I have not lunched at an inn for... well, a considerably long time. Lestrade assures me that I am going to be pleasantly surprised, but I am currently unconvinced. We sit together in the snug, close to the open fire, and I gaze about me at the furnishings. Were it not for the 19th Century paraphernalia adorning the walls, window sills and ceiling, this could easily be an inn of my own era - no inn of my own era would keep a chamber pot anywhere apart from under a bed, out of sight, after all.

"I can recommend the soup o' the day, if you want something light 'n' easy to eat," the Yarder says quietly. "You sure don't look all that good."

"Thank you my dear," I retort with a smirk. "I am sure that that is a lovely compliment to give to one's love interest."

She grimaces. "It wasn't meant as a compliment! I'm worried about you. It's warm in here, but you're shivering and hunching yourself up. Zed! Yeah, and sneezing."

"I am still tired - this is what I am like when I am weary. Do not fret."

"I fret 'cause I care, OK? I can't just stop caring about you - I never could."

She speaks the truth and I know it well enough. "My apologies."

She touches my hand and then squeezes it. "Seriously, have some soup - your hands're like ice and you're real pale. It'll do you good. I promise."

"I do not much like soup," I inform her somewhat grumpily. I most certainly do not like the sort of soups that are served in country inns - rabbit stew is not an appetising meal!

"You'll like this. Go on."

I groan and shrug with my hands in weary defeat. "Anything for a quiet life."

She frowns at me with sincere concern and then goes to make an order at the bar, leaving me hunched miserably in my seat. She is quite right - I am not feeling myself; I simply do not wish to admit as much to her and ruin our little outing together.

Lestrade proves to be correct in regard to the soup. Today's is a seafood dish - a special recipe of the chef's (not the landlord's, as would have been the case in my own era) - and I am indeed pleasantly surprised. It is delicious! I manage to eat about a third of the dish before my fatigue curtails my appetite.

"Don't you want it?" my lady friend enquires. "Isn't it good?"

I nod and try not to yawn. "It is delicious! I am simply too weary."

She nods as her eyes study me closely. "You're getting sick. I shouldn't have taken you out with me today."

"I feel all right."

"Don't lie to me Sherlock - your eyes say it all; you're sick and you need rest. Let me settle the tab 'n' I'll take you home."

I feel guilty for leaving so much, but I cannot eat another bite. I must confess that I do not feel well - I simply am not compelled to do so out loud, in front of Lestrade.

Once we are outside, I attempt to assure my lady friend that I have perked up, for I do not wish to end our outing just yet. I want to hold her hand again and perhaps to share yet another new experience with her. I feel as if it might all be over if I go home now.

"You need rest," she repeats. "I'm worried you might collapse if I drag you around Sussex with me."

"I am not about to collapse!"

The Yarder knows me far too well - and just what to say. "I think any other guy would've collapsed already," she remarks quietly. "It's a good thing you're pretty tough."

Flattery or not, her words successfully disarm me and I relax.

"Come on, let's get you home and put to bed," Lestrade says as she pulls me in close to her. "I know you - you'll soon be on your feet again if you'll just give yourself a chance to get better. Even your worst colds don't usually take you more than three days to shake off; you just need to admit you're sick and give yourself those three days."

"I have not got a cold! I am only overly tired."

She smirks at me. "So you definitely need rest then."

Damn! I most certainly walked headlong into that.

We return to discover that John is out walking Briar. That would seem to suit Lestrade, for she sits down with me (having swathed me in thick rugs and lit the fire) and begins to discuss the new boundaries of our relationship while she warms my hands in hers.

"I rather like holding hands," I confess quietly. All the same, it is not exactly special treatment that I am giving to her, for I am inclined to hold (or at the very least squeeze) Watson's hand when the fellow requires comfort or reassurance.

She nods. "I like it too. So... What else are you comfortable with?"

I am not comfortable with the way that I currently feel! I am quite sure that I never would have been tempted to behave like a cad in my own era, yet the temptation is present now. How can I possibly warn her? What can I do about it? I cannot talk to John about it - he would not understand - and Watson would more than likely consider it to be normal. Well, normal for any normal man, anyway.

"How about this?" she asks as she sits beside me and wraps an arm about me. "I can see you're cold; it might help."

With that, she is offering me what can only be described as a cuddle, pulling me close and advising me to rest my head upon her shoulder. This feels good and I confess as much. I then pull away to sneeze.

