Recovery
By Arianna (aka wavBec)

Thanks to the wonders of modern medication, Julian slept quietly for most of the long flight back to London. When the cabin was dark for the showing of the movie, she'd sensed his mind wandering back toward the warehouse in Thailand. By taking his hand in hers she'd been able to redirect the dream to a pleasant memory of a charity function they'd once attended. Nearly 18 hours after leaving Bangkok, they were back at the Chelsea apartment building. They must have looked like the walking wounded, with the gash on Julian's forehead held closed with small white butterfly adhesives, and the green foam cast on her wrist. Taking one look at them, the night security guard took their bags from Arianna and put them in the elevator.

For once, Julian listened to her and took the next dose of pain killers the doctor had prescribed when they left him. Dr. Tannanone had said the best thing he could do was sleep for the first few days and let the cracked ribs heal. With just a little guidance, he put on his pyjamas and got into bed. Arianna was pretty sure the pain of the bruised hip would keep him from rolling onto his right side but just in case, she put some extra pillows in the bed behind him.

Her adrenaline had finally run out, and as the stress of the past 2 days started to catch up with her she began to shiver. Going to the bathroom, she closed the tub drain and opened the tap to full hot before getting undressed. The scent of the Lavender aroma therapy bath salts worked it's magic to relax her as she closed her eyes, and soaked neck deep in the oversize tub for almost an hour until the water felt cool. Towelled dry and wrapped up in one of the thick dark green velvet terry robes, she smiled to see him sleeping peacefully in the middle of the bed with one arm stretched across to the other side, then went to curl up on the couch for the last few hours before daybreak.

* * *

In mid-morning, he woke up groggy, until he tried to move. Then the pain in his side brought him to awareness with a groan. She was there in an instant to check if he was alright and he was very glad to see her. With much effort, he'd managed to get the pyjama top off, but the Velcro straps of the rib support were at the back, just out of reach.

"Can you help me get this contraption off so I can take a shower?" he asked.

"Sure, how do you feel this morning?"

"A bit like a sausage. I don't see how you women wear those laced up bustier things, it's hard to breathe." She just shrugged and giggled as she put her arms around him and undid the Velcro fasteners. When the stiff padded fabric was unwrapped, he saw her cringe at the sight of the purple bruises along his side. Wincing a bit himself, he hated to admit that it felt better with the tight support on than with it off. He wouldn't be long in the shower.

* * *

After a late breakfast, he settled on the couch with a new Discworld novel and after just a few pages had dosed off again. When she was sure he was asleep, Arianna took his laptop computer to the other room and connected the phone cord to the modem slot. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she downloaded their e-mail, deleted most of the junk messages, and then went to work on hacking into file XC-1.

Three hours later, she'd had to use every trick she knew to break the encryption code, but a copy of the file was now on his hard drive. Disconnecting the phone line, she moved the copy into her new second hidden directory for reading later, and closed the lid. He was just stirring back to life as she set the computer back on the desk in the living room.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

"Umm, yes I think I am, " he blinked blearily.

"What would you like for dinner?"

"How about take-away, some Tandoori perhaps from the place around the corner?"

"Sounds good," she said, looking for her shoes. "I'll be right back."

* * *

As soon as she left, he looked at the computer and remembered what she'd let slip the other day, about needing special utilities to hack into the locked file. Somewhere on his laptop, she must have hidden some programs. Tandoori would take about 20 minutes to prepare, so he figured he had about half an hour before she'd be back. Not being overly fond of computers, his knowledge was limited to the use of those programs required for work and a few basic operating commands, but nonetheless, he wanted to take a look. Getting up from off the low couch turned out to be a new adventure in pain. When he got to his feet and caught his breath, he snickered to think he'd prefer a gunshot wound over cracked ribs any day. Slowly moving to the desk, he sat down and opened the computer to start exploring.

He was immensely pleased with himself when he found a hidden directory created three weeks ago, while they were at the cottage. There were only 2 files listed in it. One was an executable file that looked like a program for rebuilding corrupted or deleted word processing documents, and the anonymous e-mail he'd received with the Bangkok address, was the other. Careful to shut everything down so she wouldn't know he'd been snooping, he went back to the couch just before she returned.

* * *

After dinner, they enjoyed a pot of tea and listened to The Best of Enya CD he'd bought on their shopping trip last week. When he gave her no argument about taking the pain relievers, she could tell he'd regretted skipping the afternoon dose. As soon as his eyes started to glaze over from the medication, she put him to bed and went back to the computer.

Just as she'd hoped, her tracking utility showed that he'd found the directory she left uncoded. With any luck, that would satisfy his curiosity and keep him from trying to explore further, though she doubted he could break through her encoding cyphers. Pouring another cup of tea, she called up file XC-1 and started reading.

The first 4 pages detailed the steps taken to sever all inter-agency agreements and ties with 'The Committee'. The remaining pages detailed some of the events of 1995, the year missing from his memory, transcribed during the level 5 debriefing. Working in California, under the name Oliver Sampson, he was totally under Committee jurisdiction. Normally, there was no contact with field operatives on loan to other agencies but his last time things had gone terribly wrong, leading to the rift between the two agencies.

