The news rocked the city.

Anna only bought the papers for an excuse to hide her face when she watched those reading the same information in tea shops and on the busses. With the weather showing the slightest hint of warming it was all anyone could talk about when they desperately wanted to speak on other things. When all anyone wanted to talk about was either the expose Vera penned, the news of her death, the implications of her involvement in an international drug trade that sent multiple governments banging at one another's doors, or the reality that the Superintendent of the Metropolitan Police had a wife who tried to destroy evidence.

No one would believe it if it was not front-page news. And even then they debated and argued about it. It was all Anna could do not to people watch anywhere she went as the city tried to deal with the biggest news since the war ended. To watch as the city went into quiet riot by leaving piles of papers from Carlisle's businesses to gather soot and rubbish on the street corners.

Given a few days, the world tilted back to normal and Anna found herself no longer confronting the curious stares of strangers in the street outside her offices. They would stand there, or stop when they realized where they were, as though they wanted to beg her for any information she could provide behind the lines printed onto the newspapers they still clutched in their gloved fingers. None ever did and Anna tried to smile at the potential visitors but once she did the action broke them from the moment and everyone hurried away.

On one of these mornings, avoiding an abandoned pile of papers bearing the standards of Carlisle's holdings, Anna entered her office to find John there. She smiled as she removed her coat, "What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed to visit?"

"I would've thought you and Inspector Crawley would be trying to catch Mr. Carlisle for suspicion of multiple murders."

"It's out of our hands, in that regard." John shook his head. "Once we proved what we did we… Ran into some significant walls."

"I can't imagine the Home Office was very happy when they found out that Superintendent Flintshire's wife was leaking information to Mr. Carlisle."

John winced as he nodded. "He's… They've said he's taking personal time but it's a little more complicated than that."

"How so?"

"He and his wife were in the midst of getting a divorce so they've been living separately for more than a year." John shrugged, "It was about that time that Susan started working for Carlisle. Or… Working is the wrong word."

"We always called it 'passing information'." Anna took her seat at her desk as John leaned on the edge of it. "What's the final consensus for Flintshire?"

"He'll probably be forced into retirement. They'll make it seem like his choice and he'll get to find a nice, out of the way place to hang his hat but that'll be it. He'll get full pension and no marks on his career but…"

"But everyone knows." Anna chewed the inside of her cheek. "Reminds me, a bit, of those Nazi sympathizers after the war. The ones no one forgave."

"In this case it's the idea of being married to one of those."

"Except she probably can't even say she believed in the cause. It was all for profit so what defense does she have?"

"None." John sighed, "It did finally give us corroboration to Ms. Braithwaite's testimony though."

"Did it?"

John nodded, "Apparently, Susan lost more than a bit at the gaming tables Ms. O'Brien was running out of the back of the Cerulean Swan and that's why she was selling the information on this case to Mr. Carlisle. Gave her some money back and was, I think, a backhanded attempt to rebuild prestige."

"It's a real shame what people endure when they choose their pride over things that really matter." Anna put her toes to the floor to twist slightly in her chair, pushing it from one side to the other as it turned. "Who's acting Super now?"

"We've got a temporary one. Nice chap but young and a bit… fidgety."

"Who?"

"Pelham. Bertie Pelham. He's been transferred down from the north but he seems a bit out of his depth, being honest."

"I'm going to posit that the Home Office filled the vacancy rather quickly." Anna took her turn to sigh. "Then it's all done and dusted?"

"For us, mostly."

Anna narrowed her eyes. "Then why've you got that look on your face like someone else just bought the last pastry at the bakery?"

"That's what I look like when someone does that?"

"You know what I mean." Anna nudged at his foot with one of hers before leaning back in her chair. "What's got you all sad about it."

"It's feels unfinished, you know?" John put his hands up, as if to gesticulate a reaction but dropped them defeatedly onto his lap to sigh. "The story's incomplete and I feel like it was my job to complete it."

