Author's Notes: I do not own Once Upon A Time which is a show on ABC that in an interesting piece of trivia has an actor who used to be married to the person who played the woman on another show I don't own. Don't own Sherlock Holmes, don't own Olaf. Thank you for the reads and reviews! I really appreciate it and will get back to you soon. Please continue to let me know what you think and happy reading!


Then

"Alright, mirror," Zelena said, tired before she even made the request. "Show me Princess Beatrice."

"Are you sure that's a good idea-"

"Show me!," she snapped.

The mirror quickly complied and the princess appeared. Mirrors were kept covered in the Far North Kingdom- that land foiled Zelena's every move- but it was made of ice and ice provided enough of a reflection for the magic to work. The princess appeared in the throne room of the Ice Palace, wearing a deep blue gown.

Princess Belle appeared to be holding court as various lords and ladies paid tribute. The Dark One stood at her side and Princess Beatrice only appeared to be paying half attention as she scribbled on some enchanted paper as that snowman peered over her shoulder. With a flick of the wrist, the paper disappeared and then reappeared a few moments later.

"What's that name? Who's she writing to?," asked Zelena.

The mirror paused. "It says Sherlock."

"Who is he? Find him!"

"What are you writing?," Olaf whispered to Beatrice. "I can't read it from here."

"Shh," hissed Beatrice.

"Is that everyone, Zazu?," asked Belle.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Then perhaps now would be a good time to discuss an upcoming celebration," Belle said with a smile. She looked at Rumplestiltskin. "What do you think?"

"I would agree, poppet, if a certain princess could be bothered to stop writing."

Beatrice made one last flick of her wrist and the paper vanished. "Sorry."

Belle turned. "Sir Mycroft?"

The man stepped forward with some papers. "I have the guest list for Your Highness' approval as well as a proposed itinerary for the day's celebrations."

Belle took the papers. She passed the guest list to Beatrice and kept the itinerary.

"The festival is to start at one with words from Your Highnesses. It will run until dusk when the fireworks begin and after that the ball."

"Are we having cupcakes at the fair?," asked Beatrice.

"There was discussion of light refreshments," said Mycroft.

"Can they be blue?," asked Beatrice.

"Blue?," asked Belle. "Why blue?"

Beatrice shrugged.

"Alright," said Belle. "Blue cupcakes if at all possible."

"Is this the final guest list?," asked Beatrice.

"Is there a problem, your highness?," asked Mycroft.

"Sherlock's not on it."

"I'm certain he has his duties, sweetheart," said Rumplestiltskin.

Belle shot him a look.

"Yeah, I mean, it's too bad we don't have ways of magically transporting people from place to place," said Beatrice.

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes as his own sarcasm shot back at him in the form of his daughter.

"Why don't you just use some magic?," asked Olaf.

"That's the one," said Beatrice.

Belle looked at Mycroft. "How is Sherlock's assignment in Agrabah going?"

"Splendidly, Your Highness. We ought to have news to report soon, but I believe my brother could be spared if that is what the Dark Princess wishes."

Belle looked over at Beatrice who gave a pleading look. Belle looked back at Mycroft with a smile.

"Yes, Sir Mycroft, I believe it is."

"A crush," Zelena said with pleasure. "The Dark Princess has a crush. How could we have fun with that?"

"You want the Woman," said the Mirror.


Now

Beatrice awoke to find someone tending to the fire in her room. A girl, a little younger than her, blonde hair. she made eye contact with the girl and she quickly bowed her head.

"I'm so sorry, Your Highness. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Uh, that's okay..."

"Alexandra, Your Highness."

Rumplestilltskin entered, quickly casting a glare at the girl. She bowed her head and collected her things, rushing out.

"Is that Cinderella's kid?," asked Beatrice.

"That was the name of her birth mother, yes," said Rumplestiltskin, passing her a robe.

"So she still sold her?"

"Many royal households underwent a great deal of turmoil when the Green Queen's march began. That kingdom offered me something I needed and in exchange, I saved their princess."

"To be a maid?"

"It's still a damn sight better than that idiot mother of hers," said Rumplestiltskin. "The reindeer groom and his wife had no children of their own, they took her in. She's been very well looked after, but she didn't want to continue her education and she had to take up an occupation."

"Seriously, she's a teenager..."

"You've said before the Land Without Magic is different. Is this one of the ways?"

