The Two Ringsby Jaka Ray
Beth Lestrade opened her eyes slowly. She was standing in a church:
the old colored glass transforming the pure light into a ray of
colors, shining on her upturned face. The atmosphere was quiet and
peaceful, tranquil and passive. And there, right in the middle of it,
he was: Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective ever, smiling down at
her, white teeth peeping out from behind lips smeared red with her
lipstick. Lestrade's mind blanked at the sight of it. How-- What is
The priest smiled at the newlywed young couple, shutting his
holoscreen and withdrawing back into the depths of the Church of New
London. A small crowd of the groom and bride's friends, gathered there
from all over the world, stood and clapped and cheered. There were the
Irregulars, and Watson, (the best man of course) and even Grayson had
responded to the invitation. The amusement at seeing his most
pestering Scotland Yard Inspector joining together in holy matrimony
with that annoyingly sharp dead detective must've been too good an
offer to resist, even if it meant taking a day or two off. But
Lestrade was oblivious to all this. All she could see was Holmes. He
kept smiling, taking her left hand in his and kissing it gently. That
was when she saw the ring on his fourth finger. And there was an
identical one on hers, too. Oh, Zed. What had she done?
They were married.
The party and all the congratulations and all the gifts and all the
hitting-a-glass-with-a-fork-to-see-them-kiss-again whizzed by her
like a placid summer rain. It was there one second; gone the next.
Soon, she and Holmes were pulling away from the church in a hovercraft
marked the in traditional fashion. Just Married. Lestrade could hardly
breathe, and it wasn't her dress that made her hyperventilate. She
murmured to her companion in disbelief, "Zed, Holmes. We're married."
But her voice wasn't tinted with joyous incredulity as the detective
had expected. She was obviously worried and scared, since her voice
quivered so uncontrollably. Something was troubling Lestrade deeply,
and it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure that out. Taking and
kissing her hand once again, he shook it reassuringly. Lestrade's
chest relaxed a little, and she smiled, leaning her head on his
shoulder in silence. He always did know how to help you, Lestrade, a
voice in her head sang. And this time he didn't even have to say
anything. Maybe things were going to be all right after all. But the
voice took on a nasty tone: who are you kidding? You're married, you
daft little girl, and from now on things will be different, and you're
smart enough to know that change sucks!
Beth closed her eyes and felt like crying again.
They pulled into Baker Street and Lestrade found herself wondering, but
what about Watson? Was he going to live with them as well? She
lightened at the thought, but felt a pang as she remembered. The robot
had graciously offered to move into her old apartment, letting her
live alone with Holmes. The new bride wanted to kick herself hard. How
could she have allowed that to happen? It felt so heartbreaking to
break up the legendary duo of Holmes and Watson: Watson and Holmes.
And it was done just to make another, less meaningful pair. However,
they wouldn't stay a pair for long if they decided to have a child. Or
children. Ew, ew, ew, Lestrade! She shivered at the thought. To
her, someone who loved Holmes so much, the thought of - ew... "That
is so sick," Lestrade reprimanded herself in a whisper. It scared the
bejeebies out of the hardened Scotland Yard officer to think about.
Following Holmes up the stairs in a daze, she realized it was almost
dark outside. Had the party lasted that long? They hadn't had too much
to drink, had they? Before she could finish her thought, Lestrade
stubbed her toe on something and cried out. The room was still a mess
since she hadn't had much time to unpack, with all the gifts pouring
in at the same time. Holmes called for "Lights on." And then turned to
her saying, "Here, let me help you. Oof." And with that he slid both
arms under Lestrade and carried her 'gracefully' the rest of the way
to his bedroom. (Er, I should've mentioned: it was their bedroom now.)
(Please don't think there is any profanity in this. It's a clean
story, I swear.)
After some settling into their position as newlyweds
with nostalgic retrospection, Lestrade sank into the soft bed, her
limbs limp and tired. I'm still in my wedding dress, she reflected
with a sigh before Holmes slipped in beside her. He had at least half
of his tuxedo on, too. He was so handsome... Did she really deserve
It just didn't make any sense to her; Holmes was supposed to be the
one rebellious against marriage. So why was it that she was the one
who was having second thoughts about it all? And it was a little too
late now for any running out on him. What a revolting wish! It would
be horrible of her to confront Holmes with her doubts. They had just
gotten married! Lestrade warned to nobody at all. So now she was
talking to herself.
