We do not bother driving to the coast. The monorail is much faster and it means that John and Lestrade can both relax. Indeed, we are all very relaxed - Watson and Chelsea are contentedly sitting together in much the same manner as they were when we joined them in Lestrade's apartment and my own lady friend and I are also somewhat preoccupied by our own contentment.

"Where're we going?" Beth asks quietly.

I smile and caress her hand with my thumb. "My favoured haunt, my dear."

She sits up with a start. "We're not heading for Sussex."

"Indeed we are not."

"No? I thought you said we're going to your favourite place. Just how many favourite places have you got?"

How can I explain? "This destination is rather special; it is not a place that I would share with just any friend or colleague."

Lestrade smirks at me. "How many secrets have you got?"

I shrug and look away. "I am a private man."

"Don't worry Sherlock," she squeezes my hand. "I'm not gonna pry - every guy should be allowed his secrets."

"Provided that they are legal," I add with a smirk.

She gives a relieved smile. "Well, yeah. Just so long as they obey the law."

I gaze out of the window to conceal a yawn. I am not going to permit myself to sleep now - this journey is much too short.

"Feeling OK?" the Yarder asks with concern.

I nod and conceal another. "Yes thank you. I am feeling much better."

She studies me carefully but nods. "That's good."

I always have felt drowsy while travelling - well, unless I was working and was far too busy to even think about sleep, of course - it is not unusual for me to be stifling yawns. However, we soon reach the quiet, Victorian seaside town and leave the monorail and its station, taking the short walk in the direction of the beach.

"I can see why you like it here," my lady friend remarks as she links her arm through mine. "It's like another world!"

I pull her in close to me with a cheerful smile. "You have not seen the half of it yet my dear."

Chelsea giggles excitedly. "Yeah, our guys know how to live Inspector."

Lestrade raises an eyebrow at me. "You're full o' surprises, aren't you?"

"I try," I respond with a shrug of my shoulders.

I have always enjoyed surprising those that are dear to me. Why else would I work so hard at my dramatics? Of course, I have gone too far now and then - my return from my hiatus could have done Watson some great harm and I have also sprung surprises on clients that I should not have done. I have learnt from those experiences, however; I am rather more mindful of others these days.

"Are you even listening to me Sherlock?"

I blink and shake my head. "Hum? Oh, forgive me," I respond as I carefully cast my mind back to her words. "A walk?"

"I was asking if you'd ever taken a walk on those cliffs. I bet you'd get quite a view from up there."

I gaze at the cliff at which she is pointing. "Yes. Would you like to go up there?"

"Yeah. If you're feeling fit enough."

These words are merely a red rag to a bull. "Of course I am! Let me just show you where our base camp is and then we shall set off."

"'Base camp'?" she quirks an eyebrow at me. "Strange term, coming from you."

I smirk. "One of Watson's."

"Yeah, I guess that makes more sense. So where are we going?"

Watson, John and I have put a lot of work into our beach hut since it was purchased. The peeling paintwork has been tended, both inside and out, and we have cheerfully decorated its interior with shells and driftwood from the beach. There are also some storm lanterns, as sudden mists and fogs have rolled in from off the sea on occasion.

"Wow!" Beth gasps as we enter and set down our things. "I love it! It's not what I expected, but it's very you."

"Thank you," I respond somewhat shyly. "We have put a lot of work into it."

She nods. "It shows."

"Would you like a cup of tea?" John asks as we (that is, those of us that have remembered or bothered to bring one) remove our coats.

Briar immediately holds up a paw and tilts his head to one side.

"Holmes, you have quite spoilt our dog," the robot informs me.

Briar turns his pleading eyes to me.

"Oh John! Just give him some. He was very good on the monorail, after all."

The fellow shakes his head and turns to Lestrade. "Should you ever have children, see that you discipline them," he advises her.

"I shall have you know that I am very firm with Briar," I speak up. "I simply fail to see why he cannot have some tea if he wants it. As long as he has behaved himself, naturally."

John has clearly mouthed something behind my back, because Beth laughs and Chelsea dissolves into a fit of giggles. Hum!

"Beth, would you prefer to walk now, or after we have had a cup of tea?" I ask somewhat abruptly.

She smirks at me. "Let's have some tea first. Then we can go take our walk."

The walk is somewhat tiring; I had thought that I had recovered more than this. It matters not, for I shall rest later, but I am somewhat surprised.

Beth smiles at me as we slowly amble along. Frequently we stop, admiring the view and listening to the birds that I remember from my youth. Not once does that smile leave her face.

"This place is wonderful Sherlock," she whispers as her hand finds mine. "Thanks for bringing me here."