"You mean like teenagers stay in school whether they want to or not? Yeah."

"Your mother tried to institute such a thing. It didn't meet with the approval of the whole kingdom. Besides, the world needs maids and stable boys and spinners."

"And me?"

"You need to get dressed." He waved his hands and a purple wool riding habit appeared. "We have a long journey ahead of us."


Now

Beatrice walked to the courtyard where the party that was going to the southern frontier assembled. Olaf walked behind her.

"Are you sure you're okay, Beatrice?"

"Olaf, I've got this. I don't know what I've done here, but it's not my first magical adventure," she assured him.

"You don't know Zelena," said Olaf. "She can be very cranky."

Beatrice turned to see Sherlock standing in front of her.

"Good morning," said Beatrice.

He frowned and turned around.

"What?!," snapped Beatrice.

"You're still not you," he replied without looking back.

"How can you even tell that?!"

"Your scarf is tied wrong!"

Beatrice groaned and looked at Olaf.

"Do I like him when he's this irritating?"

"It's never bothered you before."

"Your horse, Your Highness."

Beatrice turned to see David bringing her a horse.

"Uh, okay," said Beatrice. She looked up as the animal nuzzled her.

"Shall I fetch your saddle, Your Highness?"

"That seems like the thing to do."

Beatrice was suddenly aware of Mycroft standing next to her. "Perhaps Your Highness would like to ride in the carriage today."

The horse kept nuzzling Beatrice. "Uh, no, saddle, I guess."

David nodded and left. Beatrice turned to Mycroft.

"Do you know who that is? Or who he would be? Or who he is?"

"I think his name is James or something. I know you don't ride in your other life and I am taking the carriage, Your Highness."

Beatrice frowned. "So, I've been doing this a lot?"

"A fair amount, Your Highness."

Beatrice looked down the path where the other guards and whoever it was that travelled with royalty were getting ready. Sherlock stood by his horse. He looked to be rather unsuccessfully avoiding eye contact by fixing his gloves.

"Do the people really want to see me?"

"Of course, Your Highness."

"I'm the Dark Princess."

"Precisely, ma'am."

"Yeah, usually that's meant ominously."

"It is known throughout the realm that the Dark Princess is the only hope for defeating the Green Queen. The people have known this since the day of your birth."

Beatrice shook her head. "Weird world."


Then

Agrabah was hot.

It was all anyone from the Far North Kingdom would think about there. Hot. Sherlock had been born in a little mountain village called Edelweiss, but even that was known for its short summers. It fell under the Dark One's protection, though and early in his life it became surrounded by the ice walls that protected Princess Belle's subjects from the whims of the Green Queen. It was when he was six that his parents had been summoned to the capitol to become tutors to the Dark Princess. That service had been enough to get their eldest two sons positions with the Ice Princess' government and when Sherlock came of age something had to be found for him. Sherlock could have managed as a soldier, but it would have been an ill fit for all parties. Mycroft had a lot of pull by then and had come up with the idea of dispatching Sherlock as a spy.

Which was how Sherlock Holmes had come to Agrabah.

He sat in his room, hands steepled, thinking. Agrabah was not against the Far North Kingdom, but they were not allies and there was nothing for them to be gained in becoming closer ones except in becoming a target for Zelena. The Sultan had to be dealing with Zelena. Nothing could have made the marks Sherlock had found except a Flying Monkey.

Truth be told, the only distraction from his work were the little notes Beatrice wrote and magically appeared in his pocket.

The door to his apartment opened. Two men walked in carrying a rug.

"What the hell is that?," asked Sherlock.

"Your rug, sir."

"I didn't order a rug."

"A gift, sir."

The rug unfurled as Sherlock stood. It rolled out to the floor revealing a woman. She was raven haired with a slash of red lips, her figure clad in an embroidered silk gown.

She turned to the men. "You can go now."

The delivery men quickly nodded their acquiescence and scurried out.

She looked plaintively at him.

"Aren't you going to help me up?"

"I think you can manage for yourself."

The woman pouted and twisted her body to stand.

"Usually I find men to be more useful things. Then again, I never expected you to be so handsome, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock considered her words. "So, what do you want?"

"What makes you think I want something?"

"You've come to my apartment and you know who I am and that means you must know where I'm from, so you must want a deal."