"I know that feeling well." Anna waved her hand at the office around them. "We've been finishing up cataloguing everything from that night for the trial and it's been… surreal."

"Because it's unfinished for you as well?"

"Partly." Anna shrugged, "Mostly because I've never been as involved in a case before as I was this one. It feels more personal than any of the others."

"Is that bad?"

"Not when I had the chance to meet you." Anna sat straighter in her chair as John scooted closer to her.

"Oh?"

"Oh." Anna nodded, grinning as John tried to act coy.

"I was curious, since you mentioned it, why we never met before this case." John knocked his knuckles against Anna's desk. "You don't exactly feel like new blood and you didn't work like you were."

"I'm not and I was on sabbatical."

"Sabbatical?"

"Yes, it's where-"

"I know what it is." John shook his head as Anna giggled. "Pedant."

"You never know."

"Why were you on sabbatical?"

"I take one every year or so. Just for a few days or a week or two. Keeps my head clear for the work we do."

John snorted, "Sounds like an excuse to take a holiday."

"It is and you should try it sometime." Anna nudged John with her foot again. "You might find you enjoy not having people shooting at you or constantly being covered in rubbish from the gutter."

"But then I'd miss all the fun of paperwork and questioning people and tracking down leads from people who certainly don't want to talk to me." John pointed a finger at Anna. "And that still doesn't explain how we never met before. Sabbatical or no, we would've had to work together on a case."

"I was day shift then."

"Really?"

Anna nodded, "I used to enjoy the sunshine and then they needed someone competent to take the nightshift with Jane and since the previous office already had more competent people to take the role I thought, 'why not' and switched."

"Must've been murder at first."

"I admit, turning myself into a night owl was hard but I never did like having to wake up before the sun." Anna let a smile slip. "The perks being that I am in charge here. People answer to me and I run my lab with efficiency."

"No one's managed to steal a dead body out from under you nose, that's very true." John held up his hands to defend himself when Anna feinted as if to rise from his chair. "A bit below the belt, I'm sorry."

"I should hope so." Anna's smile dropped slightly, "But there's… There's something that still nags me."

"About?"

"The case." Anna put out a hand to stop John's argument. "Beyond the feeling that we're leaving it unfinished."

"Which part?"

"How Mr. Carlisle did it."

John frowned, "You're the one who realized the trail he was utilizing. That he went through Turkey, courtesy of Mr. Pamuk, and shipped his sources from China and Singapore because of his business interests there after the war."

"Yes but how." Anna tapped her desk. "You don't just wrap up bricks of drugs and not have someone notice they're on a literal drug train."

"I'm following now." John nodded, his gaze shifting to the far wall as he lost himself in thought for a moment. "The question is, how do you take the trail you've developed and actually move your product over it?"

"Exactly." Anna leaned back in her chair again, going so far as to rest her neck on the headrest. "It wasn't something I considered in my original scheme."

"You never thought of the 'how'?"

"I thought, at the time, we'd be using the methods of communication we already established and doing it in bits and pieces. I never envisioned a full-scale drug operation."

"Doctor Smith you disappoint me."

Anna raised an eyebrow, "All previous evidence to the contrary."

John ignored her, "You have no skills at becoming a vicious drug lord. How simple-minded of you."

"Yes," Anna slapped her hand toward her forehead, "How dare I not presume to assume a career in crime after my stint working for the government ended and world peace was, for a time, established."

John stopped, blinking slowly and Anna's smile at their little play-act faded. "What is it?"

"Career in crime."

"It's a nice alliteration but I could've-"

"No." John held up a finger, stopping Anna's argument as he stood and paced near her desk a minute. "It's… The career in crime."

"Whose?"

"More than a few people."

Anna shook her head, sitting straight again. "I'm sorry but I'm not following your train of thought now. You'll have to explain it to me."