For the missing year, he was assigned to protect a girl named Sydney, who had a special talent with virtual reality. Their various projects seemed to go fairly well until the Spring. While trying to put down a hostage situation at LAX, he'd found evidence of a Committee cover-up of a plane crash five years earlier. A plane he was supposed to have been on. The NTSB report attributed the runway crash that killed 232 people to human error, claiming the air traffic controller had been drinking. But the truth turned out to be a bomb planted under his seat. He didn't know why he'd gotten off the plane at the last minute, but Survivor's guilt had haunted him for years. He'd always wondered why he was alive and those people were dead.

Later that summer, he'd been told to give Sydney the phone number of 'an accident victim who needed help with her memory'. The accident victim turned out to be Alex, the partner he'd lost in East Germany when an assignment failed, back in 1990. The Committee tried to kill Sydney in a drive by shooting but he'd pulled her out of harm's way just in time getting hit himself in the process. That explained why he was favouring his side in the train station nightmare they'd shared of Alex's death in his arms. Before the assassins killed her, Alex had said she loved him, and tried to tell him some of the truth about the Committee.

The last recount was a bit sketchy on details, but told how the Committee had turned against Sydney and ordered him to kill her. Everyone he thought he could trust had betrayed him, even his Keeper - Abernathy, a man that had worked closely with his Father. As everything was falling apart, he'd finally understood the argument that had torn his family apart after his father had been killed. Mother's father, whom he had worshipped as a child, was old school Cabal. His father, was actually a Committee member disguised as a government official. The difference in the two agencies had, at last, become painfully clear.

In the end, they'd had no choice but to listen to a man calling himself Sydney's Keeper. In the process of trying to escape with her and someone named Duncan, Sydney had gone into virtual reality and lost consciousness. Running from the Committee, they'd gotten separated at the airport and the hitmen had followed Oliver instead of the three others. He remembered a gunfight near a bridge, but nothing more.

Page 24 had a summary written by Dr. Klaus detailing how he'd been found by the beach patrol, half drowned. His car was parked midway across a bridge high above the water. Since his gun was missing, and the kevlar vest he was wearing when found was too damaged to provide any evidence, her belief was that his memory of an alleged gunfight was to conceal a suicide attempt. She dismissed the bruise above his breastbone as resulting from the fall from such a height, nothing more, and it was she who had recommended the level 5 debriefing to erase his memory of the past year.

Arianna stared in disbelief at the last page and suddenly understood the hatred he felt towards Dr. Wilimena Klaus. When she herself put the pieces of the puzzle together, she got a totally different picture. Once, when they were alone at the firing range, Julian had shown her how to put on a kevlar vest. She could remember him telling her it could stop a bullet, but the impact would still hurt like hell, and would probably knock the wind out of you. If he'd been shot in the chest and the assailants didn't realise he was wearing it, they might have thrown him off the bridge and left him for dead. The kevlar vest he'd put on her that day was very heavy and she imagined if he'd gone into the water wearing one, he'd have sunk like a stone. It was amazing he'd been found alive on the beach, but perhaps the heavy vest had also helped lessen the impact of hitting the water.

Scrolling back up through the event details she decided Julian was better off not being able to remember that year. He was trying to break with the past and this file would only bring him more grief. He'd suffered enough. If snatches of memories worked their way to the surface of his mind, so be it, but she was not going to let him see this file. Before shutting down the computer, she deleted the file and wiped the sectors clean so it could not be recovered, even with her special salvage program.

When she looked in on Julian and gently brushed a lock of hair away from the adhesives on his forehead, she sensed he was dreaming of their night at Festival Hall. She turned off the ringer on the bedside phone, and left him to enjoy the memory. As she lay down on the couch and pulled the black and white plaid blanket over herself, her mind was still dwelling on the contents of that report. Added to the bits and pieces she knew of his past it gave her a deeper understanding of the cold unfeeling man he'd been a year ago. She recalled sensing some of the feelings he kept hidden and asking him about it the first time they were together at his cottage.

If he hadn't been able to hold such a tight rein on his emotions, she almost believed he would have killed himself. All that was in the past now, he'd been alone too long. It was time he let someone take care of him, and she intended to do her best, if he'd let her.

* * *

The next day, Julian slept until almost 11 in the morning. Arianna wondered if his past habit of staying up quite late and waking up early was actually because he'd always been on guard and had never truely been able to relax. She'd woken up early and wandered around the living room with a mug of tea. Looking for something to do quietly, she opened one of the cabinets along the far wall and was surprised to find an assortment of classic board games and premium grade jigsaw puzzles. Once again, he surprised her. There was Parchisi, Backgammon, Chess, Scrabble, the London edition of Monopoly and a beautifully carved mahogony chest of ivory Mah Jongg tiles. One of the puzzles was too intriguing to pass up. She took it to the coffee table and began laying out the pieces. The picture was 3 Victorian fans, fully opened and arranged together to form a circle. The puzzle itself was round, and to make it more of a challenge, it was reversible, with the opposite side showing 3 different fans.

When she sensed him come up from behind and peek over her shoulder, the perimeter edge was completed and she was working outward from the distinctive center piece.

"You've been busy," he whispered.

