"It was grief, Doctor, which drove him to it," Mycroft said solemnly, a thick carboard file lying open before him on the desk. "Cantlemere had a younger brother, Charles, fifteen years his junior, to whom he was utterly devoted. Alas, Charles had been lured to South Africa two years ago by the diamond boom, and was killed in a mining accident – or so witnesses claimed."

"So Cantlemere was trying to prevent any more needless deaths," I murmured in amazement, intrigue overtaking resentment at Mycroft's summons to his office this morning, "by shaking the public's confidence in the value of true diamonds!"

"And heaven help us all if society ever agrees with him!" Mycroft sighed, massaging his temples. "However, Cantlemere failed to take into account that diamonds also have immense practical worth in the industrial field. Devaluing them as a commodity alone would not have been enough to halt the diamond trade altogether. One can't help understanding his motives, of course, but..."

"But Taylor's skills would still have done more harm than good in the long run." I couldn't help sympathising with Cantlemere, either, after what I had undergone myself for just two of these infernal lumps of crystallised carbon! "...What's going to happen to him?" Fom what Lestrade had told me, my friend was well on the mend when discovered, and staying as Cantlemere's honoured guest while working. The poor fellow had never been happier...

"Well, I don't suppose Her Majesty would be pleased if the donor of a new jewel to the Crown collection were jailed for his generosity," Mycroft remarked innocently. "It must have been most trying for the royal jeweller, changing settings all the time."

I stared. Two Koh-i-Noors... and very few people would be certain which piece held the fake, the tiara or the brooch... but if Taylor was in no danger of losing his freedom a second time... Oh.

"Taylor's working for you now, isn't he?" I stated flatly. "The government, I mean. I imagine they've been hoping to offer him a job since before the explosion!"

"Between these four walls, Doctor," Mycroft smiled apologetically. "Yes, our hand was rather forced by that terrible accident, although we haven't completely ruled out sabotage. Taylor's survival was nothing short of a miracle. The asylum was for his protection while he recovered, more secure than an ordinary hospital – or so my associates believed."

"But Cantlemere broke him out first." And I'd spent a whole evening at the Yard inventing a cover story Taylor hadn't even needed!

"And his lordship's been justly compensated for his care of the patient," Mycroft answered dryly, closing the file. "Thankfully for all concerned, it appears Count Sylvius could not quite bring himself to hand the diamond over immediately after the exchange, since only he knew for certain when it had happened. Which reminds me, Doctor, the Queen also wishes to convey her deepest..."

I shook my head wearily, cutting him off; I hadn't faced Sylvius and his thugs for Her Majesty, or the Empire! "No reward, Mycroft. I just want to see Taylor, one last time, before you hide him away again."

~0~

Mary squeezed my hand comfortingly, anchoring me amid the sea of humanity on the station platform. "Ready, love?"

I smiled faintly and squeezed back, not the least bit ready. I hadn't expected Mycroft to grant my request quite so literally: Queen Victoria's private waiting room at Paddington Station! Taylor was to take a private train, Heaven and Mycroft alone knew where... How bizarre it all seemed, having fought so hard for the life and liberty of a man I had only ever seen once before, and likely never would again. Was it only concern for Taylor's welfare that moved me, I wondered, or was it partly to dispel any lingering doubts that our first meeting had actually happened, that the scorched and ragged patient I had tended in that cell hadn't been a mere delusion, desperately conjured out of grief to replace the dear friend I had lost? I still didn't have an answer... but the inexorably marching hands of the station clock pointedly reminded me that such musings were irrelevant just now.

Finally, I took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's go in."

A pair of liveried footmen approached as we entered, taking our coats and hats, then the elder led us into a richly furnished parlour. A suited figure stood before the marble fireplace, hands outstretched to the flames, hands that had once clutched at mine, covered in such terrible burns...

"Doctor and Mrs. Watson."