"There were a number of individuals, usually soldiers, who got into black market sales after the war."

"We've had a few we dealt with here." Anna narrowed her eyes, "I'm still not entirely on track though."

"We know that Richard Carlisle built his media enterprise on the reporting he did during the war. That his empire is based, primarily, on the introductions and connections he made while embedded with the troops he followed around Europe."

"For all else that can be said about the man, I heard he lost three toes after the Battle of the Bulge."

"It's true." John waved off the comment. "But that's not my point."

"What is your point?"

"What if those same people he met, the ones working at trying to de-Nazify Europe and redraw all the lines of European supremacy, were some of those involved in the black market?"

"It's more than possible." Anna shrugged, "I know more than a few of those people. We worked with them during the war and some of them did it to get out of the pesky charges that might've been leveled at them had they had to atone for their crimes in the aftermath."

"But the aftermath is anarchy and there's a lot to be gobbled up when you can claim it was 'damaged' or 'missing' or simply 'lost'." John's hands spread out like he might create a rainbow between them but Anna finally saw the bridge.

"You think he's using his old connections. The network he built, or stumbled across in the course of his work as a reporter, and that's how he's smuggling the drugs over those lines."

"Exactly." John snapped his fingers. "More and more of these priceless treasures are being found every day. Whether or not they were ever truly lost is a crime for another time, but what if…"

"What if that's how he's doing it?" Anna nodded, pursing her lips before taking a breath. "If that's the case, I know someone we'll need to speak to. Someone who's… Who's a bit more involved in that industry than he'd like to admit."

"Why do I still find myself surprised you've got these sorts of friends?"

"Because little old me doesn't exactly look like the type to find herself in situations like this." Anna stood, reaching for her coat. "And, to be clear, I wouldn't consider this man a friend… By any stretch of anyone's imagination."

"Noted."

They left the offices, avoiding a few of the people who gawked in John's direction, and hailed a cab. It took them a few minutes to get across town, Anna pointedly avoiding John's attempts to use her as a distraction from the pestering of the cab driver. When they arrived at the destination Anna paid the driver and shuffled John out in time to try and calm his frayed nerves.

"Lot of help you were there."

"I'd apologize but I'd yet to witness the effects of your popularity and I wanted to see it for myself." Anna cringed, "It's worse than mine."

"You've got people hounding at your door?"

"I've got people who always seem a second away from barraging me with questions about this case." Anna pointed to the building, leading John up the stairs. "He's in here. Or he should be… Workaholic that he is."

"You still follow his schedule?"

"I just know about it." Anna shrugged it off, accepting John opening the door for her as they entered the building, John showing his credentials to the man who tried to warn them about closing time. "I like to keep tabs on people who could… Be useful, in the future."

"I've got a feeling it's about a little more than that."

Anna paused, gritting her teeth a moment before facing John. "I keep apprised of the locations and movements of people who might, if they so desired, use information they gathered about me to their advantage in the future."

"And your detriment?"

"That depends on whether or not that information I've still got on him is valid." Anna let out a shaky breath. "I'd hate to be caught unawares."

"So we're into the belly of the beast?" John trailed Anna as she led them through the exhibits and around a cordon warning patrons away from the offices.

"More like confronting a trickster god but even that, in my opinion, gives him a little too much credit."

"It didn't stop you giving me the codename Loki when you used my information." They both stopped as a gaunt man, with an almost hypnotizing voice approached them. His immaculate suit, cut perfectly to him, almost distracted from the slightly bug-eyed expression he gave between winkles and graying hair. "I'd assumed it was a compliment but now I'm not sure."

"Mr. Bricker, just the man we were hoping to see."

"Doctor, it's been some time." He extended his hand and Anna gave hers over reluctantly, noting the dryness of his lips when he kissed her skin. "I was wondering when you'd come to call."

"Why, nervous we'd figure something out before you had a chance to tuck it into a corner and scurry away?"