"Did you sleep well?" she sat back against the cushions and looked up at him.

"Very well, thanks. But I feel like I'm wasting valuable time sleeping." He tried to lean down toward her but grimaced, bending like that was not quite possible at the moment. She turned and got up onto her knees to collect his morning kiss.

* * *

When the brunch dishes were cleaned away, they settled in for a restful day. After loading the CD player, he settled comfortably into one corner of the couch amid a nest of various toss pillows to watch her assemble the puzzle. With her sitting on the floor next to him he could just see over her shoulder as the picture developed. Only about one of every 12 pieces she picked up were put back without being put in place and in just a couple of hours, the circular picture was complete.

"How long have you been fond of puzzles?" he asked.

"As long as I can remember. That narrow table in the cone room at the house in Maine always had a puzzle in progress. My favourites were round ones like this. Sometimes, when I'd gotten tired of the picture, I'd turn all the pieces over and put one together just by the shape. Once in awhile, between puzzles, we'd play cards on the table, but usually it was reserved for jigsaws."

After lunch, he asked, "Do you play Backgammon?"

"I used to love it, my grandmother taught me, but I haven't played in years."

"Well, let's brush up on your strategy skills then. Care for a game or two?"

"Sure." She put the puzzle back into it's box and returned it to the cabinet. Coming back with the leather briefcase backgammon set, she looked at the height of the coffee table in relation to the couch and suggested, "You'll have trouble leaning forward to play on the coffee table, why don't we use the desk?"

When he sat forward, he realised she was quite right and moved slowly to the high backed desk chair.

* * *

Even though she hadn't played Backgammon in over 18 years, it all came back very quickly. He was kind at first and let her get away with leaving a piece uncovered occasionally without sending it home. But after he lost the third game

played, it was and all out war, each being merciless in their strategy. By tea time, the tally of wins and losses was about equal, and they were fairly evenly matched players.

For dinner, she made Angel hair pasta with shrimp and fresh vegetables in a light Alfredo sauce. On the way home with the Tandoori last night, she'd stopped in the little bakery for some scones and clotted cream that they had as dessert. By mid-evening, he was fighting the medication to try and keep his eyes open and it wasn't hard to convince him to go to bed.

Arianna closed the bedroom door, and went back to the couch. With the volume turned down very low, she switched on the television and surfed through the channels. She came into the middle of a mystery story that looked interesting. An artist had been murdered and the crime was being investigated by a journalist and a magician's assistant.

* * *

Arianna woke with an uneasy feeling just minutes before she heard Julian call out. She hurried to the bedroom and found him lashing out at some nightmare attacker. Gently, she took hold of one of his flailing arms but he threw her hand off without waking. "Julian, - wake up," again she tried, but he jerked away from her touch. Finally, as a last resort, she kneeled across the empty side of the bed and grabbed both of his wrists, pinning them against the wall above his head.

His body went limp and pulled against her grasp as if it were hanging from the wrists. He still didn't wake up, just whimpered "No, not again," and all of a sudden, she felt the one emotion she'd never sensed in him before, despair. The depth of the emotion was so strong it scared her and when she released his hands, he quieted and rolled onto his side with his arm across her lap.

The nightmare was over and the feeling was gone from him, but it worried her. Julian wasn't the type to give in to despair, whatever memory holding his wrists had triggered must be buried very deep in his mind. When she tried to move away, he moaned. Just being near seemed to make him calm down and sleep peacefully so she scrunched down under his arm and stayed the rest of the night beside him. By morning, he'd pulled her closer and she woke facing him, with his arm wrapped firmly around her waist.

"Good morning," he whispered as he brushed her hair away from her eyes.

"How did you sleep?"

"Terrible, until early this morning. Now, I see why it got better, thank you."

"Do you remember any of the nightmare?" she asked.

"I don't think so," he ran a hand through his hair and struggled to sit up.

"I heard you call out, and when I came in, you were fighting with someone and wouldn't wake up. You were thrashing your arms around so hard I was afraid you'd hurt yourself and...." she stopped, reluctant to stir up his forgotten past again.

"And?"

"I pinned your wrists against the wall, and you went limp and cried no, not again." She saw his forehead crease and his eyes narrow as he looked away from her. In his mind, she could sense him fighting to push something back. "Julian, what is it?"

"It's nothing, just a bad dream," he wouldn't look at her. She took hold of his arm and tried to make him face her.

"You know that won't work Julian, tell me please," she pushed. He clenched his jaw and sighed.

"Make us a pot of tea, and I'll think about it while I take a shower." She helped him take off the rib support, then went to make some breakfast.

Julian leaned against the shower wall, he knew she was right, telling her it was nothing wouldn't work. Asking him to tell her was a courtesy of sorts, he knew if she'd tried, she could have read his memories while he slept. He closed his eyes and let the hot spray rinse off the remnants of the nightmare of last night, while in his mind, he ran through the events of the two months in Buenos Aires, a nightmare he'd tried to forget for nearly 20 years.

* * *

Arianna couldn't stop worrying about him. Though not deliberately trying to pry, snatches of his feelings were coming through loud and clear, even though he was in the shower and she in the kitchen. Whatever he was remembering was buried very deep, and was very painful. He'd wanted to die, and had very nearly gotten his wish. He startled her when he put a hand on her shoulder and she dropped the tea canister onto the counter, sending the black bits of loose tea in all directions.

"Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you," he said softly as she cleaned up the mess.

Scooping the tea into the teapot, she poured in the boiling water and wrapped the padded fabric cozy around the pot to steep, then turned to help wrap Julian in his own padding for another day. The bruises on his side had changed from the liver shade of purple to the more red colour of raw beef but she could tell from his shallow breathing he was still in considerable pain as she refastened the Velcro straps.

When they were seated at the kitchen table, each with a mug of tea and a muffin, he finally began to explain. "I was sent to Buenos Aires just after Mother's death back in '78. I got careless and was captured by, well, it doesn't matter by whom. They knew methods of 'amusement' even the Marquis de Sade hadn't dreamt of. It was 2 months of Hell before the Cabal got me out of there. Most of the time, I was hanging from the wrists with a dislocated shoulder. That's probably what triggered the memory."

"I don't think I want to hear more about it," she cringed. "I'm so sorry I caused that memory to come back on you."

"I'm not - when you stayed with me, the dreams went away for the first time. Alone, they'd have lasted all night. I suppose that's part of the reason I never slept much before."

"I think part of it's the medication too." He smiled and nodded.

After breakfast, he suggested, "I'd like to get out of here for a bit, how would you like to see the marketplace at Covent Garden? Today all sorts of artisans set up booths to sell hand-made crafts and things."

"Sounds like fun, but are you sure you're up to it?" she asked worriedly.

"There's plenty of places to sit down and rest, and it's interesting to watch the people."

About an hour later, they were slowly walking down the street from the Covent Garden underground station. Arianna had wanted to take a cab, but Julian insisted that experiencing the underground was a necessary part of any London visit. There were stalls of many different craftsmen, ranging from one end of the spectrum to the other. Funky glass and twisted metal sculptures were sold next to exquisite hand knitted wool sweaters, pottery and wood carvings.

One of the 2 goldsmith stalls had very unusual custom made settings. Arianna was drawn to a chunky band ring of ivy and berries set with a cabochon moonstone in the center. Also available with an opal stone, both were the perfect size, a fact she found quite unusual. Back in the states, rings in jewellers cases were always tiny and had to be resized. She couldn't choose between the two and decided to think about it while they walked the rest of the market.

Along the sides of the open market there were permanent shops. One was full of magical things - crystals, talismans, tarot cards, rune stones and such. While Arianna was looking through the books on Celtic folklore Julian said he'd go sit in the courtyard near the string quartet and to take all the time she wanted.

When she'd made her purchase of a rock crystal orb and a purple satin drawstring pouch to keep it in, she decided which ring she wanted and went back to the goldsmith, but it was gone. As she was about to leave the stall, somewhat disappointed, she spotted an interesting torque bracelet in the back of a case of men's jewelry. It was very plain, white gold, but a stylish shape, like an oval racetrack with the gap along one straightaway. She was wondering if Julian would wear it when the jeweller suggested "I can engrave it now if you'd like." That was all the encouragement she needed.

With the wrapped package hidden deep in her bag, she followed the sweet strains of Vivaldi's Four Seasons toward the open courtyard to find Julian. Standing at the upper floor railing, overlooking the courtyard, she spotted him sitting at a table in the back with his eyes closed. When she went down the stairs and got close she could tell he was not asleep, he spoke to her before opening his eyes. "Did you decide which ring?" he asked.

"I did, but someone else must have also, it was gone."

"Oh well, sometimes that happens with unique items. Let's have jacket potatoes for dinner before we go back to the flat," he suggested. "There's a stand upstairs that's famous for them." She didn't see his wry smile as he followed her past the musicians.

"What are Jacket potatoes?" she stopped and turned to look at him questioningly.

"I think you'd call them baked potatoes, but this shop has turned them into an art form, you'll see." He took her hand and started toward the stairs to the upper level.

A few minutes later, she was marveling at some of the choices of fillings listed on the black slate menu.

Sweet corn and Cheddar
Irish Stew
Chili
Cheddar and Bacon
Prawns and Marie Rose
Tuna Mayonnaise

Julian recommended the Prawn, so she agreed, curious to see what Marie Rose would be. The creations on the plates they were given were like no baked potato she'd ever seen before. Twice the size of what would be considered a large baker in the states, they were split lengthwise, fluffed nicely and stuffed with a heaping pile of small shrimps, then smothered in the equivalent of Thousand Island dressing. All neatly settled on a bed of shredded lettuce, it was more than enough for a delicious meal.

On the way back to the train home, Arianna had a nagging feeling they'd done too much for his first day outing. A few minutes later, Julian was a few steps ahead of her when he lost his balance and before she could catch his arm to steady him, he bumped his hip against the iron railing of the underground station stairs.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly when she caught up to him.

"Fine, fine, just a bit tired," he winced. When the train pulled into the platform, it was packed like sardines, but she'd noticed the front cars were more empty. He let her lead him back away from the crowd trying to get onto the already over full middle cars.

