A/N: Hi everyone just wanted to say sorry about irregular updates and thank you for continued reviews!

Months had elapsed since Jeremiah and Mary's wedding and I felt as though I'd hardly seen Dr Clarkson in that time. An outbreak of measles among the children of Whitby had kept us both busy and we'd taken to sleeping in separate rooms since desperate mothers had developed the habit of bursting into our cottage in the middle of the night. Even if we had been sharing a room, I was usually asleep before my head hit the pillow nowadays.

Finally however, the outbreak seemed to have reached its peak and those who had contracted the disease were recovering. Some of the children I had treated had died, including a small girl. I've never particularly liked children, or even had much to do with them, but the way little Sophie suffered quietly through her sickness made me want to cry when I went home at night. I knew she was going to die, but I didn't tell her and was evasive when her parents asked me about her condition. After she died, her mother gave me the rag doll her daughter had clutched throughout her illness. I tried to return it, but the grieving woman insisted and I eventually accepted it. I knew it ought to be burnt to prevent the spread of the disease, but I couldn't bring myself to do that. Instead I sterilised it, which felt almost as bad and tucked it away somewhere where I wouldn't have to look at it and be reminded of the patient I hadn't saved. But no other children had died since Sophie and so far none were in danger of dying. Accordingly, John and I had a Sunday afternoon off for the first time since Jeremy's wedding.

I watched John turn the pages of his book, noting the bags under his eyes and how exhausted he looked, before sidling over to the sofa and placing my head in his lap. John absentmindedly began stroking my hair, without looking up from his book. I sat there for a moment with my eyes closed like a contented cat before I decided I wanted something more. I moved John's fingers over my face, before placing two in my mouth and beginning to suck, knowing he liked that. John instantly put his book down and leant over to kiss me.

At that moment the door banged open, hitting the wall with some force. John and I both sat swiftly upright, looking guilty. Turning my face towards the door, I was surprised to see Jeremiah with a petulant expression on his face and was besieged with an instant image of him as a surly teenager. I put my fist up to cover my mouth and prevent myself from laughing. Meanwhile, John was looking both perplexed and concerned.

"What are you doing here?" he asked without preamble, "Where's Mary? Not that we aren't glad to see you," he added.

Jeremiah shifted his weight back and forth, looking a little uncomfortable. "Mary and I…have had a falling out," he answered.

I felt my mouth fall open in shock, all previous amusement leaving my face. How could they have had a falling out so soon? They were still supposed to be in their honey moon period.

"What happened son?" John left the couch to clap a sympathetic hand to Jeremy's arm. I found myself gravitating towards the kitchen to make everyone a cup of tea, as John led his son to a seat at the kitchen table. Jeremy had still not answered his father's question when I placed the cups on the table.

"Thank you darling," John said distractedly and I blushed at his using his pet name for me in front of his son. Even Jeremiah looked up momentarily and raised an eyebrow, before offering me a tight smile after I grimaced.

"Mary's just always making an issue out of the smallest things, starting a fight whenever I leave my shoes in the wrong place," Jeremiah said eventually. "Sometimes I think the two of you are lucky. You're both men. I'm sure you don't have fights about dirty socks"

I exchanged a sidelong glance at John before we both burst out laughing. Jeremiah looked confused, before John took pity on him and began to explain. "Thomas and I have actually fought about the state of my laundry," he explained.

"Your father is a pig," I added, by way of clarification.

"If you wanted it done so badly, why not do it yourself?" John flashed.

"I've spent half my life cleaning up after other people, I wasn't about to start picking up after you," I retorted. We both glared at each other for a few moments, before once again erupting into laughter.

Jeremiah looked astonished at this sudden change in mood. "How do you do that?" he asked in a perplexed tone. "How do you fix everything, just like that?"

I paused to think about all the fights John and I had had previously. There was no way I was going to tell Jeremiah how we 'made up'. He might be open to the idea of my having a relationship with his father, but that would be far too much information. Looking over at John's hesitant face I could see that he too, was trying to formulate a plausible lie.

"We…" I cleared my throat to buy time, "talk". Yes, that sounded reasonable.

"Yes," John hurried to agree. "When we feel calm, we sit down and discuss our disagreements"

Jeremiah was nodding and I had the horrible suspicion that he hadn't tried that before storming out. "Have you tried doing that with Mary?" I asked pointedly.

Jeremiah looked sheepish, which I took as my answer. He then picked up his hat and made his way back to the door. "I suppose I'd better go home and try doing that," he announced.

John shook his head fondly at his son, "Only you would take a train from London to Whitby to ask for advice, stay for five minutes and then leave again"

Jeremiah grinned at his father without pausing in his stride. "I'd stay longer, but I didn't tell Mary where I was going and I don't have it in me to start another fight," he explained.

John shook his head after his son banged the door behind him. "Just like when he was a teenager," he said, confirming my suspicions. He seemed to ponder this a moment, before turning to me and inquiring in a polite voice which belied his intentions, "now, where were we?"

I laughed softly, "Perhaps we'd better lock that door, this time".