"So suspicious." He put a hand to his heart, "I'm wounded that you think so little of me and my profession."

"Don't flatter yourself, we all think so little of your profession." John pointed back towards the exhibits. "I'm no purveyor of art, but I'd hazard at least a third of that collection is stolen."

"Possession is nine-tenths of the law, is it not?"

"Not usually." John studied Bricker for a moment. "Although most find it easier to possess something if the previous owner is dead."

"People die."

"The transfer of possession, in that case, should be because it was of natural causes. Not because their thread was cut short."

"I'm no murderer, sir."

"But you did happen to report on a few families in your area who were Jewish and, lucky for you, owned significant art collections." Anna spoke up, biting hard at the inside of her cheek. "A fact I think the survivors of those families would be curious to know when they inevitably come looking for their stolen family heritage that you've so carefully concealed in this building."

Bricker blanched slightly and tried to recover as his voice took on a quaver. "I've not got the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"I know you do so I won't dither with you about it. We've not got the time." Anna swallowed, "What do you know about Richard Carlisle?"

"He's a newspaper man."

"Did you ever work with him." John shrugged up one shoulder, "Professionally or otherwise. I'm sure the scummy ones, like yourself, happen to grow together like fungus in the right circumstances."

"We've… Spoken. He's a patron of the arts and has attended a few of the galas we've hosted at the museum." Bricker pulled at his coat, "Why?"

"Because we've got a feeling he's been giving you a cut of a business that'll get you in very serious trouble if you're not very straightforward with us very quickly." Anna eyed Bricker, "What do you know about Mr. Carlisle's trade in illicit drugs and other trafficking?"

Bricker went positively white. "I-"

"Remember," John held up a finger in warning, "It won't do to lie to us."

"I didn't-"

"Because if you do," John took a step toward Bricker, sending the man tripping slightly into the wall behind him. "We'll make sure it all tumbles down around your ears."

"And if I don't?" Bricker swallowed hard enough to send his Adam's apple knocking to his collar and back. "Lie, I mean? If I don't lie then what?"

"Then you might just keep this fabulous suit on your back." John dusted at the man's shoulders before shrugging. "But that really all depends on you, doesn't it?"

Bricker looked between Anna and John before speaking. "I want a deal and I'll give you everything."

"Now that wasn't so hard." John clamped a hand on Bricker's shoulder and turned to Anna. "You were absolutely right."

"About what, specifically?"

"This man is no one's friend."

"All the better for us then." Anna gave Bricker a smile. "Isn't it?"

The morning after Bricker's confession sent another flurry of papers, none of them belonging to Carlisle, into a printing frenzy. In one day there were no less than five editions of Mr. Gregson's paper and within a week of Carlisle's arrest the same Mr. Gregson owned most of Carlisle's former holdings. And before the trial even set dates Gregson's reporters had the whole story from start to finish printed and reprinted faster and better than anyone else in the city could even attempt.

Flintshire's 'fall from grace', as one paper attempted to paint it, was swiftly stifled and Flintshire was instead painted as the cuckhold of a greedy, conniving wife. A publishing effort, in no small part, orchestrated between Anna and Atticus through his wife, and Flintshire's daughter, Rose. An effort that allowed Flintshire to retire to Scotland and live out his retirement in relative anonymity.

The new superintendent of the station, Bertie Pelham, accepted the position only until they promoted someone else to the role and quickly handed it over to Inspector Crawley when the time allowed. A move John heartily agreed with but caused an upset as Inspector Crawley immediately changed the running of the station in light of the pitfalls and stumblings the precinct endured during the case. A case that soon brought their precinct under the national eye as the date for Carlisle's trial loomed.

It was on the eve of that trial that Anna found herself, once again, sharing John's room at his mother's house. A fact that she teased him with as they giggled and shushed one another up the stairs while trying to avoid his mother. Or at least pretend they had no ulterior motives.