"I've spent the past few years with the Sultan, but I've tired of his company." She approached to where she stood inches away from Sherlock. "I'd like to go someplace cooler. Can you help me with that, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock turned away. "And what would you be offering the Far North Kingdom in return?"

"How is this?"

Sherlock turned to see that the woman was holding a pewter box emblazoned with a glowing emerald.

"A gift from the Green Queen to the Sultan," said Irene. "Do you think it might be worth something?"

Sherlock took the box. Whatever it was, the magic it used concealed its true purpose. He didn't know the ways of magic well enough. If there was one thing they had in the Far North Kingdom, it was mages.

"I would need to ask an expert."

"Well, that box is my life. I'm not letting it out of my sight so wherever your expert is, I'm going as well."


Now

Once they had left the Ice Palace walls, it became apparent to Beatrice that this was a much different world. The people had all stopped for the procession with cheers for Princess Belle and Princess Beatrice. She sat slack-jawed as the horse went along.

"Wave," Sherlock hissed.

She looked to her side, she hadn't even realized he had advanced from the back.

"What?"

"You're acting as if this has never happened to you before."

"Well, it hasn't."

"Yes, it has. Wave."

Beatrice looked back to the smiling faces of the people and attempted a wave. It came across as something between Miss America and what it might look like if she had a Barbie arm.

"Look at your mother," Sherlock said with some exasperation.

Beatrice looked up where her mother was.

"Of course she would pull off some elegant princess wave," muttered Beatrice, attempting a poor imitation of it. "Why do you care?"

"Zelena has spies everywhere. You can't give up your disguise for one moment."

"Right, let me just keep on this disguise."

"It is a disguise."

Beatrice groaned. "What is your problem?"

"My problem? My problem is that you know who you are less time than you think you're this other Beatrice."

"Sorry I'm not good enough for you."

Sherlock rode on.

"Oh, yeah, ride your horse away. That's really mature!"


Then

A day after the woman arrived, a message arrived by bird from Mycroft for Sherlock to return home for the Dark Princess' birthday party. The journey would take weeks and required a ship to travel around Zelena's territory. When they did arrive it was already Beatrice's birthday and Sherlock organized her rooms for her before she insisted on accompanying him to the palace.

When Sherlock and Irene got there, the crowds had already gathered for the opening of the Princess' Birthday Frost Fair and it was in full swing as the sun went down. He and Irene headed for the castle entrance just as the fireworks began.

"What's this?," asked Irene.

"The princess' birthday."

"It seems a big production for some spoiled girl's party."

"They do this every year," said Sherlock. "All of the children in the city are invited and they partake in games. There are refreshments for all."

Irene scoffed. "Even more spoiled then. Attention seeking."

"She was born the Dark Princess, she could hardly escape the attention if she wished to."

"So I've heard. The one person who can defeat the Green Queen," she said, dripping with sarcasm. She looked at Sherlock. "Tell me. If she's so capable, then why doesn't she just do it?"

"Sherlock."

Sherlock turned to see his elder brother, unsuccessfully trying to disguise disapproval.

"Ah, Irene, meet my brother, Mycroft. He runs the kingdom."

"I hold a minor administrative position. Sherlock, may I speak with you alone?"

Mycroft walked away before Sherlock could reply and thus left him bereft of a choice. With no options, he followed his brother to a corner of the ballroom.

"What do you think you're doing, brother?"

"I'm attending a ball. You were quite insistent on it."

"It wasn't I who was insistent. It was the Dark Princess herself who requested your presence."

"Do your career ambitions really rely on my seducing a young girl?"

"And you pretend you have no affection for her."

"Affection? Is that some form of sentiment? Really, Mycroft, I expected more from you."

"You shouldn't look upon it as sentiment, self preservation might be a more apt description."

"Self preservation? Really, Mycroft..."

"You've never been in a room alone with the Dark One, have you? Believe me, there is a reason he has the title."

"What's he going to do, Mycroft? Turn me into a snail?"

"Simply put, yes, little brother."

Irene approached. "Am I missing all the fun?"

"Then I'll see you tomorrow," Sherlock said to Mycroft. He led Irene away.


Beatrice looked in the mirror. Her father had worked on the lavender gown himself, with little stripes of gold thread in the skirt.

"Ten more seconds," said Rumplestiltskin.

"Papa!"

He waved his hand and the mirror disappeared.

"I wasn't done," Beatrice complained.