I squeeze her hand gently. "My pleasure. Oh! Look Beth!" I point with my free hand to a little bird, which is singing at the top of its lungs while it flies high above us. It is almost too small and far off to see.

She shades her eyes with her hand and squints up at it. "What is it?"

"A skylark," I inform her. "They are quite remarkable; most birds sing like that while they are at rest, but those little birds only sing while they are in flight. Just think what stamina something so small would need - it would be like singing an opera whilst running."

She nods and draws closer to me. "That is impressive."

The two of us stand watching the bird until it changes its song and goes to ground. As we lose sight of it, so its song ceases altogether.

"Wow," my lady friend breathes. "I would've completely missed that if you hadn't pointed it out."

I shrug and avert my gaze. "I used to see a lot of them when I was young. Particularly when I was out on horseback."

"Is it hard? You know, horse riding."

"Not overly difficult; not if one is calm and gentle - as long as the mount is patient and friendly, of course," I study her from the corner of my eye. "Why do you ask?"

"Zed Sherlock! Don't pretend it's not obvious."

I give a hearty laugh. "I must confess that I miss the horses; I have always enjoyed working with animals."

"So I gathered. You almost work as well with Briar as you do with Watson and John."

"Hum!" I chuckle. "Briar cannot answer back, so I prefer him to our colleagues at the Yard."

She wrinkles her nose. "At least you don't have to work with the zed heads every day."

"Hum, touché Lestrade. There you have my utmost sympathy."

"Thanks Sherlock."

What is the matter? "Did you have an unpleasant shift?"

She shrugs and sniffs. "No worse than usual."

"What you need is a holiday my dear."

She snorts. "Like Grayson'll give me one."

Poor Beth! "Is there anything that I can do to help?"

"Yes!" she turns to poke me in the chest. "Rest up 'n' let yourself get better. No, don't laugh - I'm serious! You don't know how much of a weight off my mind that'd be."

"All right! Really Beth..."

"Really Holmes, you need sleep. OK?"

I nod and give a weary sigh. "Of course Nanny. Anything you say."

She wrinkles her nose again and glares at me from the corner of her eye. "Less o' the zedding lip, OK? Zed! Can't a girl worry about her boyfriend without getting hassle for it?"

"My apologies." But I am not very sorry. The truth be told, I rather like her annoyed expressions - they are terribly amusing!

I slip my arm about the Yarder and squeeze her close to me as we walk on. I am extremely happy and content - possibly more so than I have ever been. I never knew that a woman's presence could ever feel like this and now I understand Watson's desire to find an appropriate match for himself. I hope that Chelsea makes the old fellow feel like this.

When we reach the end of the cliff that juts out over the sea, Lestrade and I stand arm in arm, enjoying the view. There is a mist rolling in and its chilling tendrils surround us.

"Impressive isn't it?" she murmurs softly as she rubs at her bare arms.

"Indeed it is," I agree. "But you are cold my dear! Here, draw close to me."

Without even thinking about my actions, I pull her in close to me and enfold her in my cape. Oh! Yes, indeed she is cold! Her arms and hands are positively freezing and I can feel them chilling the fabric of my clothes as she embraces me beneath my Inverness. Her hands are shaking as well.

"You are cold!" I note with a grimace. "Why did you not say? We could have gone back had you wished it."

"I didn't want to go back," she responds with a shrug. "I've enjoyed myself."

And then she is gazing at me in a peculiar way and now my hands are shaking for a very different reason. I have never felt so nervous!

"Hey," Beth squeezes me, drawing closer still to me. "It's OK. It's only me Sherlock; I won't hurt you."

And then her lips find mine, as the mist encircles and surrounds us, obscuring us from the rest of the world. I know not what to do, but I would seem to be responding instinctively, for I have never kissed anyone like this before. It is both exhilarating and terrifying!

"I love you," she whispers as she rests her head at my shoulder, our lips having parted at last. "I never knew I could feel like this. I wish we could just stay here forever."

I am beginning to want to get back, myself; I do not like the way that our actions can so quickly progress while we are alone. I am beginning to understand John's disapproval of earlier, even if it was rather an overreaction at the time.

"What's wrong Sherlock?"

I sniff and grimace. "We should get back before we catch cold."

"Yeah," she nods and slowly releases me. "I guess you're right."

She knows that I am! I shrug off my Inverness and drape it about her shoulders.

"Zed Sherlock! You need this more than I do - you're tired. You'll get sick."

She is freezing cold and has no sleeves! Besides, it is only right that she should take priority. "I shall be all right Beth. It is not a long walk back."

She shakes her head with a sigh and draws close to me, wrapping her arm about me. "If you get too cold, say so."

"Of course," I lie.

We have almost reached the path that will take us back to the beach when I point out another skylark. Lestrade is just responding with words of appreciation when she gasps and points.