But once John's lips were on Anna's, there was nothing she could do but succumb to him. To the slow way he pulled at her. To the gentle form of his hands around her jaw to keep her close. To the way their hearts slowed to beat together as they dragged their kisses longer and longer.

Their shoes kicked against one another as they tried to escape them. Anna found herself on the bed, pressed back into John's duvet as he struggled to remove his jacket and waistcoat. Attempting to help him only distracted them with shared kisses and fumbling fingers until John firmly pressed Anna's hands to her clothing while he managed his own. Even then, they only managed a few layers before they returned to trying to breathe the air from the other's lungs.

They managed it. Wrinkles and at least one moment where something tore but Anna could not tell if it was her stockings or his shirt. Either way they materials joined a growing pile of the floor of his room and they tried to grow quiet again. A desire helped by the idea that, in the next instant, they were already lost in kisses again, burying any of their moans or desires in the slow burn of the moment.

John moved over Anna again, their skin sliding together as they shifted and adjusted to allow them both onto the space that might betray them with squeaks or groans as they moved. There was no time to consider that as John pulled away from Anna's mouth, ignoring her half-whine that soon turned into a sigh of pleasure, and set his lips in slow kisses moving down her torso. Every motion lost in the haze of his gentle trek down her body.

Stopping along the way afforded Anna the opportunity to score over his back with her nails as he kissed and sucked at her breasts. Or to arch her back, pushing more of her breast into his mouth, when John drug one of her nipples between his teeth. Or find purchase in his hair when his shoulders separated her legs so his mouth could settle over her core. Or almost bite through her lip when he lavished attention at her folds before driving his fingers and tongue deep enough to encourage Anna to climax with her heels digging just under his shoulder blades.

The hazy aftermath allowed Anna a smile at John's self-satisfied expression. Words almost formed on her tongue about how proud he must feel of what he could accomplish but Anna settled instead of surprising him by sitting up and clamping her hand at the back of his neck to bring their lips together. Whatever moment of shock he might have experience faded into the kiss that also distracted him long enough for Anna to flip John onto his back.

Despite the bed's betraying groan at the motion, John bouncing slightly to the squeak of the springs, Anna settled herself over John and interlaced their fingers to drag his arms above his head. Their fingers curled together, gripping tightly when Anna took John's mouth in a ravishing kiss of her own while she dragged her sopping folds against the growing presence of his erection. A method of slow-burning torture that did not cease when Anna drew back from the kiss to watch John's face as she rolled her hips slowly against him.

Then it was her turn to leave him whining for more as she marked her own path down his torso. The destination was the same as Anna bent herself to run her tongue along the underside of his arousal. John's hips bucked at the motion and Anna almost sighed when his fingers delved into her hair, massaging her scalp as she dragged her teeth over his sensitive skin and allowed the tang of their combined tastes to coat her tongue. And she almost managed to drag his climax from him, her tongue even delving into the slit at the tip of him as if to sneak a better taste, but John begging for her to bring them together overpowered her.

She could refuse nothing in those eyes when they pleaded with her to move. So Anna raised herself up, slinking along John's torso to put their mouths an inch apart, and sank down while never losing eye-contact with him. Even when their bodies shuddered together. Even when their breaths grew short. She did not lose his gaze for a single moment.

Then he thrust into her.

The firm hold of his fingers on her hips, almost fitting into well-worn groves he made there, left Anna helpless. She planted her palms on his chest, her nails grazing against his skin as she rode into his thrusts and dug her knees into his sides to keep herself steady. With the squeaking of the springs and the creaking of the cracked bed betraying their tempo, Anna lost herself in the ride of him.

Lost herself in the pleasures of his fingers as they kneaded and massaged her breasts before his lips returned to their earlier adoration of them. Lost herself in the kisses they exchanged as they held at one another before Anna pushed him down again so she could arch back and change the angle of John inside her. Lost herself in the freedom riding him gave her until John reminded her of their mutual goal as his fingers pressed and teased at her clit. Then it only took an eternity in a moment for her to break over him and bring John with her.