"The Queen can find even new mirrors and besides that there's no need to stare in a mirror all day looking for some flaw you don't have. Ask your great-grandmother about a man called Narcissus some time."

"I just-"

"You just what?," asked Rumplestiltskin.

She shook her head. "Never mind."

"What, sweetheart?"

"I just don't want to look stupid."

"Oh, sweetheart, how could you look stupid?"

Belle entered. "Oh, my baby." She gave Beatrice a quick squeeze. "You look so very grown up."

"Not too grown up," said Rumplestiltskin.

"Well, what is it?," asked Beatrice. "Do I look grown up or not grown up?"

"You look perfect," said Belle.

They made their way to the balcony that looked down onto the ballroom. One of the dances had already begun and Beatrice searched through the crowd, seeking out Sherlock.

Her trouble was starting at the wall first. He never put himself out on the dance floor on his own and could be counted upon to hang back and people watch. She didn't find him there and searched through the dancers.

Where she found him.

With a woman.

An actual grown up, not just some sixteen year old that was pretending for the evening.

"Beatrice," Belle said, gently pushing her along.

The dance ended and the trumpets once again sounded.

"My lords, ladies and gentlemen please welcome the Dark Princess Beatrice!"

The attendees applauded as Beatrice descended the staircase.

Belle spoke. "Loyal subjects, visiting dignitaries, my family and I would like to thank you personally for coming to celebrate Beatrice's birthday with us. It is hard to believe the Dark Princess is sixteen already and will soon be entering her majority. I know of no one more capable and I, like all of you, look forward to the golden age that Beatrice's rule will doubtless usher in."

The subjects applauded as Beatrice accepted hugs from her parents. She stood by her parents' side and politely greeted the various dignitaries.

She found him at the refreshment table. The woman was hanging all over him and as Beatrice watched, she ended up accidentally freezing her punch glass as she held it in her hand.

"Beatrice."

She suddenly looked up to see Sherlock.

"Hi," she said.

"Is something the matter?," he asked, looking at the glass.

"No, my drink just wasn't cold enough and I overcompensated," said Beatrice. She pawned off the glass on a passing waiter. "When did you get back from Agrabah?"

"Only today."

"Just today?," said Beatrice.

"Yes."

Beatrice then found herself face to face with the woman as she sided up to Sherlock.

"So," said Beatrice, "who's your friend?"

"Princess Beatrice, Irene Adler. Irene Adler, Princess Beatrice."

Irene curtsied. "Your Highness."

"Are you new to the Far North Kingdom?"

"Yes, Sherlock brought me."

"From Agrabah?," asked Beatrice. "What were you doing in Agrabah?"

"I make my way. The Sultan was very good to me," she said in a way that meant even Beatrice could decipher what she meant.

Another waltz began.

Irene turned to Sherlock. "Take me around again."

Beatrice looked to him and before she could think of something to say, the pair was on the floor again. The couples swirled around her and Beatrice was left standing alone on the dance floor, feeling like a fool in a fancy gown.

"Sweetheart?," Rumplestiltskin asked after an eternity.

"I am done," said Beatrice, turning to run up the stairs.


Throwing herself on the bed seemed to be the best answer.

"Beatrice..." said Belle, getting on the bed next to her. Beatrice hadn't even realized she had been followed. "Come on now. It's your birthday. You can't cry on your birthday."

"Then maybe someone should toss out the, the-" Beatrice couldn't even find the words.

"The presumptuous tart in the red gown?," offered Rumplestiltskin.

"Yes!," said Beatrice.

"Very well."

"Rumple!," Belle hissed. She turned back to Beatrice. "And then what? Your father vanquishes this woman with magic and Sherlock will just fall into your arms?"

Beatrice paused. "Well, maybe we could put a few more steps in the plan."


Now

Beatrice rode on with the rest of the procession. Suddenly, Sherlock grabbed the reins of her horse.

"Ready to talk?"

"Shut up," he snapped.

"You shut up," Beatrice shot back.

He looked at her. "Don't you see the trees?"

Beatrice looked up at the treetops. She took too long to see what was so different about them.

"Surely you have those in the Land Without Magic. You might have looked at one from time to time."

Beatrice fumed. "Do you have to be such an-"

Before she could utter some words that her father would surely scold her for, the winds shifted around them, tearing up the earth, a wall of spinning dirt and slush and grass blocked her parents from view.

