said you win. There, are you happy now?" I groaned.

"Yes, I am, actually." After a second, he added, "We can wait right here, the restaurant won't be closing for a little while. How about the next time we come here, we skip dinner and go straight to dessert?"

"Doesn't sound so bad to me," I nodded and closed my eyes again, just letting everything settle.

"Will there be anything else?" the waiter asked, paying more attention to me. It had sort of been like that the whole night, with him dropping subtle glances at me even while he was serving other customers. I thought he was just being friendly at first, until I realized how often he did it. I glanced over for any sign that Sherlock was jealous, but found none. I was thinking I was the only one who even picked up on it, or maybe he just didn't want to make me uncomfortable.

"No, I think we'll just take the bill," he replied in a perfect and convincing French accent.

"Are you sure I can't get something for your lovely friend here if she wishes."

"Thank you, but my wife and I've had quite enough food for one night." It was clear just how he emphasized the word 'wife' that he was trying to keep calm.

"The meal was the best I've had in years," I smiled kindly, but not in a flirtatious way.

"Very well then." The waiter handed us the bill and left us alone again.

"Does he actually think you're French?" I asked as soon as he was gone, trying not to laugh.

"I hope so. I doubt he even knew who I was anyhow." He adjusted the glasses on his face and smoothed a stubborn piece of hair down flat against his head.

"And if he did, maybe he just didn't think anything of it." I took a chance and stood up. At least my stomach wasn't churning like it was before.

"Do you still want me to carry you out the door?" he asked me, looking me over, his playful side immediately replaced by concern. "You're looking a little pale."

"I think that would be even worse than walking," I said. "It actually doesn't feel too bad right now, maybe walking will help."

The minute we stepped outside again, the temperature dropped below freezing, meaning it would probably snow within the next hour or two, or maybe it would just stay cloudy and gloomy. Either way, we wouldn't let the gray clouds put a damper on our trip. Especially since this was probably the one and only chance we would be able to have some time to ourselves.

We waited for a carriage to arrive to take us back to the hotel since neither of us really wanted to walk back home in the cold. I rubbed my hands together in an attempt to warm them up.

"You forgot your gloves inside, didn't you?" he smiled down at me, a twinkle in his eyes. "Or perhaps you left them there on purpose. That handsome young waiter was giving you the eye, and so you decided to give him the satisfaction. You might not think I picked up on the subtle hints of flirting, but I did, I just didn't want to cause a scene."

"It's only flirting if the other party responds to it in equal passion." I narrowed my eyes. "For one thing, I don't think he speaks a lick of English, two, he must not have known that I am happily married."

"Happily?" he teased, bringing me closer so that our faces were inches apart. "Are you sure?"

"Quite happily," I confirmed, cupping his face and brushing my nose against his. "Though I will admittedly be much happier once we're somewhere warmer and I can actually feel my fingers."

From inside the church, children were singing Christmas songs. Their voices carried through the air, a bit of warmth against the bitter cold. I turned around, wanting to follow the joyful sound, just as the carriage arrived and I slumped, defeated.

"Don't be disappointed, darling, chances are they'll be here again tomorrow." We stepped off the sidewalk and onto the road. The horses were wearing warm blankets. I stroked their noses and then got in.

"This is their last ride for tonight, don't want them to catch a chill," the driver said in heavily accented English. He seemed to really care about his charges, unlike some of the drivers back in England.

"Are you ready?" he asked as he stood behind me with the scissors. Yes, I was going with this ridiculous idea and I was not going back on it. My hair was washed and ready to go. There was a bit of a debate on the ride back. I wanted to get the same haircut that he had, while he, of course, wanted me to keep my hair the way it was.

"I was born ready," I said with determination, drying a bit of water with the towel wrapped around my shoulders. "You don't know what it's like to live with hair like mine. The tangles and the hours it takes to maintain it, when with shorter hair it would take half of that time, maybe even a quarter."

"You're really set on this, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said, the adrenaline rush was taking over.

"No sense of trying to change your mind?"

"Nope, not a chance." I grinned triumphantly. "Think about it: we want to get somewhere in a hurry and I wake up with bedhead, therefore I have to stand in front of the mirror and brush out every piece from top to bottom so that it's soft and tangle-free. But one snip could change it all."

"What if we just make it down to your upper back?" he suggested.

"That would work, I suppose," I said with a final nod. "As long as I don't have to wear those pins, then I'm good."

"Remember that you have tea with Irene tomorrow morning. You only have to tolerate them for one day."

"Fine," I huffed and sat back, feeling and hearing the scissors snipping through my hair. I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw the locks falling to the ground in clumps. "Mother is going to be surprised."

"That's one way to put it," he chuckled. "But just in case she gets furious, it was your idea."

"Alright, I will protect you from the brunt of my mother's wrath," I smiled, closing my eyes as the procedure continued. "Though I feel as if she would take it worse if I got it cut really short like I originally planned."

"That was the other reason I suggested it."

It was five minutes later and we were about halfway done.