"There's another train in 5 minutes, and the front cars looked less crowded, let's wait," she suggested. He nodded agreement and they found a seat at the front end of the platform to wait for the next train.

They arrived back at the flat just after dark. It didn't take much convincing to get him to go have a lie down so she turned on the CD player and went to check the e-mail. There was yet another message from Dr. Klaus wanting her to return to NY immediately, insisting that all incidents must be followed up with evaluations. She sent a reply to the message that the 'incident' was merely an 'accident' during her vacation and had nothing do to with their work. Then she lied, saying that everything was fine with them both. The longer she could stall the good doctor, the better the odds of keeping her from finding out about Bangkok, and hounding Julian again.

About an hour later, he limped out of the bedroom and leaned against the couch behind her, lightly rubbing her shoulders. "I couldn't get to sleep," he mumbled.

"Want a cup of tea?" she asked.

"No, I want you to come to bed."

"Julian, it's too early," she protested.

"Well, come and read a book or something."

"That's not what I mean. I'm afraid with your ribs and the bruises, I'll hurt you in the night." He rubbed his sore hip and shrugged.

"I suppose you're right, will you just come sit with me until I get to sleep?" he leaned over slightly and kissed the top of her head, "There's a surprise under your pillow."

"What kind of a surprise?" she turned to look up at him.

"You'll have to come see," he went back to the bedroom as she shut down the computer and turned off the music. Retrieving the package from her handbag, she hid it behind her back before following him. He was sitting up waiting for her, just like he'd been the night they read Great Expectations back in New York, only this time, he could see. She smiled to see the same silly schoolboy grin on his face and retrieved her pyjamas from the hook on the bathroom door.

Thanks to a magician friend she'd known in college, she was able to palm the box well enough to hide it from his sight while she stretched out on the bed next to him. And while fishing for his surprise, managed to carefully push hers under the edge of his pillow.

"What am I looking for?" she asked, feeling under the big fluffy pillow.

"A small black box."

Her fingers finally found it and she sat up with it in her hands. The black leather box was embossed in gold lettering, she felt her pulse quicken to see 'Van de Berg Jewellers, Covent Garden'. When she pressed the small brass catch, the lid snapped open and inside was the ring she'd wanted.

"How did you know I'd decide on the Moonstone?" she asked in amazement.

"I just knew, happy anniversary."

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did, it's one year tonight." As he slipped the ring onto her finger she blinked back tears of joy and leaned over to kiss him softly.

"Now look under your own pillow," she whispered.

He reached behind him and found the box. She was a bit nervous as he opened it, not sure if he'd wear a bracelet or not, but the look on his face when he saw it made all her fears melt away. She could feel the happiness in him as he picked it up and saw the inscription engraved around the inside of the torque. It matched the first ring he'd given her, 'Semper amenus' - our love is forever.

"I remembered too," she whispered. He put the bracelet onto his left wrist and pulled her close for a deep kiss. Careful not to hug him around the middle, she wound her arms around the back of his neck and enjoyed the feel of holding him close again, wishing his bruises would heal faster. When he finally started to get drowsy and settled down into the bed to go to sleep, just like back in New York, he asked her to read him a story. There weren't many books in the flat, but she did find 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes' and began with her favourite, A Scandal in Bohemia.

The next day, he paid the price of overdoing their outing, and willingly took the painkillers every four hours as prescribed. Having learned his lesson, he let her play nurse over the next two weeks, and they spent the days quietly at the flat. Each day he slept a bit less during the daytime and was getting more mobile. Reading a bedtime mystery became a familiar ritual, and by the end of the second week, they were up to The Seven Percent Solution.

Saturday morning, Julian was restless. It was a beautiful sunny day, yet cool enough to be quite comfortable. "I feel like another outing," he announced after breakfast. "Care to see one of London's tourist attractions?"

"Sure, which one do you have in mind?"

"After the stories we've been reading, I was thinking about 221b Baker Street, back in 1990, they opened it as a museum, it's purely fictional of course but the house is set up as it would have been in Holmes' time."

"That sounds splendid, I've really enjoyed reading the stories again."

"Well then, come Watson, the game's afoot," he joked.

The house at 221b was built in 1815 and had been registered as a lodging house from 1860-1934. It was a very narrow house, only one small room and a staircase wide but soaring three and one half floors high above the street. The ground floor housed Mrs. Hudson's tea room and the hall entry way to the museum. On the first floor front was the living room, overlooking the street. At the back on a right angle to the living room was Holmes' bed chamber, complete with clothing, disguise kit, and all the trappings of a gentleman living in Victorian times. The second floor held Dr. Watson's and Mrs. Hudson's rooms, now set up as exhibition rooms for the various posters, letters and oddities associated with the Holmes stories. There were replicas of the Blue Carbuncle, The Cardboard Box, the pearls from The Sign of Four, and a photo of Irene Adler and the prince, and many other items if interest to any Holmesian. On their way back through Holmes' bedroom, Arianna suddenly felt Julian shudder when he saw the empty cocaine vial and syringe on the bedstand and he left the room quickly.

He seemed distracted while they ate a leisurely lunch in Mrs. Hudson's tea room. Afterward they walked up one block to Regent's Park and sat on a bench enjoying the parade of swans, geese and assorted ducks that swam past the brightly coloured flower gardens. Julian's expression looked as if he was far away when she laid a hand on his arm and asked him what was wrong.

