I am a little frustrated and unhappy with the manner in which this chapter flows; my kindly Beta and I have gone over this tirelessly and still it feels a little trite. My apologies, but as my Beta is abandoning me for four days I felt compelled to submit it as it is or else be forced to wait a further four days when I wish to concentrate on the next part.

Knightfury

"I'm gonna take Chelsea home for a few things and then she's gonna stay with me for a while," Lestrade announces. "Moriarty knows where she lives - that's why she was so scared of him."

"Where is she?" Watson asks anxiously. "And is she all right?"

"She's in my cruiser; it's an unmarked black one. Would you..."

The fellow takes to his heels and runs on ahead, leaving Lestrade to support me (not that I need it) while John and Jones follow a step or two behind.

"...like to talk to her?" the Yarder chuckles. "Looks like she's forgiven, anyway."

I nod and give a violent shiver. "Watson is infatuated."

"Well, good! It's about time he found someone. He's not like us Sherlock - he needs a wife."

I sniff and look away. "I have no objection as long as she will prove to be worthy of his love and trust."

"I'll talk to her, OK?" the Yarder squeezes my arm. "If she'd only trusted me, this could've been sorted out before you 'n' Watson even got back from Canada. Careful Holmes! You OK?"

I regain my balance quickly and nod. "I am only tired."

"Huh, yeah," she shakes her head. "Do me a favour? Get some sleep this time?"

I shiver again and nod. "I suspect that I have little choi - ah... Huh-atchoo!"

"Bless you," the annoyed voice of John says behind us. "If you have caught a cold, you shall have no sympathy from me. Watson and I have given you sufficient warning."

"Aw John," Lestrade again squeezes my arm supportively. "Holmes had more important stuff on his mind than himself - like Watson's safety. You can't blame him for that, can you?"

"It is high time that he learns to entrust the care of his Boswell to others," the fellow snaps. "You and Jones are more than capable."

Oh dear. He is angry!

Lestrade wraps her arm about me in a manner that could almost be considered protective and says no more. At least she would appear to understand.

When we reach the car park, my friend helps me into the back seat of our car while Watson exchanges sweet nothings with Chelsea and John takes to the driver's seat.

"Look after yourself, OK?" Lestrade requests quietly. "Maybe if you're feeling better next weekend, we can go somewhere, huh? Just you 'n' me, for a change."

I nod and sniff miserably. "I suppose I must become accustomed to not having Watson with me. Again."

"It's not the same though."

"It may well be worse! Mary knew me - she understood - I helped her..."

The inspector sighs and touches my arm. "Chelsea knows she can trust you now. You'll see - it'll be OK. Now, stop getting upset over zed, OK?"

I attempt a smile.

"That's a little better. Now, try not to worry - and remember I'm only a call away."

I nod and quietly thank her, for I must confess that I do feel a little better for her support and kindness. The Yarder then closes the door so that I shan't be quite so cold. I am asleep before Watson gets into the car.

The following week is positively miserable! I spend it curled upon the settee, barely able (let alone permitted) to move, in what Watson would refer to as a black mood. Thus is my reaction to too much adrenalin and too little sleep; I feel too ill to eat, too cold and uncomfortable for sleep and I ache horribly. Were I alone, I could quite probably cry with exhausted frustration but that, of course, is not a thing that I would do with John and Watson to bear witness.

Eventually, I recover enough to sleep and gradually improve. I soon become alert enough to realise that Watson is not about very much, as mealtimes tend to be spent alone with John.

"Chelsea has been rather upset by her ordeal and Watson felt that he should comfort her," the robot explains when I mention it.

Yes, of course. Never mind how I am - I am always fine. "Quite right."

The fellow frowns at me. "Do stop moping and eat something old boy."

"I am not 'moping' John - I am feeling unwell. It may be easier to sleep than it was, but my stomach feels as if it has been shut down; I cannot possibly eat. I do not feel the slightest bit hungry."

"But you must!"

I moan and wave him away. "When I am ready! Please John, just save it for Watson or else give it to Briar. I am still without appetite."

"I'm real sorry to hear that," Lestrade remarks as she enters the sitting room. "I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere for lunch. What d'you say?"

John frowns thoughtfully. "If you both are careful not to become cold or weary, a walk might benefit Holmes; perhaps some exercise and fresh air might be enough to encourage his stomach to function."

He could be right, for exercise does indeed improve a fellow's appetite.

"You better dress warm," the inspector advises me. "I don't want you getting worse."

I take her advice without argument. "Where are we going?" I call through the closed door of the bedroom.