"You know, you don't have to do it piece by piece, you can do it in bigger parts."

"I don't want to make a mistake on it, have one side shorter than the other, or worse, make it too short."

"I guess not," I replied.

"Good, now hush and let me do my work."

It didn't take too much longer, with a little more cutting, brushing, and a short nap on my part. When I looked into the mirror, I saw how clean cut my hair was, not too short, or too long, it was just right, and each piece was exactly the same size. I stood up in order to see the length of it.

"It's perfect," I said, reaching up to touch it without ruining the sleek look. "and it feels really soft."

"Like I said, I picked up a few tricks from Watson, so I know a thing or two."

"Your turn," I said, pointing to the chair and picking up the comb but stumbling a bit as I did so.

"I think you should go to sleep," he walked over to me instead and picked me up into his arms.

"It's not even bedtime yet," I whined.

"It's nearly midnight, love." Despite my protesting, I took comfort in his warmth and I snuggled in. "Trust me, you'll feel much better in the morning."

I felt myself being lowered down onto the bed and the sheets being pulled over me. I smiled, feeling sleepy. I started to relax more. Maybe it was the wine that was influencing my need for sleep, since I was not used to drinking that much of anything that strong.

"Thank you, for a wonderful evening," I whispered, laying my head against his chest. "You do know how to spoil a girl."

"You're not just any girl," Sherlock whispered back, "You're Mrs. Holmes."

Tea with Irene was something I was both anticipating and dreading. Imagine having tea with your husband's or wife's past lover and then expecting to get along with them. I didn't see the problem. Besides, there was no reason to be jealous whatsoever, and it didn't seem that Irene was too keen on trying to win Sherlock back, at least not anytime soon. It took much less time to do my hair thanks to the trim, and so I was ready an hour early.

"My grandmother always used to say that it's better to get there fifteen minutes early, than to get there fifteen minutes late."

"You really don't have to go if you don't want to," he said for the tenth time since I woke up. "Just tell her you're unwell because you ate too much last night at dinner, surely she'll understand."

"I'll be fine," I reassured him. "but if you think it would be safer for you to come with me, then I can certainly arrange it."

"It's not that, I just don't want her to say anything that would change your mind about being with me."

"If she does, I'll just use the method that my grandfather taught me to use when I don't agree with something, but don't want to say so: You just nod your head and pretend that you're listening, but really you don't care at all."

"Hmm, perhaps I should try that out myself the next time I speak with Mykie."

I laughed and kissed his cheek. "I have to get going. I shouldn't be too long."

"I'll be right here." I could see his smile as I shut the door behind me and stepped back out into the winter chill.

Irene was there to greet me when I arrived. As usual, she looked absolutely flawless, that was one thing I could not compete with. No wonder he was so taken by her.

"There you are, I was starting to think you cancelled on me," she said, throwing her arms around me. "or that your husband tried to convince you into not coming."

"He tried, believe me," I said humorously. "but I told him that I would be perfectly fine. After all, what's the harm in having tea with a past lover?"

"None at all. Speaking of, how is married life treating you? I remember the last time we spoke, at one of your mother's gatherings, that you didn't want to be married at all."

"Plans change," I shrugged. "I just hadn't met the right person yet, and trust me, he's a much better man than that piece of filth." Irene raised an eyebrow, probably not expecting me to say such a foul thing.

"You deserve each other, really." Her voice sounded distant, almost sad, but her smile never faltered. "Especially after all you've both gone through to get back to one another."

"He was torn apart when he thought you were gone," I said, hoping to ease her a little. She could have been trying to reel me in, but I knew true heartbreak when I saw it, and I felt it was my responsibility to make it all better. "You should have seen him on the boat the first time we came here; the sadness in his eyes. He told me about you, how he should have been there to save you."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you about something like that?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I understand that our paths have crossed, but never aligned, and now it's too late," she said. "I just wanted to let him know that I was alive and that I was doing alright and that he's won."

Won what? I wondered.

"We spent years doing this whole routine; I would run, he would chase me, I would escape and it would all start over again. A harmless game of cat and mouse. Until it became too much for us to handle, when we got tangled up with the wrong sort, and now..."

"Irene. It wasn't your fault that you or Sherlock died."

"I had a choice, Charlotte. He gave me a chance to leave Moriarty's employment, to turn away from crime for good, but I discarded it." A tear slipped down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. "Anyway, we didn't come here to weep, did we? Let's find somewhere nice to sit."

"If it makes you feel any better, Sherlock does have an older brother."

She laughed, unable to help herself and I knew that I did something good. "I'll keep that in mind."

We stuck to the other topics that most women would normally discuss, like hobbies and such. It turns out she got her singing talents from her mother, and though she didn't have a twin sister like I did, she'd always wanted a little brother.

"My father was in the army, but he would always write to Mother and I, telling us how much he loved us and that he couldn't wait to see us again."

"And did he come back?" I ventured.

Her silence indicated the answer.

"I'm sorry," I said, putting my hand on top of hers. "You must have been very close."