"Beatrice!," she heard Belle call.

"Mom!"

Before she truly knew what was happening, the horse had bucked landing her on the ground. She suddenly found herself confronted with a Flying Monkey headed straight towards her.

Which Sherlock Holmes basically hacked at with a sword.

"Okay, ew..."

Sherlock grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her from the ground.

"Get us out of here," he barked.

"What? I can't get us out of here."

"Of course you can!"

She shook her head. "The teleportation thing? I don't do that!"

"What exactly can you do?!"

Faced with another wall of Flying Monkeys, Beatrice put up her hands and a wall of ice grew from the ground, causing the Flying Monkeys to fly straight into it.

"Not really smart for primates, are they?," asked Beatrice as they continued to smack to the ground.

"Well, well, Dark Princess," a taunting voice called out, "How are we feeling today?"

Beatrice looked up. The reflection of the glass showed Zelena in her green skin.

"I heard you were missing a few pieces," said Zelena.

"I'm good. How are you?," said Beatrice.

"Oh, you're deciding to be brave today, are you? Just like mummy taught you?"

"Better than whatever crap Cora taught you," said Beatrice.

"Don't you dare speak of my mother!," snapped Zelena. "Your wretched grandfather killed her! You're not worthy to speak her name!"

Beatrice looked at Sherlock. "Really?"

"It was complicated as I understand it."

"Look, whatever it is you want, why don't you just come up here and get it?"

"You can't hide in the ice forever," said Zelena.

"Well, the cold never bothered me anyway," said Beatrice. She looked to Sherlock for confirmation, but realized he didn't know the reference. "Come on, this is worse than Storybrooke."

Zelena disappeared.

"Come on," said Sherlock.

"Where are we going?"

"The regiment isn't far away. They'll send search parties for you, but I know the way to the camp."


Then

Beatrice spent the morning after the ball in bed, staring at her pillow.

Catherine entered. "Alright, you are running out of relatives, young lady. I'm going to have to send Maleficent in next. Time to get up."

"Why should I get up?"

"Because it's almost noon."

"No, really. You need me to defeat Zelena? Fine. Come get me when you have a way to do that, but otherwise, forget it."

Catherine sat down in the chair beside the bed. "Beatrice, you can't let yourself be so consumed by a man. You need to have a life of your own."

Beatrice sat up. "That's just it, though! I'm the Dark Princess, I have to defeat the Green Queen and save the realm. I don't have a life of my own."

Catherine nodded. "We all know the burden you bear is a heavy one, but some are born to greatness."

"I just wanted someone to love me for me, not because I'm the Dark Princess, not because I can defeat Zelena."

"Your family loves you."

"My family has to love me," said Beatrice. "He doesn't, but then again, he doesn't love me. He's with her."

Catherine laughed. "Her?"

"You saw him," said Beatrice.

"Beatrice," said Catherine, taking her hand, "you are very young and innocent."

"Yeah, that seems to be my problem."

"My point is that you don't know how women can be. I spent years in different courts when I was your age. I've seen everything and trust me, that woman is a social climber."

"She is?," asked Beatrice.

"Yes," said Catherine. "I overheard Sir Mycroft saying she was in the harem in Agrabah. Bored of the Sultan, she probably looked to Sherlock for the first ticket out, an invitation to the Far North Kingdom with connections to the royal family? It's just the sort of opportunity that women like her jump at."

"They do?"

"Yes. Believe me, once she finds someone with a title or land or whatever it is she's after, she'll leave Sherlock alone."

"What do I do until then?"

"Well, you certainly don't tell Sherlock," said Catherine. "We could hasten the process along."

"How?"

"Let me think on it. The best way to deal with this sort is to make a friend of her."


Sherlock entered his brother's office.

Mycroft didn't look up.

"Did you happen to notice the rain last night?"

"Rain could hardly escape my notice even if you think so little of my powers of observation."

"Did you happen to notice the events that preceded the rain?"

"I assume it had something to do with moisture in the clouds."

Suddenly, Mycroft slammed the journal he had been writing in shut and looked at his brother.

"You made her cry."

"Made who cry? What are you talking about?"

"You swirled around the dance floor at her birthday ball with a concubine of the Sultan of Agrabah. What was the poor girl supposed to think?"

"I was more concerned with what Miss Adler would think."