"I haven't decided yet. Just dress against the weather 'n' wear your Inverness, OK? That is your warmest coat, right?"

After much coddling and fussing, I am bundled into Lestrade's car.

"I'd be tempted to take you to the coast, if it wasn't so cold," the Yarder remarks. "You really don't look good and I don't wanna make you worse."

I shrug. "I feel all right - I have always reacted in this way after a long case and I had not had much chance to recover after the case in Canada. I am all right."

"Yeah, well, I'd feel better if you'd take it easy for a while. So... where to?"

"Sussex?"

She frowns at me for a long moment and then nods. "OK Sherlock. Same beach as before?"

"Well, if you would be so good. Perhaps we could have tea in that delightful little shop that we found last time."

"Actually, I might have a better idea, but I guess that all depends. We'll take a walk first anyway."

And so we are soon once more walking together, arm in arm, along the sea front. The weather is indeed cold, but I hardly notice as I am so very well wrapped up. Only my nose, cheeks and ears are feeling the chill overly much.

Beside me, Lestrade gives a sudden sigh, causing a plume of steam to encircle her face for a moment as she gazes out to sea.

"Are you quite well my dear?" I query carefully. I do not actually mean to enquire after her physical condition so much as her emotional state, for she would appear to be somewhat unhappy.

She shrugs. "I was just thinking how lucky Chelsea is. Watson's been with her whenever I've been at work."

I had not realised that the fellow had been absent as much as that, but I have not been quite myself of late. "He has barely spared a thought for me..."

"Yeah he has," the Yarder assures me. "It's just that Chelsea'd be alone if he wasn't there and you've got John to take care o' you."

"An angry compudroid does not make a very amiable or comforting companion," I respond before I can check myself.

She stares at me. "He's still mad at you? Why?"

"Because I never listen," I sniff. "Apparently."

"You scared him I expect," Lestrade responds with a small smile. "He'll get over it - you'll see."

I hope so. He has clearly become terribly angry with me. "Did Chelsea explain what happened? Everything appeared to be going remarkably well between herself and Watson until we went to Canada, so I imagine that something happened in our absence - Fenwick approached her, did he not?"

"Yeah, but the first time he approached her, you and Watson hadn't gone anywhere - that was why she tried to convince him to stay in London. But she wouldn't explain why and you needed him, so off he went."

"Ah."

"It's not your fault Holmes - she was scared and never told anyone anything; you weren't to know. Anyway, then she was approached again - this time it was by Moriarty and at her apartment. She was given some pretty scary threats. At first she was just frightened for herself, but then, when you, John 'n' Watson came home, she was approached while they were out together and this time, they were telling her to do things to hurt Watson. She decided to make him hate her..."

"Why?" I interrupt.

She shakes her head and shrugs expressively. "She didn't know what else to do. I mean, they knew where she l lived and they warned her not to say a word to her colleagues at the Yard or else 'a misfortune' might happen. The threat was as much against any friend or colleague she might talk to as it was against herself and she decided she'd prefer for Watson to hate her but be safe than to love her and be in danger."

I avert my gaze to stare out to sea. My throat is terribly tight and I doubt that I could utter a sound even if I could find the appropriate words to say.

"Are you OK?"

I nod and give a shiver as I bring myself back under control. "Truly, Watson is very fortunate. I do not think that I could ever try to cause the fellow to hate me - not even to save his life."

"You let him think you were dead..."

I slam my eyes shut and nod. "It was the most difficult and painful thing that I have ever done. I could not do that again - certainly not for three years. My... I could not bear it."

"You let John think you were dead."

I nod again. "I did not mean to. Not at first. But it did give me an opportunity to work entirely alone, so as to avoid drawing any attention to myself. And working against the Yard for a change was rather fun."

She glares at me from the corner of her eye. "You're a pest when you want to be."

"I am not! I simply have a somewhat impish sense of humour when the mood takes me."

"That's what I said," she growls.

I shrug and we both stop walking to stand side by side and arm in arm as we watch the sea birds and the boats.

"I've been thinking," she announces suddenly - and somewhat awkwardly. "About... well... About what we were talking about before."

I sniff and turn to meet her gaze. "What were we talking about?" It has been rather a long month and I cannot possibly be expected to remember the subject of idle chat.

"Well, I was thinking about what I want," she says quietly. "I've come to realise that I get lonely sometimes, when I'm at my apartment..."

I shrug my shoulders. "Perhaps you should share with someone. If you find the right person, it can prove to be perfect."

"Domestic bliss."