They sagged into the bed, holding as closely together as they could with weak limbs and quivering muscles. Held together as their breathing eased and Anna could finally risk speaking. "I think your mother heard us."

"She's probably already left for whatever she does during the day." John's fingers half-heartedly stroked into her hair but skittered as they both jumped when a fist banged on the door.

"Take care what you do in there! You're both old enough to know the consequences if you're not careful."

For as white as John's face was, Anna could not stop herself laughing at it. She tried to hide the laughter behind her hand but it continued to bubble forth until they heard the front door of the house close. Then she fought for air as she struggled to not continue laughing at the discomfiture on John's face.

"It's not funny."

"But it is." Anna took his hand, still trying to breathe normally. "With all we're facing and everything we've gone through, the idea that you're still nervous about your mother knowing what you're doing to a woman in your bed is… innocent."

"I don't feel very innocent."

"Neither do I but you look it." Anna put her hand to his cheek. "And, to answer your mother's question, I'm fully aware of the consequences if we're not careful with what we're doing."

"I don't think it was a question."

"but it is something to keep in mind." Anna lay back. "We're not young people, you and I, and there could be repercussions for what we're doing."

"I assume you're speaking physiologically and not professionally."

"Very astute of you, Inspector, you should solve crimes for a living." Anna shoved at John as he took a turn to laugh at her. "But you know what I mean."

"I do. Which is why," John leaned over, allowing Anna a moment to trace her hand over the broad span of his back before he turned back around and held a box between both hands. "I was going to give you this."

"What?" Anna sat up, fumbling in the covers as John opened the box to display a simple silver band.

"Not so long ago we met and knew we'd understand each other better than anyone else. All that's happened since then has just confirmed it to me." John took a breath, meeting Anna's eyes. "Whenever you'd like, whenever you're ready, whatever the circumstances, and however you'd want, I'd like to be yours. If you'll have me."

"If I'll have you?"

John nodded, "I've known, since perhaps the moment I met you, that I wasn't worthy of you. But I'd like to be given the chance to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as I possibly can." The plea in his eyes, hope tempered with the possibility of failure, called to her. "Will you allow me that, Anna?"

She put out her hand, a smile nearly splitting her face in two as John slid the ring into place. "How could I ever say no?"

"I'd hope you wouldn't." John set the box back on the bedside table before turning back to kiss Anna. "I feared you might but-"

"Never fear that." Anna put her hand over his mouth. "I love you, John Bates, and I'm going to look forward unreservedly to spending the rest of my life with you."

"As am I." John kissed her again, folding Anna under him as their kisses turned more heated the second Anna put her hand, with the ring now glinting on her finger, against his cheek. His hands framed her face and their bodies molded together as he all but pressed her into the mattress with the depth of his kisses. "I'm going to spend every minute trying to make you happy."

And as he took a return trip kissing every inch of Anna's body, she could swear by his promise. A promise that had John returning to her abdomen after his fingers and mouth left her helpless in the face of another orgasm. He paused, his lingering kiss just above her bellybutton bringing Anna's eyes to his. Another kiss there distracted Anna before John rose over her to bring their lips together. When they parted his mouth moved to her ear, whispering to her as his fingers caressed the skin there. "One day we'll grow a child here."

"Yes." Anna breathed, almost digging her nails into the back of John's scalp as she brought their mouths together again. "Yes. A thousand times yes."

So they endeavored to try. With John's hands moving over her, holding one of Anna's thighs to his hip, and driving into her with abandon, Anna cried out to the silence of the house. Cried out as her nails sunk into the flesh of John's ass to keep him close as he used the piston of his hips to pound into her. Breathed against his neck when she held him close as he finished. Caressed his skin as they came together in the aftermath to relish in the quiet together.