"You really should not keep doing that," John informs me as he enters the sitting room. "You could easily give yourself a nosebleed, silencing your sneezes like that. While we are in the house, you can make as much noise as you wish."

"Th-thahh... Ah-ashoo! That would completely decimate my 'stifled sneeze' rule."

Lestrade smirks at me. "It wasn't a great rule anyway."

"Bless you Holmes. No, it certainly was not."

I groan and huddle up in the rugs with a shiver, feeling rather sorry for myself. I feel that it is a very good rule, for it gives me room for argument when my companions fret overly much.

"Feeling bad?" the Yarder asks gently as she rubs small circles at my back.

"I am tired," I confess as I rest my heavy head at her shoulder.

I feel her rest her head at my temple in turn. "Well sleep then. It's OK, I'll still be here when you wake up; it's not like I can't trust Watson and Chelsea alone together."

I agree quietly and close my eyes, feeling very safe and secure in her embrace. This is probably due to receiving care from her before Watson was restored to life, but it still seems strange to me that I can feel like this in a woman's presence.

I know not for how long I have slept, but I awake feeling much better. My mind is clearer, my body is no longer aching and the chilly feeling has vanished as well. There! I knew that I had nothing wrong with me that sleep would not put right. I smile to myself and move closer to the slumbering woman at my side. This is good; I can see why a fellow might wish to awake beside a woman that loves him.

It occurs to me that John is watching me from his armchair. Well, what difference should that make? I am not doing anything wrong. I address him with a sleepy smile and continue to cuddle with my young lady friend.

"Feeling better?" Lestrade's voice asks of me in a quiet, drowsy tone.

I give a slight start. "Yes thank you. Did I disturb you?"

I feel her shrug. "I wasn't really asleep; I was just resting. There's something relaxing about just staying still with you."

I know exactly what she means. I have always felt that there is nothing that I could enjoy more than simply spending a quiet evening alone with Watson, listening to music on the gramophone - music player - or reading or playing my violin. Soon, those quiet evenings will be spent with her.

"Do you not think that you are perhaps not behaving as a gentleman should, Holmes?" John enquires, interpreting my thoughts.

"Hum? Oh. Did you wish to get up, Beth?"

She shakes her head and wraps her arms gently about my waist. "I'm OK if you are."

To be truthful I should quite like to visit the washroom, but I am not in a hurry to leave my lady friend's soothing embrace. I shall wait until the feeling becomes impossible to ignore.

It occurs to me that John is watching us with an expression of disapproval. What does he think that we are going to do? I am not a cad! But then again, we have not told him our news yet.

"I shall make a pot of tea," the robot announces as he stands, his tone informing me that he hopes that he can trust us to behave ourselves.

I smile and nod. "Thank you John."

"Are we gonna tell him or keep it secret?" Lestrade asks quietly, once he is out of our earshot.

I shrug. "I think I should prefer to tell him and Watson at the same time. They are both rather inclined to chat."

"OK. That's fine with me."

And so we have a cup of tea and then Lestrade insists that John and I invade her apartment. It had not occurred to me that she might be in such a hurry. After all, we are only courting!

"Well, just let me freshen up before we get in the car," I request, miming washing my face. "I still feel somewhat sleepy."

"OK. Just hurry it up," she responds, folding her arms and tapping her foot. Really! Anyone would think that I spend every waking moment washing myself!

When we arrive at Lestrade's apartment, we find Watson and Chelsea sitting together holding hands while her head rests at his shoulder. Both look somewhat embarrassed when we enter the sitting area, but neither one is uncomfortable enough to move.

Beth and I each take to a chair and my lady friend drags hers to my side.

"What is going on?" Watson asks cautiously, as his eyes flick from one of us to the other.

I smile, being careful not to look at Lestrade or touch her, tempting though it is, for that would undoubtedly tell them everything. Instead I clear my throat and squirm in my seat somewhat nervously. "I - we - have some news to share. Lest - Beth - and I are courting."

Watson stares at us in shocked silence and I am glad that he is sitting down, for I have seen that look on his face only once before. However, he would seem to be all right, albeit a little pale.

I am just thinking how glad I am that my companion has not reacted as he did upon my dramatic return from the dead, when the fellow slumps in his chair and there is a crash to my left, where our robotic friend was standing moments ago. It would appear that both Watsons have simultaneously fainted.

"John!" my Boswell's young lady frantically fans his face with what I would take to be her magazine. "John? Are you OK?"

"I'll go get him some water," Beth volunteers. "Holmes, you'd better check on John. I don't think robots are meant to faint."

