During JUST

by 'Ah, Russell, what is to become of me?'

After our return from France, Holmes and I were both exhausted. We had been working almost non-stop for months. The work had been exhausting emotionally as well and there had been little time for us to devote exclusively to one another. Indeed, it was on our first night home from the case in Devon that Ali had fallen quite literally through our door and necessitated our current case. Holmes had decided we needed a short break and I had readily agreed. I left the arrangements to him while I went to my flat for clothes and such. The few items I had taken to France were in need of laundering and not all were even suited to Mary Russell, whose tastes in clothing are not to be confused with the various personas assumed on a case. We met back at Mycroft's and set off for I knew not where. I really had not given the location much thought. I was so used by that point to being on the move that I would have been satisfied with a bolt hole.

He did not choose a bolt hole for our two day break.

I knew Holmes was up to something by the glint in his eye when we met at Mycroft's.

"What sort of tricks have you up that sleeve of yours?" I asked.

"Nothing you cannot wait to find out about." He responded. I took him at his word and neither did I question the parcels under his arm or the sleek saloon car waiting for us. I simply settled into it and leaned into him. I had a surprise of my own.

We pulled up to Claridge's, that old and venerable scion of elegance, and were met by a footman. Inside, we were greeted by a man who looked to be a cross between a butler of the old style and a government agent. I had to wonder if he was not both. He greeted us by name and introduced himself as Mr. Hunt. Mr. Hunt gestured for us to follow him to the bank of lifts next to the grandiose and very Victorian, lobby. We were directed to a lift at the far end that was opened with a key. Again, once inside there was a keyed access to start the lift in motion. We rose a long way up and stopped. The door opened onto a lovely hallway lined with potted plants and roofed in glass. At the end of the hallway was an ornate oaken door which Mr. Hunt opened. It revealed a flat of extraordinary opulence. It was all carved woods and had a bank of windows across the front of the sitting room. There was a dining room and a kitchen. The bedroom led directly off of the main sitting room and had a bed the size of the one at my flat, only much more tasteful.

I let Holmes handle any arrangements to be made with Mr. Hunt in the outer room and threw myself across the magnificent bed. It was soft and lovely. The bed in our Paris hotel had been a bit on the hard and overused side. Although the hotel had been an expensive one, it served tourists and had not seen a recent renovation. And even compared to the beds at Justice Hall, which were nice, this had a different feel entirely. I reflected that most likely this was due to the fact that there was no one I had to watch and nothing I had to learn in the next 48 hours.

I was looking about and taking in some things I had not noticed in my initial rush to the bed, when Holmes came in and laughed at me. "Really, wife, what are you doing there posed across the bed?"

"Hmm. Luxuriating in its vastness I suppose. Why? What did you think?" I cocked an eyebrow at him. He feigned not hearing the latter part of my comment and replied,

"I am glad you like the room."

"It's hardly a room, Holmes. It is a lovely flat. How ever did you get it on such short notice?"

We both answered my query at the same time, "Mycroft." I laughed. "Well, bless your brother, then. I really appreciate a bit of time with nothing to do and in such pleasant surroundings. It is a nice surprise."

"Nothing to do? Pity," Holmes replied, and it was his turn to cock an eyebrow. He sat down on the bed and I rolled into him and pulled him down. I soon had him by the lapels. He could not move or I would tighten my hold on his collar. And as I felt him relax beneath me, I kissed him hard and aggressively. His lovely, sensitive hands reached up and loosened my hair.

During the last weeks we had been good partners and friends but little else. When working, we tended to fall into a sort of intimate business relationship. We kissed goodnight but that was usually all. It was high time we re-established ourselves in the other areas of our partnership.

Later, we lay comfortably in one another's arms and talked of nothing whatever having to do with our current case: It was bliss. Finally, the inevitable happened; my stomach growled. He laughed and said, "Not to worry, ravenous one, I will order dinner up, but first you have to open something."

"What do you mean?"

"I've brought you something and I assure you it is not a set of picklocks."

"Oh," my voice was muffled as I spoke into his chest, where my check was resting, "how lovely."

He got up and I watched him cross the room. Soon, a wrapped package was thrown across the bed. I looked up and noticed him watching me. His eyes were soft and he let me hold their gaze a moment. My own eyes must have betrayed a great deal because he broke off and said, "Go ahead and open it or we shan't eat soon." I opened the wrapping and pulled out a lovely, silk dressing gown. It was a feminine version of the ones he favoured and in much better condition than the one I was fond of borrowing. It was a beautiful sky blue and its sleeves ended in just a touch of lace. Other than that, it was every bit the same as his. At the bottom of the package was a pair of carpet slippers, also feminine versions of his, and accented in the same lovely blue silk.

"Ah, Holmes, Thank you. I shall no doubt wear them both to death as I have yours. Where did you get them?"