With a yawn Holmes slung his arm over her protectively, with his body
pressed parallel to hers. Soon, his light breathing slowed, and his
chest heaved slower against Lestrade's back. The repetitive wisps of
air from his nose tickled her neck and almost lulled her to sleep.
Then, her qualms and uncertainties returned, and though she tried to
shake them off she just couldn't. The world was against her and she
was trapped in a corner. A darkness closed in around her and no matter
what she did she couldn't escape. She would suffocate. She writhed and
twitched and gasped for air. A choking wheeze caught in her throat and
her whole body broke into a cold sweat. She had to get air. She had to
think. She had to do something. And it couldn't involve anyone else,
not even Holmes.
Making sure not to disturb her new husband, Beth Lestrade slipped out
of the bed, and out of Baker St. into a nearby park. It was too dark
to see which one she had wandered blindly into. She was shivering
cold, since she had pulled on a sweatshirt and pants after delicately
stepping out of her dress. With it on, she might attract unwanted
attention. Besides, she felt like she'd be abandoning Holmes if she
went out unnoticed with it on. She rested herself on a bench under a
bright streetlight, like a criminal about to be brainwashed. Even her
head buzzed in confusion. Another bench nearby, in a more peaceful
position, was her new resting place. The day's events played over and
over in her head. What if what she had just done wasn't the right
thing? She was too young to be married! She had her whole life in
front of her and now she was tied to a man, destined to be his slaving
housewife for all eternity. And she loved Holmes too much to break his
heart with a separation.
Lestrade sank her face into her hands and cried until she couldn't cry
anymore. Her eyes were red and trying to cry was like trying to get
water out of a towel wrung dry by a pair of massive hands. There had
to be moisture in it; it felt wet. But nothing came out, even if one
wrung and twisted as hard as they possibly could. How depressing it
is, to be lonely when you're married, which is supposed to cure you of
that deplorably blue melancholy. Who else was there for her to talk to
if she couldn't even talk to her own husband? Who would be up at this
hour, waiting to hear about and help her with her problems? A voice
immediately spoke up: there's Holmes, of course. Oh no, wait - that's
the man you're married to. The plain gold band on her finger seemed to
tighten. She shouldn't have married him. It was a huge mistake; now
she didn't have anyone to turn to. Too late! A voice cackled at her
from inside her mind. Of course, she could still talk to him, but she
couldn't do it now, not just yet. A fear like nothing she had ever
felt before seized Lestrade's throat, and new tears fell like rain
onto her lap. Not being able to talk to Holmes, even for a moment, was
enough to plunge her mood to its lowest.
But then again, being the wife of Sherlock Holmes made her want to
dance along the streets and sing to the stars. She did love him,
right? Right. It meant that she could depend on him to be there for
her. Forever. She loved the sound of that word. It had a nice,
delightful ring to it that could raise the most dampened of spirits.
Lestrade's depression lifted with her thoughts of Sherlock's loving
face beaming down to her just hours before. She loved him so much;
just a smile from him could brighten her day like nothing else. So
that's what marriage is for. Lestrade pondered, and she stood up,
exhaling out all of her troubles.
The boulevards were now beginning to brighten as the lamps surrounding
them dimmed and the sun peeked out of its nocturnal coop. Dew covered
the grass that Lestrade's bare feet walked on, her mind itself in a
daze, but she soon found her feet were dried upon the pavement in
front of Baker St. "See how you walk to him so instinctively? You were
made for each other, even if you were born centuries apart," Lestrade
told herself. Time knows no rules in love. And this time she had found
her soulmate by a lucky chance: a dash of some honey and an old
family heirloom and presto! Turning the handle gently and prancing up
the padded steps, Lestrade was home at last. After being lost for so
long, she had walked impulsively to the door of her abode, and to the
holder of her heart.