I know not how one should tend to a compudroid that has fainted. I can hardly give him something to drink. All the same, I kneel at his side and speak to him gently. I then try his reset button and listen with relief to the sound of his processors working.

"Are you all right old fellow?" I ask of him quietly as he sits up.

He nods and addresses me with a sheepish smile. "Yes Holmes. I am sorry. I did not know that a robot could faint."

"Quite all right," I assure him gently. "Are you hurt? Have you done yourself any damage?"

He shakes his head and stands gingerly. "I am all right Holmes. Thank you for your concern."

I merely pat his shoulder and address him with a small smile. I am glad that he has not come to any harm.

"I could hardly take in your news," the robot tells me. "You and Lestrade? Is it true?"

I chuckle. "Yes, it is true. Beth and I are courting now."

He nods slowly. "I am still finding that difficult to comprehend."

"Well, I would be grateful if you would not faint again. Are you sure that you are all right?"

"Yes Holmes, I am fine. Thank you. I did not know that you cared so much."

My happy mood is dampened somewhat by those words. "Of course I do! You are one of my dearest friends! How could you even think that?"

The fellow shrugs and looks away.

Poor John! Have I truly given him reason to feel neglected or forgotten? If I have, it is not surprising that he has been so short with me of late.

"My apologies old fellow. I did not intend to take you for granted, but I suppose that I have been. I am terribly sorry."

He smiles and pats my shoulder. "Quite all right Holmes."

It is nothing of the sort, but I am not about to argue. I shall be more mindful of my robotic friend's feelings from now on, however, for he is incredibly sensitive.

I return to my seat, urging John to pull up a chair beside me, and discover that Watson has also recovered from his shock. Unlike our robotic friend, however, he is in much better spirits. Apparently, he has been hoping that we might 'come to our senses' and 'admit that we are in love' for the last three years.

Lestrade smirks at me. "It had to happen sooner or later."

Why do I get the feeling that I have been manipulated into courting this Yarder? I suppose that it matters not, however; we are both quite lonely people and Watson and Chelsea are not going to be on hand for very much longer. Besides, we already know that we are compatible. All the same, it is somewhat disconcerting to realise that I am still far from immune to the charms of a clever woman.

"So... How about a double date?" Chelsea suggests suddenly, squeezing Watson's arm. "I'll feel a lot safer going out if there's four of us."

Beth frowns thoughtfully. "I don't know Chelsea. Holmes has been pretty sick and you haven't been too good yourself."

"I am all right," I assure her. "All that I require is an early night."

"Then see that you get one," she retorts.

John nods and wags his finger at me. "You are not going to stay up into the early hours tonight Holmes. If even you are admitting that you require sleep, you must still be feeling quite dreadful."

This is why one should never work with friends and family. It is impossible to hide anything!

"What if we go somewhere now?" Chelsea suggests. "I need to get out for a while."

I rub at my chin thoughtfully. "What about John? I fear we have all rather neglected him of late."

"He's a robot!"

I frown at the woman before me. "The fellow still has feelings and deserves respect and consideration at the very least."

Lestrade nods and addresses the compudroid with a warm smile. "He's a good friend to have Chelsea - I'd be nice to him if I were you."

"I could hardly accompany you," John shakes his head. "I would be in the way."

I pat the fellow's arm. "That rather depends upon where we go. We could always go to the coast..."

He frowns at me, clearly trying to determine whether or not I am well enough.

"John!" I slam my eyes shut and drum my fingers upon the arm of my chair. "I am quite all right. Besides, it would be rather less boring for you - you could give Briar a run while we eat."

Chelsea grimaces. "It sounds like a weird sort o' date."

I shrug expressively. "I am unique - one must take me as I am."

Watson gives her a small, apologetic smile. "Holmes is not inclined towards romance," he explains quietly.

Ha! How little he knows!

Chelsea sighs and nods. "OK, the beach it is."

The fresh air can only do the girl good. Lestrade is quite right in her observation - Chelsea does not look well. I suspect that the recent events have begun to affect her now that she is safe, for we human brings often do react in such a manner for some reason. Perhaps a change of surroundings will benefit her as well.

John assists Lestrade in packing a picnic basket with snacks while Watson and I quietly discuss our destination. I am rather hurt to learn that Chelsea has already visited our beach hut, while I felt that it would not be right to take Lestrade there. Well, I suppose that we had might as well all go there then. I have wanted to show my lady friend my favoured retreat anyway.