"Oh Holmes! Look!"

Right behind the bird is a rather menacing-looking hawk.

I laugh and rub my icy hands together with excitement. "We are going to have some entertainment now! Keep watching."

"I know hawks have to eat Sherlock, but that lark... Well, there are plenty o' pests that it could hunt instead."

I squeeze her arm. "Just keep watching. Remember what I said earlier about stamina? You will notice that that little bird is still singing loudly, despite having to fly as fast as it can. Does that tell you nothing? It should come as a warning to that bigger, heavier hawk - it may have a good burst of speed for a short while, but it cannot afford to keep it up for long. The lark however... well, you can hear it for yourself - it is still singing and seems not in the least tired. There we are! The hawk has had enough now; he shall find an easier target."

My lady friend gives a quiet sigh of relief. "Thank zed for that! That was... Wait! How the zed did you know that'd happen?"

"I have seen it before," I respond with a small smile. "A lark is hard for a hunter to resist - they are strong, healthy; they might come with a cost to the hawk, but the meal would be worth the price. Or so it would seem at first," I shrug my shoulders. "I have never seen a hawk catch a lark, but I have seen many try it. I do believe that a stubborn one would pay the ultimate price."

Lestrade gives a shiver. "Nature's cruel."

"Yes. Life is not fair my dear; it never has been."

"Let's get back," she suddenly begs of me as she steps awkwardly from one foot to the other.

Ah! Yes, the inspector is chilled and did not think to visit the washroom before leaving the house, as I did. I expect that she has indeed become rather uncomfortable.

I slip an arm about her without a word and guide her in the direction of the strange, wetroom boxes that are along the path from the beach huts.

"Where're we going?" Beth asks suddenly. "I really wanna hurry back Sherlock. I'm just about bursting for a pee."

I grimace. "Your body language made that quite clear. Fear not, this detour is for exactly that reason."

"Oh. Oh good. Sorry Holmes. It's just that..."

I nod and squeeze her shoulder. "There is no need for you to explain my dear." Goodness knows, I have felt like that often enough!

When we reach the horrid boxes, Lestrade takes to one and I step inside an adjacent one, for I would rather not have to step out into the cold again soon after returning from it, even if I do not currently feel a very strong desire to pay a visit.

The walk back does not take us very long. We are met by John and Briar when we reach the seafront and the four of us walk back to our little beach hut together.

"Your surface temperature is very low Holmes," the compudroid notes with concern. "I imagine you would like a nice, warming cup of tea."

If Heaven came in a cup, it would be a hot cup of tea. "Yes please John. A cup of your tea would be wonderful."

"Yes, I expect that it would Holmes. Are you feeling well?"

I nod and address him with a bright smile.

"If you are sure," he responds with a tone and expression that speak of frequent check-ups later.

I am surprised to find that Chelsea and Watson seem to find it much easier to behave themselves while they are alone than I have of late - and also somewhat disheartened. I must discuss this with Beth at some point, if I can only find the words.

"You are both cold!" Watson notes with dismay as Lestrade and I sit down close to the little stove. "Let me find some rugs. Here we are; wrap these about you. Oh! Bless you Holmes. Don't look at me like that - I know what I saw. And bless you again."

I sniff miserably and pull my rug closer to me. I am freezing!

"I did tell you not to give me your cape," Beth reminds me.

Surprisingly, John rounds on her. "Never mind blaming Holmes! You should learn to bring a coat with you - at least Holmes' outfit has sleeves."

I smirk at her from the corner of my eye.

"You can zedding can it Holmes."

Charming. I hunch my shoulders and attempt to draw closer to the stove with a poorly-suppressed shiver.

"Zed! I hope you aren't getting sick. Are you OK?"

I shrug. "I am tired, that is all. I am not feeling unwell."

She nods and studies my face with care. "That's good. I don't like it when you're sick."

"Neither do I. It is dull."

"Yeah, well, I don't like watching you suffer. Y'know?"

Yes actually.

"Did you have a nice walk?" Chelsea enquires, changing the subject. "Where'd you go?"

Beth and I tell of the walk along the clifftop, including the sightings of the skylarks and the hawk. Chelsea would appear to spellbound.

"I've never been up there," the young woman says. "When John took me here, it'd been raining and the path was all muddy."

Watson shakes his head. "Holmes and I have only been up there once," he tells her. "We usually walk Briar on the beach or amongst the dunes. And when we did, it was in the winter and there were only gulls and corvids in evidence." The fellow sounds a little jealous.

"You and Chelsea have both brought coats; why do you not go and see if you can spot one?" I suggest a little snappily.

"I think perhaps we will, before the mist becomes thick enough to send them to ground," the fellow agrees. "Would you like that my dear?"