"Your elves made them." I was stunned by the thought that he had bothered to visit my elves and have something so handsome made for me. I looked up at him and watched him watching me and decided to bite back from my lips what I was thinking; no questions need be asked here. The gift and the gesture were lovely, if unusual. I decided to simply enjoy the moment and not question the motives of this man I could never completely understand. And then he completely surprised me.

"Good. Now open this too."

"What?! Something else? Really, husband it is unlike you." He was pulling on his own worn robe as I spoke and then sat on the edge of the bed and said,

"True, and I have been thinking of late that I should work a little harder at conventional ways of showing you... that... I love you." He smiled a smile I thought was meant just for him alone and said, "A token. I want to spoil my wife. I admit it."

"Now you are worrying me a bit, Holmes. Are you quite certain you are feeling well?" He reached out and cupped my face in his hand and said,

"You know, some wives expect such things from their husbands, and no, I do not have to be ill or trying to coax you into something in order to give you gifts. If you must know, this one has a selfish component anyway,"

"Umm; that is better then," I grinned, "but anyhow I will gladly accept as long as you know I do not require tokens. You are enough for me." He looked at me, let his hand slide over my face and said,

"I know. Just allow me the pleasure. I am quite certain I will come to my senses soon enough."

I opened the small parcel, which was wrapped in plain brown paper, and found in it a wooden box. Inside, nestled within a pile of red velvet lining, lay a double strand of perfect pearls; in the middle of the pearls, was a pendant of sapphires surrounded by and accented with diamonds. They were on a choker and looked Victorian. I stared at them, knowing where they must be from. I had seen them before. Violet Holmes wore them in the portrait above the drawing room fireplace in Kent.

"Holmes, these were your mother's. I remember seeing them on her portrait. They are beautiful."

"Yes. My mother wore them often. I always loved the way they looked against her throat. I wanted to see them on you."

"Ah, then you shall." I turned to lift my hair and let him fasten the lovely thing to my neck. I reached forward and said, "I hope your mother was always more appropriately clothed when she wore them."

"Goodness, Russ! What a thought! I must say though, they look just fine on you even without the accompanying clothes. Better, perhaps."

I laughed and kissed him. If it weren't for my blasted growling stomach, we would have never would have made it back out of the bedroom. As it was, I put on the lovely dressing gown and slippers, and still clad in little else but pearls, followed him into our temporary home's sitting room.

Mr. Hunt appeared on cue with a well prepared meal accompanied by several sophisticated and unusual wines. I felt a little self-conscious clad so in front of a strange servant and began to put up my hair. Holmes eyed me and said, "Really dearest, you needn't worry. By all means, leave your hair down. Mr. Hunt is very discreet. After all, he was chief of staff to our late king and his mistress."

"Oh." I took note of the endearment and the reference to scandal and decided I should tuck the former away somewhere to pull out of my memory when he was his usual peevish self. The latter I decided was not meant to be an offensive reference; after all, I was his wife. I took a sip of the wine and answered after a moment, "I surmised he had some sort of important role. Does he now work for Mycroft?"

"In a sense; this suite is normally occupied by heads of state that are not trustworthy enough to stay at the royal residence or closer to Downing Street. Mr. Hunt sees to all their needs and he listens."

Later, we fell into a blessed sleep in one another's arms. The next morning I was wakened by Holmes moving about the rooms. He was not dressed, but had clearly been up for some time. I was not surprised. He was incapable of sleeping like I could. I thought he must be getting impatient for me to wake and said so,

"Would you like me to join the living?"

"Oh, sorry, I really did not mean to wake you."

"That's fine. I hate to miss any of this time we have."

That said, he came to the bed and took me in his arms. I noticed he had shaved and put on only his dressing gown. I smiled to myself: He most definitely was on holiday. A few minutes later he looked down at me and said, "Do you want some coffee?"

"Yes. But not yet." I stretched my arms out to him, "You know, I could get used to a life like this. Why don't we both just retire from our active life and live this way all the time?"

He smiled and I could tell he had been thinking along the same lines, "Because we'd go mad and kill one another if this was all we ever did. We are both made for action. That is what makes this time the sweeter."

I drank some coffee and invited Holmes to share the bath with me. It had obviously been made to hold two so I hated to pass up the chance. He readily agreed and while we were drowsing in the water I told him, "You know, I have a bit of a surprise for you."

"What? You do not have to reciprocate in kind you know."

"Oh, I know, but this is something I have been working on for some time and I thought now would be a good opportunity to present it to you."

"You have piqued my interest, Russ. What could you possibly be working on for any length of time without me noticing? I really must be getting old." He lifted an eyebrow at me in jest but I could tell from his tone that the thought was a disturbing one.

"No, just busy, and you forget that I am often away for a week or more at a time." I was deliberately leading him and wondering if I could get away with it.