"Oh, just lost in memories. Holmes supposedly used cocaine as a diversion from all that was ordinary. That time in South America I learned the hard way just how far from the ordinary it can take one."

"What did they do to you?" she asked, a little afraid to hear about the amusements his captors had enjoyed.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "They started playing with drugs the last couple of weeks. Just a little at first, actually the highs helped mask the pain of hanging from my wrists. Eventually, they increased the doses just enough that when I'd come down, it was devastating." She put her arm across the back of his shoulders and lightly touching his hair, she could feel some of the horror of what he was remembering and shuddered herself. "It's impossible to describe what it was like. The hallucinations seemed so real. I finally started hoping they would kill me. In the end, they shot me in the thigh and left me for dead. Though I didn't know it at the time, it was one of Dawson's medicine men who found me. Later, he said if I hadn't passed out coming down off of the last high, I'd probably have bled to death. Fortunately, he helped me get through the withdrawals before Dr. Klaus ever found out."

"Julian, they were torturing you, she couldn't have blamed you for that."

"If she'd known about the drugs, I'm sure she'd have taken me out of service, permanently."

"Why is she so damned persistent?"

"Has she been calling again?" he asked.

"I turned off the ringer on the phone, so now she's trying via e-mail. It's just me she's after at present. Bangkok is still a secret. I told her breaking the wrist was just an accident during vacation and that everything was fine. She seems to have accepted that, for now."

"She'll be back, you can count on it."

They stopped on the way back to the flat for a light dinner and spent the evening watching the teley. Arianna convinced Julian to watch a mystery series she'd stumbled onto last week. As they sat close together on the couch, he put his arm across the back of her shoulders and pulled her closer. She hated to admit it, but she was tired, and leaned her head against his shoulder. Sleeping on the couch with one ear open to listen for him the last few weeks was taking it's toll. Tonight, when he asked her to come back to the bed, she went.

* * *

Arianna felt a sudden chill where there had been a cozy warmth, and woke to find his side of the bed empty. When she stretched lazily and rolled over to peek at the bedside clock, she was shocked to see that is was after eleven. From the living room, she heard the familiar beeps and clicks of the computer downloading e-mail and guessed Julian would be occupied long enough for her to grab a quick shower before lunch. He was still sitting at the desk when she joined him a short while later.

"Why did you let me sleep so late?" she yawned as she towel dried her hair.

"I've only been up a short time myself - there's tea in the pot."

Arianna poured herself a mug and savoured the fragrant aroma of the Earl Grey. He'd set out fruit and cakes on a dish next to the teapot. She picked up the plate and took it over to the desk with her. Peering over his shoulder, she noticed the subject lines of two more messages for her from Dr. Klaus, one for Julian from the Quartermaster, and an unusual message on the screen written in elaborate script. As she bit into an orange slice, the juice dribbled down her chin and she went back to the kitchen for a napkin.

"We've been invited to a house party."

"Really, by whom?" she asked.

"An old school chum from Cambridge, I haven't heard from him in years. He's just inherited his uncle's moated manor house. Clive was quite the practical joker at school - it might be interesting to see what he's dreamed up. The invitation says it's a period costume party, something of a role playing game. All the guests are to come as literary characters, any ideas?"

She thought for just a moment, then remembered a song from one of the CD's she'd borrowed for her flight to England. "I know just the thing, and I saw a costumer's shop in Covent Garden, will you let me choose?"

"What are you plotting," he asked dubiously.

"Trust me, you'll look great."

"Suddenly, I'm not so sure this is a good idea after all," he scowled.

"Please Julian, now that you're getting better, we'll have to go back to work soon, a weekend in the country will be fun."

"Very well, the invitation was misdirected at first so we have to leave this afternoon to be there for the start of the party. You can go pick the costumes while I pack the overnight bags." He noticed the lavender shade in her eyes and wondered what he was getting himself in for.

"It's a deal," she smiled.

"But don't pick anything embarrassing."

"Oh, all right, I guess the feather boas are out then," she teased, snickering at his worried expression as she picked up her purse and umbrella to go to the costume shop. One important lesson she'd learned the last few weeks was never to go out in London without the small folding umbrella. Even the sunniest day usually held a rainstorm sometime in the afternoon.

The proprietor of the costume shop was very helpful, he had just what Arianna was looking for and being about Julian's height was able to help her select the correct sizes. In less than an hour, she was back at the flat with two large, flat boxes of costumes. Their bags were all packed and waiting near the door, and he was leaning against the back of the couch, ready to go.

By five o'clock, they were turning into the gravel drive of the large manor house in Somerset. Arianna couldn't believe her eyes. It was another house from the gothic romance movies she'd loved as a child. A large, sprawling expanse of stone, at one end was a round tower rising at least 4 stories high. Surrounding the whole building was a narrow moat, with waterlilies growing near the bridge across to the front entrance.

There were two other cars parked on the circular drive, but no signs of the other guests when the butler announced dinner would be served at eight and showed them to their separate rooms. "I told you Clive was a practical joker, looks like he hasn't changed in all these years." Julian shrugged when she looked at him disappointedly. "It's just like him to scatter everyone all over the house."

