Breakfast is not really what I had had in mind, but it is not unsatisfying and I am hungry enough to appreciate it. All the same, my sleep-deprived brain is hurting me and there is a ringing sound in my ears. Were he here, John the Compudroid would no doubt be watching me closely. How glad I am that he is not.

I am pleased to discover, upon checking my pocket telephone, that I have received no further messages. Clearly, Watson and Trevor have both had some sleep.

"They were worried about us," my wife reminds me. "I think it's good that we've got friends who care. Don't you?"

"Well... yes, of course. But I do wish that they would not concern themselves so."

"Yeah, well... you like to be independent. Let's face it - nobody is. Not really. I'm pretty independent, but I realised a long time ago that I need you with me, if I'm really gonna be happy in life. It's just the way things are."

I shrug my shoulders. "Watson has already proved, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he can do jolly well without me."

She embraces me and rests her head at my shoulder. "That doesn't mean he doesn't care."

We shall see.

I wash and throw the suit which I was wearing last night back on. I would rather not unpack anything, just yet, for I hope that the lack of calling voices from outside means that we may resume our journey. If not... well... I know not what to do.

It is when I am preparing to go out that I realise a blunder which I have made: George Lestrade's daughter-in-law! She is expecting and I promised that I would return both her and her husband to the present early, but he failed to remind me and I have been rather too busy to remember. I shall have to set this right.

"Beth... supposing I take you back to London..."

"What?" she explodes. "Why? No, suppose we stick together, huh? There's no way we're cutting our honeymoon here, just because of a setback! No!"

"Beth, listen..."

"No!" she snarls, poking me in the chest. "No, you listen! I'm not going back to London 'n' back to work, OK? I want to spend some real time with you."

She looks as if she might cry, now that the initial anger is giving way to hurt.

"My dearest, dearest Beth, I am not proposing that we give up. I was going to suggest that I drop you off at one of the very finest restaurants I know. I have neglected to do something important, which really cannot wait until we return from our honeymoon."

She smirks at me. "If you mean dropping an expectant mother and her husband back in their own time, Watson already took care of it. He thought maybe you'd run out of time or just forget."

I gape at her. "Watson has never used my machine before!"

"Well, I have. I showed him how to work the thing and he said it went like a charm. Don't worry; he's kept your time stamps - you can still drop the others back to the right time and place."

I know not whether I am irked or impressed.

"Well... well, I suppose that he has done us a favour. However, I was also going to suggest that we use Machina Temoribus Peregrinandis to travel to our destination and thus spend the entire week there. What do you think?"

She pulls a face. "It's not that I don't love the idea, but how do we explain how we got there?"

I shrug my shoulders. "We shall say that we took the 'long way around', as they say. Come, we should check out and make our way back to London."

"No you don't! Let's talk this through, before you go off half-cocked. OK, so we're time travel to Paris to make up for lost time..."

"Yes! We could even go back to the very start of our honeymoon, so that no time has been wasted."

She looks thoughtful. "S' tempting, but you're forgetting something important. We'd still have to come back to the present, after. So... what do we're do then?"

Oh! I had indeed overlooked that problem.

She touches my arm. "Any messages from Paris?"

"Oh. Yes. They have advised us not to try to get to them and that they have compensated us by arranging for us to stay in a luxury space hotel. The Diamond Satellite."

"You're kidding! The Diamond Satellite? That's zedding expensive!"

"Hum. The journey - both ways - has also been paid for."

"Nice! So... when did they send that email?"

I check and grimace. "Yesterday. During the service, apparently. I did not see it arrive."

She shrugs. "The bad weather might've delayed it. Ah, well. Let's get back to London 'n' grab our zedding suits."

"Very well. I shall get the bags; go on down and check out, if you would be so good."

She is about to leave when she stops, her hand upon the door handle. "We could make up the time. You know... take the time machine to the Satellite, check in, stay there until the time we left and then get back to London and then take a rocket back up there. I mean... that'd work, right?"

"Well... yes, I suppose it would," I muse. "If we do it that way, there will be no time gaps."

She grins. "Let's do it, then. See you downstairs, Sherlock."