"Something like that," I reply with a small smile. "I shall miss Watson. He does not realise how good it feels to have him there to come home to. ...Have I said something amusing?"

She shakes her head and smiles at me. "No. It's just that I kinda feel the same way about Chelsea. I've got used to her being there and it's... it feels good to have the company. You know?"

I nod quietly.

"That's all I want really - companionship. Someone to come home to, that'll understand me... take an interest in what I've done and how my day went," she shrugs. "Just someone who cares."

I care. I slip an arm about her. "That is what Watson does - he takes an interest and cares."

She nods quietly. "He'll still be around y'know; it's not like he'll be emigrating to the Moon or anything."

"Yes, I know," I shake my head and pull myself together. "Forgive me. You are quite right."

She gives me another small smile.

"It seems to me that we want much the same things," I muse quietly. "Not so much love as companionship; someone that is prepared to accept us as we are and to take an interest in what we do."

"Yeah, I guess so."

I frown thoughtfully and return my gaze to the sea. "I am not quite sure where we shall find a matching man and woman that are unmarried."

"Huh?"

"Well, as much as I like the Winters family, I could never live with them - nor the Watsons; they are going to be..."

"Holmes," she interrupts, "don't you think we're compatible?"

I grimace. "Well, yes. You know that we are. But we cannot live together."

"Why not?"

I rub my hands together nervously. "Well... We are not married."

"So what? I already said I'm not interested in more than companionship and we've established that you aren't either."

I slam my eyes shut. "It is simply not the correct order of things! It would not be proper."

"OK," her hand squeezes my arm. "So what do you suggest?"

"Well..." I open my eyes and turn to face her. "Beth, with your permission, I should like to court you."

She stares back at me for a long moment and then laughs. "Court me? Haven't we already been doing that, sorta unofficially? I mean, we know each other pretty well already and we go out together to socialise a lot. Most o' New Scotland Yard already think we're an item."

"Then what would you suggest?" I demand to know. Damn the woman! She knows not how much courage it took for me to ask that question. Besides, the half of the Yard that does not believe Lestrade and I to be courting think that Watson and I are!

She shrugs. "We could just skip that and get engaged."

"No we cannot!" I yell back at her.

"Oh," her face falls and she turns away. "You're still dead against marriage, huh?"

Why can she not understand? "Not if it is you that I am marrying, but I cannot become engaged to you like this - this is not how it is done! First, I should take you somewhere... suitable... where the conditions are perfect. Then, at just the right moment, I should go down on one knee - like this - look into your eyes and pull out a ring (which I do not have) and ask you for your hand..."

"You know, for a guy who claims that he has no time for romance, you can be pretty romantic."

I shrug. "I am from an incurably romantic era. Besides, I do believe that such things should be done properly - with planning and effort."

"I guess so."

"Besides, there are things that we do not know about one another," I add. "Do we want the same things? We have never discussed things such as children."

"You want kids?" Lestrade sounds shocked.

I shrug. "Perhaps one day. I must confess that I regretted not having a family, when I found myself old and alone."

"Yeah, maybe. I've gotta admit, I always sorta thought about having kids around when I was younger. I just can't see myself giving up my job, like Debbie Winters has - I like my work too much."

I sniff and give a shiver. "That was what nannies were for, in my era."

"I'm not so sure about that either," my lady friend confesses. "I mean, I think Debs has got the right idea. Your Irregulars are the way they are because they can get away with it - because they either have one-parent families, parents that work long hours or both. If we have kids, one of us'll have to be there for them."

I almost tell her that John, Watson and I manage to be there for Briar, but that is very different. Briar can accompany us on long cases and usually does, needed or not. A baby or small child is a different matter entirely.

"I suppose that you are right."

"You know I am," she retorts. "If we're gonna have kids, we've got a lot of working out to do."

I shrug and smile. "If we are to have children, it will come after we are married; we have plenty of time to discuss it."

She gazes into my eyes. "You're really serious about all this, aren't you?"

Again I shrug. "It is a strange thing to joke about, do you not think?"

"It's just hard to take in. I mean, I never thought of you as the marrying kind."

"Well," I smirk at her from beneath my eyelashes. "Well, perhaps I simply needed to meet the right woman..."

She laughs quietly. "Maybe you're right."

We do not kiss. In my day, such behaviour was considered dreadfully impolite in public and neither of us are that way inclined anyway. We do, however, hold hands as we stroll along the sea front. In fact, we do not release one another's hands until we are back at the car and heading for which ever place it is that Lestrade has chosen to lunch at.