Almost immediately following her entrance into the sitting room -- which
was done as quietly as possible -- Holmes had his arms around her. The
man had been seated in his armchair, but his keen hearing had picked
up his wife's already familiar step on his stair. (Sorry, I'm not
trying to be puny.) Without loosening his hold on her, his voice thick
with relieved panic, he puffed in one breath, "My God, Beth - I was so
worried!" His chest lifted and he pressed his lips to her soft neck.Is this really the sardonic, cold, inhuman Sherlock Holmes of the
Victorian era? You bet it is....
Lestrade was relieved as well. She had promised herself that if Holmes
had, upon her return, demanded to know where she had been, or if he
had been harsh with her, she would've ended it right then and there.
Besides, who wants a cross, selfish, and inconsiderate husband? If it
were possible, Lestrade loved him even more than before; Holmes' heart
"I thought for a moment that you'd run away!"
She clutched his shirt (yes, he was still wearing his tuxedo from the day before)
and murmured back, "Almost did, Sherlock. I almost ran away from you."
Tears embedded themselves in his shoulder. Rocking his crying wife
back and forth, Sherlock Holmes did nothing else until she was sure
she was OK. To help her calm down and feel less guilty, he chuckled,
"You know, Lestrade, I contemplated doing the same thing just before
With surprise in the jerk of her head, his spouse looked at him with a
wary eye. "And why didn't you?"
As his answer, he wiped away her tears and tried to dry his vest.
"Watson wouldn't let me, of course. Besides, everybody knew about it,
and I'd be caught and brought back in no time at all!" Holmes sobered
up a little, "Come on, you - I've made breakfast for the both of us."
As he helped her to the table, Lestrade wondered out loud how he had
known she would return in time for the early morning meal. A grin
formed on Sherlock's face as he teased, "My dear Lestrade! You always
come to me eventually, and you seem to time you visits to be in
correspondence to a certain meal. I do believe you entirely depend
on Baker Street to keep your stomach satisfied."
Beth grinned back and sat down in the chair he offered her. "It's an
old fashioned breakfast - just like Mrs. Hudson used to make! There
won't be any nasty food pellets in this family!" the great detective
announced proudly, placing a steaming plate of sausage, toast, and
eggs before his wife, who smiled impishly at him.
"So we're going to have kids, then?"
At the remark, Holmes almost dropped his plate of
chow, his face rubicund to the tips of his sandy hair. But he retorted
back to her without missing a beat, "And we'll use the old fashioned
way, too." Lestrade could've sworn her husband winked at her, but she
couldn't have been sure, because the next second he was tucking a
napkin into his collar comically. A laugh escaped from her throat for
the first time since they had been married. Another first left Beth
Lestrade's lips as Holmes started on his breakfast; she hadn't touched
her share yet.
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
The man looked up with a start, crumbs and such still lingering on his
mouth. Then, removing his napkin slowly, he moved across the table to
where she was sitting. He went down on his knees and looked up at her
with shining eyes. "I love you, too, Beth." The words seemed strange
to his tongue, but he took her hands in his and kissed them to prove
She returned his kiss with a kiss of her own. "And will you always
Holmes' eyes burned with fervor as he responded earnestly,
"Darling! Why do you think I married you?" Then, without a word, as if
they had subconsciously grown tired of the monotonous hand kissing
(which I'm sure the reader has done as well), the two (pairs of) lips
found each other. And the two wedding rings glistened in a light of
The two photos at the end of this FIC are these figurines I saw in a
shop that inspired me. it really isn't the best craftsmanship but the
tall slim figure of the man sparked the connection to Sherlock Holmes.
An young one at least. And who better to marry a young Sherlock Holmes
than Sh22's Beth Lestrade??
PS: Fans of Jeremy Brett, the best Sherlock Holmes in the
world, will remember his performance in "My Fair Lady".
Oh, and to "THE TWO RINGS" readers (not many, are there?): the "pictures"
were in a link but since i guess they don't take links.. here's the webby address:
Click: Creations > Catalogues > By Theme > Weddings-Anniversaries>
(Pg 8- I LOVE YOU TRULY and Pg 7's OVER THE THRESHOLD)
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