The man at once turned, and despite my earlier warnings I heard Mary stifle a gasp, her hand tightening on the crook of my arm. I didn't blame her in the least, not having seen Taylor as he had first appeared that fateful night! The burns and cuts all seemed to be healing, but the poor fellow's skin would likely resemble melted wax for the rest of his life. I was glad, however, to see a fine ginger stubble returning to my friend's head, which he would be wise to grow long to cover his brow and what remained of his ears. Moreover, the earlier soot had obscured a refined, gentle face, though marked now by deep lines of pain and dark circles under the eyes, which I simply hadn't noticed before were a muddy brown. Taylor was also, I was startled to note, a good two inches taller than myself, but the care and nourishment lavished on Lord Cantlemere's guest of honour had nearly returned him to a proper weight; the young giant smiling shyly at me was no more of a facsimile of Holmes than I.

Ignoring the lump in my throat, I stepped forward, cautiously extending a hand, but Taylor would have none of it, seizing my hand in both of his, masking a flinch of pain with an exhilarated laugh. "Doctor Watson, how good to see you again!"

"And you, my dear fellow!" I exclaimed, resisting with difficulty the urge to clasp him by the shoulders. "How are you?"

"Never better!" he lied cheerfully, turning next to Mary with a bow. "Your servant, madam."

Rallying, Mary smiled sincerely, returning the bow. "John, won't you introduce me to your charming friend?"

"Delighted, my dear." I didn't know what had inspired Mary to act as if she knew nothing of the case, but Taylor's gratified expression told me it had been exactly the right thing to do. "Allow me to make known to you Mr. Edward Taylor, a scientific colleague of mine."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Taylor. We were about to sit down to tea, will you join us?" Mary tugged a nearby bell-rope, then gestured invitingly at the fireside chairs with the air of a duchess.

"My dear, I... I really don't think..." I began hesitantly, but the footman had already reappeared.

"Tea for three, please," Mary told him, as if she hadn't heard me, then added in a pleasant but emphatic voice, "And you may inform Mr. Mycroft Holmes that Mr. Taylor's train will not be departing for at least an hour."

"C-certainly, madam." The wide-eyed footman almost scurried out of the room, while Taylor and I stared first at my wife, then at each other. Had that really just happened?

~0~

It was the most wonderful afternoon I had spent in a very long time, and Taylor also seemed to appreciate the chance to simply sit and converse on harmless topics of interest over tea and cakes, served on Her Majesty's own china. I could only imagine how weary my friend already was of his life's work being conscripted for the purposes of the rich and influential, but here he was taking tea with two people who weren't the least bit interested in diamonds!

All too soon, however, the three of us had to return to the platform, where Mycroft stood waiting beside the train, eyeing Mary askance, but wisely forbearing to comment. Mary bade Taylor a warm farewell, then went off to engage a carriage home, leaving the pair of us facing each other awkwardly.

"Well... goodbye," I murmured at last, extending my hand again to grasp his firmly – Taylor didn't like having his injuries coddled any more than I did mine, it seemed.

"Goodbye, Doctor – and thank you." Taylor hesitated. "By the way, er... I suppose someone should know... My name, it isn't actually Taylor."

"I know," I smiled. "What is it really?"

"It's, er, Molesey, Herbert Molesey," he blushed. "I never liked it, and well, there was an Edward Taylor at my old college – quite brilliant, really, or he could have been if the drink hadn't taken him..."

I nodded in sympathy. "Then I wish I could tell him how brave his namesake is, and how proud I am to know him. You'll do great things for your country in time, my friend, I feel certain." 'If my record were closed to-night I could still survey it with equanimity...'

Molesey blushed, mumbling something I couldn't catch, then we both started at the sound of the guard's whistle.

Mycroft approached and cleared his throat. "My apologies, gentlemen, but we must be going."

"Naturally," I said, more primly than I'd intended. "Oh, and I shall be writing regular letters to Mr. Taylor, Mycroft, so please ensure they are delivered?" I didn't expect to receive any in return – Herbert Molesey wasn't the type to write more than coded messages in chemical symbols – but that was well beside the point!

Mycroft half raised an eyebrow, expression inscrutable as he studied me, then bowed. "As you wish, Doctor." He stepped into the carriage after Molesey... Taylor with a tip of his hat, just before the steaming train began to pull away. "Au revoir."

As I waved, I felt Mary come up beside me, slim gloved hand tucking comfortingly into my elbow again. "Will he be all right now?" she asked softly.

I nodded, hearing clearly what my wife had hesitated to voice. "We both will." It was good to be home at last.

The End