"I'm sorry?"

"She's an agent of Zelena's. It only took an afternoon to tear apart her harem story. She's not even from this realm. I bribed the portal jumper who retrieved her for the real story. I wanted the woman to think I had fallen for her game. To that end, the ball suited my needs perfectly."

Mycroft sat in consideration of these facts. "Do you think she knows anything useful?"

"That's why I brought her here. I'm not skilled in potions, but you have people who are."

"And what is the Dark Princess supposed to think?"

"We're friends. She'll understand."

"Friends?," asked Mycroft. "Is that what you call it?"


After finishing with Mycroft and his people, Sherlock ventured back into the residential area of the palace. Belle was holding court, Rumplestiltskin was at her side, but Beatrice was not.

He did find Olaf.

"Olaf, where's Beatrice?"

"Beatrice? She went to meet your friend."

"What friend? I only have one friend."

"Wow, Sherlock, I'm really flattered, but I think Beatrice is going to be upset when she hears that."

Sherlock shook his head. "I didn't mean you. I meant her."

Olaf stared at him. "So, we're not friends?"

Sherlock sighed in exasperation.

"It just seemed like we were friends," said Olaf.

"Fine, I have two friends, but where is Beatrice?"

"So, if I'm one of the two who was the woman?"

It clicked. "Irene? Beatrice went to see Irene?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Sherlock turned and ran.

"Sherlock!," called Olaf. "We're still friends, right, buddy?"


Now

They walked.

And walked.

And walked.

They continued walking until the camp was finally in the distance.

"The southern frontier," said Sherlock. "Colonel Mulan and her soldiers have been here for some time now since the border expands every day. Zelena's kingdom shrinks more and more, but she becomes more dangerous. The dying serpent is the most dangerous."

Beatrice looked at Sherlock. "Then I suppose we should go. My parents will be worried."

"Right," said Sherlock.

"And yet we're not moving."

"I don't hate you," said Sherlock.

"Good to know," said Beatrice.

He turned to face her. "When I was six, my parents got the appointment to be your tutors. We moved to the Far North Kingdom from Edelweiss and I tagged along that first day because my brothers were pretending I was invisible."

Beatrice frowned.

"No, they pretended I was literally invisible. You don't want to know how thoroughly I tested that premise..." He shook it off. "I ought to have been amazed by the palace or stunned by your mother's beauty or terrified by your father or possibly the talking snowman, but I wasn't."

Beatrice shrugged. "Well, you couldn't be Sherlock Holmes if you were scared of a talking snowman."

"You came out from behind your mother's skirt and everything else fell away. Nobody has ever been able to do that for me and when you are not here, I'm the only one who knows that."

Sherlock walked away.

"It was my birthday," said Beatrice.

He stopped and turned. Beatrice walked closer.

"I was turning seventeen and I had just had the most awful summer," said Beatrice. "I'm lucky if I can get a civil word in Storybrooke and I had exactly one date from this kid who was struck with Cupid's Arrow by King Arthur. I'm untouchable, nobody was ever going to fall in love with me. Ariel invited me to a beach party and it was all couples. So I got my parents to let me go to physics camp at MIT."

"MIT?," asked Sherlock.

"Yeah, it's this university. Anyway, I went and I thought I could be free to find someone, to have a boyfriend and there was this guy I thought I really liked, but he had a girlfriend. A real girlfriend and he didn't see why he should choose me. I was just some dork from Maine."

Sherlock scoffed.

"Then I started hanging out with Jamie and he was nice and liked watching Doctor Who and Sher-"

Sherlock glanced up at her inquiringly.

"Side note, there's a TV show called Sherlock. TV is-"

"You've explained TV before. So, every week people watch some story about me?"

"Not every week," said Beatrice. "Like for three weeks every two years because of well, The Hobbit and Star Trek. Let's not even talk about Elementary. So, I just hung out with him and my dad could see right through it. He knew I was settling and I just don't get my parents sometimes because they think the answer is always magical and I can't see that. So, my mom made me wish on a birthday candle that I would meet my True Love... then you walked in."

"I walked in?"

"And I don't know what to call it or what happened, but something changed then. I tried to pretend it didn't. You were it, but I never thought there was any way you could stay or that you were from the Enchanted Forest." She inhaled in shock. "Oh, my God, I'm Sherlocked."

"You're what?"