She shook her head. "To tell you the truth, we didn't really have that close of a bond. The only kind of contact I had with him was though pieces of paper with fading ink. I don't have many memories of the two of us together, since he was deployed when I was a little girl, too young to remember, I suppose."

"My uncle and grandfather served in the Afghan war, just like Doctor Watson. I missed them everyday, but I am lucky that they managed to come home at all."

"Yes, but even if they came home, part of them was left behind, a part of them which should never have been taken in the first place."

"That's true." I agreed.

"Charlotte?" A new voice said beside me.

"What are you-?" I asked, too shocked to even speak.

"I was bored staying home all by myself with nothing but my violin to keep me company," he replied, sitting in the previously unoccupied chair beside me, then glanced at Irene. "What are you two talking about? You're not busy fighting over me, are you?"

"Don't be silly," said Irene. "It's not all about you, you know."

"Oh, so you're best friends now?" he laughed, glancing between the two of us.

"Why wouldn't we be? We should have done this a long time ago."

"I couldn't agree more, Miss Adler," I smiled at her.

"I'm confused."

"I'll explain it all later, love," I said, and when our tea and biscuits arrived, I adjusted my position so that I was sitting up straighter.

"Remember to take it easy this time," he said, smirking. "She overdid it with the fudge last night and couldn't move at all."

"Hey, you're not supposed to tell new acquaintances my faults on the first day," I playfully scolded.

I wanted to give the two of them time to catch up, and since I trusted wholeheartedly that Irene wouldn't take this as a chance to steal him away from me, I decided to leave them for a few minutes and trust that they would still be there by the time I was done.

Looking in the mirror, I could see how alike Irene and I looked. In another life, had fate worked out differently, we could have been sisters. I thought about how being related to a criminal would play out for me, what she had gone through as a child; losing both parents at such a young age must have been hard on her, and when people are scared or sad, they often make bad choices. But now, here she was, turning her own life around, and becoming her own person, living by her own rules, and laughing? Maybe what Irene really needed wasn't only a second chance, but someone she could depend on, someone she could tell her problems to and help her make the right choices, and if Sherlock and I were the only two people that Irene could trust, then so be it.

"It's been a while since I heard you laugh," he was saying when I returned back to the table, "I've missed it."

"It feels good to finally let my guard down, not worry whether you're going to live another day or not."

"You could always come back with us," he said, desperately wanting to help her.

"And get in the way of a happy relationship? Never. Three's a crowd, you know."

"That's not what I meant. I was only suggesting that-"

"You're blushing!" I pointed out, laughing along. "It's adorable."

"It's even more adorable when I manage to make you blush," he returned, draping his arm over the back of my chair so that his fingers lightly brushed my shoulder.

"You wish you had that power over me," I said challengingly. "What makes you think that I'm not just playing along?"

"I know you better than anyone, including yourself, Charlotte, and I know when you're feelings for me are genuine, and when you're only pretending to be angry at me."

"You're in that sort of mood, are you?" I repeated back the playful words he'd said to me at the restaurant last night.

"Maybe I am, or maybe I'm just playing with you, either way, it's better that we don't discuss this here when we have company."

"Oh, I don't mind at all, you are just too adorable," Irene gushed and I rolled my eyes.

The rest of the meeting was just as pleasant, with me resisting the urge to eat more than two biscuits, even though they were just as delicious as everything else in this café. I didn't know what it was about French food that made it so tempting, but I knew that I wouldn't get anything like this anywhere else.

Irene asked me about how Sherlock and I met, and I told her the whole story from beginning to end, not leaving out a single detail, and as luck would have it, she'd already met Simza and managed to get on her good side, not an easy feat, mind you. I suppose I was just lucky that the two of us managed to have an instant connection.

"Naturally, she didn't trust me at first, but I kind of expected that since she seemed to know who I was and what I'd done, but once we spent a few days together at the Gypsy camp, then she gradually started to warm up to me and we're on good terms."

"She's a tough puzzle," he said, "and I don't blame her for being untrusting, she's lost many friends over the years because of Moriarty and his goons, but once she starts to trust you and doesn't perceive you as a threat to her or the others, then you won't find a better friend. Besides John Watson, of course."

"I do hope she arrived home alright," I said.

"I'm sure she did," said Irene, taking a sip of her tea and then setting it back down again. "Though the last we spoke, she told me she might think of starting over in London. Nothing has been decided yet, however."

"It would be nice to have her close by," I agreed, trying not to let on how excited I was about the possibility. "But on the other hand, her entire life has been spent at the camp, they're all very close-knit, I am not sure if she's really willing to part with them for good. I suppose we will just have to wait and see."

"Well, we should get going, we leave for Berlin first thing tonight." I stood up, glad that this time around, I was actually able to move.

"You will keep in touch won't you?" Irene said, standing up.

"Of course I will," I replied, taking her hand. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

We all said our goodbyes, and I hoped that whatever happened next for Irene, it would all turn out better.