At least they were just across the hall from each other. The house was so big, she imagined it would be easy to get lost. Julian took the top box of costumes to his room as she took her overnight bag into hers. A few minutes later, he tapped on the door with the open costume box in his hands. "I do hope I picked up the wrong box," he smiled furtively.

She turned to look at him and saw the robin's egg blue satin of the fancy gown she'd chosen for herself. "You have," she laughed, "I don't think that's your colour. Here, try this one." Handing him the second box, she gently nudged him back toward the hall. "I wanted to surprise you, go get dressed."

When he had gone, she unpacked the pieces of her costume. The cream lace underdress, the bodice embroidered with tiny seed pearls and the heavy blue satin overdress. The cotton stockings were a bit of an annoyance, but the end result was worth the effort. Satin slippers and a wig of long auburn curls finished the costume. She'd deliberately not chosen a black wig, even though it was true to the poem, so not to remind him of Cassandra.

Julian held his breath when he opened the box, trying to guess what she'd chosen for him. On top of the box was a velvet coat the red shade of claret wine. Next, he found a white silk shirt with billowing sleeves and a lace stock cravat. The breeches were of a soft brown fabric with almost a suede like feel, and at the bottom was a pair of high black leather riding boots. He ran a hand through his hair wondering what literary character she'd thought of, then suddenly thought of the Alfred Noyes poem in his collection of favourites back home. If he was to be the Highwayman, then she must be Bess, the landlord's daughter.

A short time later, he had to admit to himself he was impressed with her choices. The breeches and jacket couldn't have been a better fit if they'd been specially tailored for him, even the boots were comfortable. His only complaint was the lace tie, it just would not behave properly. After four attempts, he untied it once again and went across the hall for help.

When he opened the door after she'd said to come in, she was sitting at the dressing table fastening the back of the earrings he'd given her that had been his grandmothers. Seeing her in the mirror, was almost like looking at the portrait back at his family house. She looked radiant.

"Can you help me get this *thing* tied properly?" he asked.

She turned to see him and took a deep breath. He looked even better than she'd imagined. The costume shop owner's size selections were perfect, and he looked as if he'd just stepped out of a painting. Crossing the room to stand in front of him she heard the rustle of the crinoline petticoat that made her skirt puff out in the bell shape of that time period. Rolling the stock tie into a double coil before she tied the last loop around to fasten it off made it lie smoother under his chin. He nuzzled the side of her neck with a soft kiss, and murmured, "You look lovely."

"So do you," she teased as he checked the tie in the tall looking glass. He was much happier with it's appearance now. Just then, they heard the gong announcing eight o'clock.

"May I escort you to dinner my lady?"

"Why, thank you, sir."

When they found their way downstairs to the banquet room, the table was set for only 4 guests. A young woman was standing shyly just inside the door, dressed as Maid Marion, complete with quiver and longbow. The liveried butler showed them to their seats, the ladies either side of the head of the table with Julian next to Arianna, and then served the first course, a fruit compote of all sorts of exotic fruits and berries.

"Are we the only guests?" Julian asked as the butler turned to leave the room.

"The master will be joining you for desert," he replied.

The three of them introduced themselves and chatted amiably between the soup and fish courses. Maid Marion's name was actually Victoria Winters, but she preferred to be called Vicky. Julian recognised her name as one of the leading psychics in that part of England. All of them were equally perplexed at the invitations to this intimate party.

"I've never actually met our host, a dear friend asked me to come as repayment for a favour," Vicky said as the plates were cleared from the main course.

"It would appear I'm the only one who has, and that was at school in the late 70's, I'm not sure I'd recognise him now," shrugged Julian. Just then, the massive double doors behind him opened.

"That doesn't matter Juls, I'd know your voice anywhere." Julian and Arianna turned in their seats to see their host behind them. Even though seated in a high backed wheelchair, he appeared to be a tall man. She had imagined a school chum of Julian's would be about his same age, but Clive's face looked much older. There were deep worry lines on his brow and his pale eyes were surrounded by dark circles. She remembered Julian looking almost, but not quite, that bad when they'd flown to Paris. This definitely was a man that had not slept much for quite some time. His hair was a light ash blonde, thick but streaked through with much grey. She could sense the shock and concern in Julian's thoughts, obviously his friend was not as he'd expected.

When Clive had wheeled himself around to the head of the table, the butler served the desert parfaits and discreetly disappeared. "Firstly, I'd like to welcome you all to my little party, and to apologise for bringing you here on false pretenses. I've actually asked you all here to help me solve a puzzle from uncle Albert.

The terms of his will were rather eccentric, I have to live here in this house for a full year, before receiving the deeds and my full inheritance. Sounds easy enough, but in the three months I've been here, there's been a series of small accidents and unusual occurrences. Servants usually last less than a week and give notice complaining the place is haunted. I didn't believe in ghosts until I was alone one night last week and something pushed me down the stairs. Fortunately, it's just a sprained knee, but there is something strange going on in this place. Things get broken in empty rooms, furniture is knocked over during the night, and I hear noises, even when I'm sure there is nobody else here.