"No, I don't ever forget that. I feel your absences you know."

It was quite an admission for him. But I understood that part of this special time together was what allowed him to show more of himself to me. It had been so before and I treasured these times.

"Well," he said, with a spark in his eyes, "what is it?"

"After the bath," I answered. He promptly pulled the plug and stepped out and began to towel off. I did the same and then decided I would tell him only if he cooperated with my wishes.

"Lie down," I commanded him. He started to protest but saw the determined look I wore and submitted, only after securing the towel around his waist. I went to him and sat on the edge of the bed. I took up his hand and looked down at him.

"I have come to an important decision, Holmes. I have put a great deal of thought and planning into it and have not consulted you but it is time you should know." He tensed and I decided I was being cruel.

"You needn't look so worried. I am just having trouble telling you." That had not come out well, so I went on in a rush.

"I've decided to close my lodgings in Oxford. I have no intention of giving up my academic career, mind you. I am just making some changes. My personal library and all my work will reside at my farm in Sussex. When I decide I need to work in a concentrated way, I will go there for the day. Of course, I will still need to go to Oxford, but I see no reason for continuing to live there part time. You see, Holmes, I miss you too. I have no desire anymore to be away just to prove my independence. I have my degrees and I can still do my work, but when I close my eyes each night, I want to be near you as often as possible. That is, when you are home." And then I added somewhat clumsily, "I hope you won't mind. I suppose I should have asked."

He smiled broadly and reached for me.

"Why in world would you ask? No, darling, I do not think having my wife live with me all the time will inconvenience me in the least. That is, if you really think you can put up with me more than you already do."

"Yes. I think I can; besides, I am counting on the fact that you have the habit of leaving for weeks at a time yourself." I pulled at his towel and smiled, "And I promise to be just as irritable as ever, too. Perhaps this will even give us more time to argue."

He chuckled and whispered in my ear, "Lovely surprise, Russ. I am very glad to hear it."

We took good advantage of our time there together. In the afternoon Holmes had ordered in a pair of masseuses and we both submitted to the pounding willingly. I felt like I had all the form of a bowl of warm porridge when they were finished.

I had a good book, a novel even, and enjoyed curling up in the comfortable chairs. Holmes read the papers he had missed while we had been in France. I regretted the fact that he was doing something resembling work but knew it made him happy to catch up.

We took lunch and dinner in our rooms and spent plenty of time in bed; it was just exactly what the partnership needed.

The second morning we were seated at breakfast and I could tell we were to resume work shortly. Holmes put down his cup and began to light his pipe. This was a sign as sure as if he had changed topic in conversation; which he had not. We were still talking about his chemical experiments, or at least I was.

As he got the pipe going, he spoke around the stem, "What shall we tell Mahmoud--Marsh about the boy Thomas?"

And so it began. We were able to reflect about the point we had reached in the investigation and determine a course of action. It was much easier to start again than I had imagined. We were both refreshed and ready. And although I would have been loathe to admit it to Holmes; I was eager to finish the work we had started. I wanted, as did he, to set Mahmoud and Ali free of the sweet but stifling bond that held them to England. It was obviously killing them both. Of course, I did not know at that point that the work would take me away from Holmes and across the ocean.

It is best I did not know.

Before we left, Holmes said, "Come here and do me a favor, Russ."

I looked up from packing my things and said, "What?"

"Come here," he repeated. I went to him and he wrapped his long arms around me, kissed me deeply and said, "I know I am not the most demonstrative of husbands. Most of the time I treat you as my partner, and no more, albeit a really nice looking female partner," he grinned and then went on, "I am so used to work first and foremost that it does not occur to me to be any other way. I want you to know that what I am saying is by way of apology for what I know will happen when we go back to work."

"Holmes!" I began to protest. He put his fingers on my lips and said,

"I know you understand but I think it is better said than left unsaid. We never know what turn things will take, Russell. I believe the man behind the death of Gabriel Hughenfort is a desperate one. After all, I have been beaten by his thugs and you were present for a shooting party where the quarry was more than game; I want you to know, always, what you mean to me."

"Holmes," I answered and I kissed him, "Thank you, but you must understand too, I married you for who you are. I know you love me. I hope you know how much I love you. I too am a creature of work and do not often tell you all I could. I am stubborn and independent, almost to my detriment. I am not the most loving or solicitous wife most of the time. My flaws are yours and yours are mine. Don't you see? What I am saying to you, is do not worry and do not try to change: We deserve each other!"

He chuckled and said, "Right you are... we do. I just never would have guessed that after fifty years there would be someone so like me and yet so delightfully different. I am glad."

"Me too:" We looked at each other and laughed.

"This is entirely too serious and personal for either of us." I said.

"Mmm, I agree," he smiled, let's go back to work;"

"Yes, let's."

And with that, we left our little paradise and walked back into our current case.