John waits until my Boswell has left with his young lady before demanding to know what my snappy behaviour was in aid of. I am not quite sure how I should answer him; I am tired and cold, but that does not usually cause me to speak to dear old Watson in such a manner. What is wrong with me?

It takes me a moment or two to realise that I want to be alone with Lestrade and that I am both frustrated and unnerved. I am a gentleman! I should be glad that we are not alone, under the circumstances. I shall have to discuss this with Watson this evening, if I can pluck up the courage.

John shakes his head. "I have never before seen you in such a peculiar mood."

I shrug and sniff. "My apologies old chap; I am not myself today." Perhaps I shall feel differently once I grow accustomed to being loved... This is all very new to me after all.

Lestrade pulls me into the little conservatory settee in the corner and we curl up together, sharing our rugs.

"OK?" she asks as she rests her head at my shoulder.

I nod with a quiet sniff. "Yes thank you. Are you feeling warmer now?"

"Yeah. Thanks for giving me your cape; it was kind of you. I know you hate being cold."

I smile and draw closer to her. "I could not let you suffer like that. You were freezing!"

John tuts quietly and sets down two cups of tea on the coffee table before us. "When you lovebirds have quite finished, I have made you each a hot drink."

We thank him and enjoy our tea in a companiable silence while Briar jumps up and makes a space for himself between us.

"Have you got any biscuits?" Beth asks of our robotic friend.

"Yes actually," he responds cheerfully as he opens a tin and sets it down upon the table.

Lestrade takes one and dips it into her tea, causing me to inwardly cringe ever so slightly. That was not considered to be good manners in my era. She then eats the soggy half of the biscuit, dips the remaining half into her cup and presents that to the dog.

"I made those for Holmes, Watson and their guests," the compudroid huffs, folding his arms. "They are not intended for canine consumption."

Briar whines very quietly and Beth pets him. "He's a good dog John; I don't see why you have to be mean to him."

"Humph! I am not being 'mean'."

I smirk at him. "John is jealous."

"Really Holmes!"

I was only joking, but I cannot help but wonder whether there might be some truth in what I say. John does appear to be feeling threatened and insecure of late.

When Watson and Chelsea return, we pack up, shut up and lock the beach hut and make our way to a little restaurant that is very close to the monorail station for our dinner. The street lamps have all been lit by now and the fog is giving each light a halo that shimmers and shifts as the tendrils and swirls move in the cold evening air.

By the time we reach the restaurant, our clothes and hair are as damp as the night and we are quite chilled. I am going to want a brandy before I even think of food.

The restaurant is warm, pleasant and comfortable. It is rather like the country inn that Lestrade dragged me off to for lunch, but it lacks the clutter. I feel rather more comfortable here.

A double brandy later, I am feeling much better. My nose has ceased to bother me and the chills have been banished from my bones. I hum quietly to myself as I browse the menu. I am not in the mood for fish and am pleasantly surprised to find that this fine establishment has game on the menu. I shall have duck I think.

"Hum, Dover sole for me I think," Watson decides as he strokes his moustache. "With the seafood salad starter."

"I shall have a dish of oysters for my starter," I announce (I have never been able to resist those). "Followed by the roast duck. Well ladies? What would you like?"

Lestrade shrugs. "I don't know what I want. I'm not crazy about seafood and I've never tried duck. What're you having Chelsea?"

"I think I'll have one o' homemade burgers. The minted lamb one, maybe."

Ugh!

"Well, I think I'll have..." Lestrade smiles. "I'll have a curry. And for a starter, I'll have some breaded mushrooms."

"And I'll have garlic bread," Chelsea adds.

"I shall put the order in, shall I?" John volunteers.

I shake my head and grasp his arm. "No, a waiter shall take our order in a moment. Stay seated."

The fellow settles quietly and the five of us begin to chat quietly. Chelsea wishes to hear of some of the adventures that Watson and I have shared together and we both suggest that our robotic friend entertain us with a take or two, explaining that he knows the events better than either of us can probably remember them after all this time.

Our storyteller soon settles into his role and tells of a case that does not tend to be dramatised. He does indeed remember the case better than I do and I listen quietly, allowing him to refresh my memory, as we eat.

After dinner we return to the monorail for our journey back to London. I am tired but full, content and among good friends. I can even see that Chelsea is becoming friendlier toward John - perhaps this is due to his pleasing tales over dinner - and that does make me feel a little happier in her company in turn.

When we reach New London, we see Lestrade and Chelsea into a taxi and then John, Watson and I take the next one that comes. For the first time since my Boswell started walking out with his young lady, I am feeling excited and looking forward to the future as opposed to dreading what is surely to come.

I am never going to be truly alone again.