Miss Winters is well know for her work investigating and debunking claims of the paranormal and unexplained. Julian, I remember you had uncanny instincts and could sense things others never did at school, and I've heard good things about you Miss MacDuff from a mutual friend of ours." Arianna noticed Julian squint his eyes slightly as he wondered who the friend might be, the only possibilities she could think of were Dawson or Dr. Wells. "I hope you don't mind each being in a separate room, but I wanted to have someone in each of the chambers where we've noticed happenings. It's late now, I suggest we all try to get a good night's sleep. Hopefully this will be one of the quieter nights and we can start exploring the house in the morning. Breakfast will be ready anytime after 8am, provided the cook doesn't quit before morning."

When Miss Winters had left for her room in the East wing, Clive asked Julian and Arianna to join him in the study. "Please, have a seat. It's been such a long time it's quite useless to ask what you've been up to since school," he laughed, wheeling himself closer to the cozy fire. "And knowing the type of work we were both training for, neither of us could tell anyway, am I right?"

Arianna pulled her skirt aside to make room for Julian to join her on the dark brown leather couch next to the fireplace. He'd put on a good show tonight but she could see by his slow deliberate movements, the ribs were bothering him again. "You're quite right. Last I knew, you were with the Home Office."

"I retired a year ago, and spent this past year in Hong Kong. Uncle Albert sent for me about a month before he passed away. Julian, remember some of the jokes I pulled at Cambridge?" he asked with a grin.

"That I do, you nearly got us both sent down more than once."

"I'd like to hear more about that," Arianna smiled.

"Oh no, that's a part of my past that's off limits," he winked.

Clive laughed at them both, "Well, most of the pranks were suggestions from my uncle, he was the family trickster. I'm beginning to wonder it he's the one haunting this place. Just before he died, he wasn't making any sense, but he kept repeating that the key was here in the house, right in front of me, all I had to do was find it. I've been through all his papers and books and still can't find any clue to what kind of a key I'm searching for. Whatever it is, these noises and accidents are driving me insane. If we can't find some explanation, I'm about ready to give up and leave the house."

"What do the terms of his will dictate if you don't stay the full year?" Julian asked.

"It all goes to a distant fifth cousin somewhere in South Africa, I don't even know his name, we've never met. Well, I'm a bit tired, your rooms are where the furniture has been knocked over in the night. Hopefully tonight will be peaceful and I'll see you in the morning." Clive wheeled himself out into the hallway and turned toward the East Wing.

"So my lady, art thou tired as well?" Julian joked in his best Highwayman accent.

"Not extremely so," she smiled.

"Wouldst thou join me for a nightcap in my chambers upstairs?"

"It would be my pleasure sir," she giggled. "But do you mind if I take off this wig, it's beginning to give me a headache."

He snickered as they made their way up the stairs to the West wing of the house. "Not at all, I didn't want to say so, but I like you better with your own hair."

"I'll be across in just a minute," she went into her room to put the wig onto the headshaped form and replaced it in the costume packing box. When she crossed the hall to his room, he'd taken off his jacket and was slouched on the chaise with a drink in one hand and his booted feet propped up against the dressing table. He hadn't had time for more than one drink but the alcohol must have a quicker effect than his pain tablets she had stashed in her purse, she could sense he was feeling no pain now.

Seeing him in just the soft brown, well fitted, breeches and the flowing white silk shirt, she couldn't help remembering the fantasies she'd had reading Tom Jones as a teenager. As she felt her cheeks redden, she hoped he wouldn't notice. Even in the dim light of the room, she could see the playful twinkle in his green eyes as he smiled and held a hand out to her, saying softly, "I can remember reading Tom Jones too, come closer Sophie Weston."

* * *

Arianna opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling, for a moment not sure where she was. Her heart stopped racing when she recognised the bedroom of the Chelsea flat. Julian's side of the bed was cold and the clock said it was after eleven. She took a quick shower, pulled on her knit stretch pants and a bulky cotton sweater, and went out to the living room. He was nestled in the corner of the sofa with his feet up, reading.

"Why did you let me sleep so late?" she asked, leaning over to kiss him good morning.

"You were sleeping so soundly I didn't want to disturb you, and besides, I've only been up," he flipped back the pages in the book, "about two chapters, myself. There's hot tea in the pot."

She went to the kitchen and poured herself a mug, savouring the fragrant aroma of the Earl Grey. He'd set out fruit and cakes on a dish next to the teapot. She picked up the plate and took it and the teapot over to the coffee table.

"Dr. Klaus sent 2 more e-mails for you, we'll have to go back to New York soon," he sighed, as she refilled his mug and added more milk to it. "Thank you."

After she'd gone back for her own mug and settled on the floor next to him, she picked up the Times to search for the Sunday crossword. Under the newspaper on the coffee table was the Loreena McKennett CD with the Highwayman song she'd thought about in her dream.

He softly stroked her hair and asked "How did you sleep?"

"Umm, " she sighed, and leaned her head back against his hand, "I had the most incredible dream, we went to a costume party in the country - it all seemed so very real."

"I know," he laughed. When she turned and looked up at the title on the spine of the book, she understood. He'd been reading Tom Jones.