"It's just this thing from the episode with the woman." She started walking with him.

"I see. And what do they say of the Woman in this land?"

"Well, she's the Woman. The one Woman who could outwit Sherlock Holmes. In the short story. The one woman who matters."

"I don't think they got that quite right."

"She impressed you."

"Hardly."


Then

Sherlock entered the apartment he had gotten for the woman. Beatrice laid in state on the chaise.

"Beatrice," he said rushing over. He found no pulse, no breath, but the body was perfectly preserved, no signs of death taking hold.

"Oh, Sherlock, thank the Gods you're here," said Irene. "I don't know what happened. She just took a sip of the tea..."

Sherlock looked to the tea service on the table. Smelling the tea in the cup he detected nothing, but a sniff of the chip in the rim told a different story.

"I don't know what could have-"

Sherlock thundered across the room, grabbing the woman by her reedy neck and slamming her against the wall.

"What did you do?"

"Sherlock, I don't know what-"

"I have enjoyed the game, but the game is over."

"What game, Sherlock?"

"You don't think I knew you were the Green Queen's agent? You arrive the same time as my orders back here along with promises of information only you have? Now, what poison was it?"

"There's nothing you can do for her now."

"I have the Dark One and Merlin on call, somehow I think I'll manage."

"It wasn't a poison. It was a sleeping curse."

"Curses can be broken."

She shook her head. "Not this one."

Sherlock smiled. The woman wondered at what he was doing.

"When I was a boy, Beatrice told me a story about a beast and I learned all curses can be broken. Sometimes they must not be, but they can be."

"Oh, poor man. You're not serious. You don't just conjure True Love's Kiss even if you are somewhat clever." She approached him. "I know you, Sherlock Holmes. You love the game and that's it."

"I imagine you all thing love is a mystery to me, but it's not," said Sherlock, removing his cloak. He knelt down next to Beatrice and pushed her hair aside. "Love makes us sick, haunts our dreams, destroys our days. I know it all too well and so I have tried to spare myself and her."

Sherlock kissed Beatrice on the lips and as he did a wave of magic broke through the kingdom.

Beatrice's eyes flew open and she gasped to life. Sherlock sat back as she looked at him.

"I was unconscious," she said. "Creepy."

"Sorry."

Irene made a beeline for the door. Beatrice waved her hand and she was encased in a block of ice.

Beatrice turned to Sherlock.

"You can try that kissing thing again."


Now

It wasn't much longer for Beatrice and Sherlock to make it to the camp. Soldiers waited at the gate with the rest of the procession.

Belle and Rumplestiltskin simultaneously ran for Beatrice and took her in their arms.

"Don't scare us," said Belle, eyes full of tears.

Still holding on to Beatrice, Rumplestiltskin looked to Sherlock.

"What did she want?," he asked.

"I believe she knows about the memory loss," said Sherlock.

Belle and Rumplestiltskin exchanged stricken looks.

"I know this must be getting boring, but why is it everyone thinks I can defeat Zelena?," asked Beatrice.

"Because you already did it once," said Belle.

"And when was that?"

"The day you were born," answered Rumplestiltskin.


Then

Beatrice awoke in the dark, panting, sweating. Everywhere around her, she felt it was ice cold. She went to reach for her glasses to find they just weren't there.

"Mom!," she screamed. "Mom!"

Within seconds, a distant door had opened and candlelight drifted in from the hall as a shadow moved towards her. Up close, the moonlight gave her the hint that it was Belle in a silky blue nightdress and a white fur robe of some kind.

"Beatrice, what's wrong?"

"It's dark. You have to turn on the lights."

"Beatrice, what's wrong?," a male voice asked.

She clung to her mother, not liking the sound of a stranger at the moment.

"Who's that?"

A candle was lit casting a glow onto reptilian skin. Beatrice shuddered and clung to Belle tighter.

"Please, please turn on the lights," said Beatrice.

Rumplestiltskin waved his hand and the room was illuminated with candles that floated in midair. Beatrice gasped at the sight.

"Oh, my God, it's finally happened, I've finally gone crazy," said Beatrice.

"Beatrice," said Belle, taking her daughter's face in her hands, "you're home. You're safe. Papa and I are with you."

Beatrice looked out the window. Instead of city lights and the outlines of buildings, there was a vista of a quaint winter village and ice on the horizon.

"This is not Manhattan..." said Beatrice.