We are both up and out of the house early this morning. Watson's remark while we were out walking yesterday about fresh air has prompted me to experience something new with him and I have found it difficult to sleep as a result.

"Where did you say that we were going Holmes?" my companion asks as we climb inside our waiting cab.

I give him a small, fleeting smile. "I do not believe that I did."

"Well?" he raises his eyebrows at me and waits patiently.

"You shall find out in good time," I respond with a smirk. Perhaps he will not be so nervous if he is busy trying to deduce our destination.

We reach the monorail station in good time and make our way inside. This is the first time that I have had reason to use the monorail, but I hope that my companion will feel safer using this mode of transport than he does when he is in the back of a hovercar.

I purchase our tickets while my friend waits just inside the door. I still do not wish to tell him where we are going; I have always enjoyed surprising him.

"Our train leaves in ten minutes," I inform my companion as I join him. "With luck it should already be waiting; I do not relish the thought of spending even five minutes on a cold platform."

He nods his agreement and links his arm through mine. "Which platform do we want?"

"Number seven," I respond as I lead him in the direction of the escalator to the footbridge.

The train is indeed already waiting and we jump aboard and take to a pair of seats that face one another over a small table. It is a comfortable temperature inside the carriages and we gratefully remove our outer garments.

"These trains are fast," I caution my friend. "So we shall have to prepare to disembark while we are still quite a distance from our destination."

He nods his understanding and settles back in his seat. "I do not suppose you are going to tell me what we are doing?"

I shake my head and smirk at him. "Where is the fun in that?"

He shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention to the station platform.

"Are you all right Watson?"

He turns back to me with a small smile. "Yes thank you. I have a very considerate friend who seems determined to take very good care of me."

"I trust that my coddling is not too irksome for you?" I ask with a quirked eyebrow. His dismissive attitude of last night stung me somewhat and I should like to know if I am annoying him so very much.

My companion frowns for a moment and then realisation dawns. I see his throat and cheeks flush ever so slightly with embarrassment and shame. "No Holmes, you have not annoyed me. I was simply rather tired and not thinking very clearly last night."

I nod and relax as much as the uncomfortable seats and poor leg-room will allow, satisfied to leave it at that.

My companion reaches across the small, almost useless table and touches my hand as he addresses me with a tentative smile.

I return his smile with one of my own and attempt to find a comfortable sitting position. The monorail might well be faster than the transport of our day, but it is not nearly as accomodating. Perhaps it does not need to be though, what with its turn of speed, and at least we are warm.

The journey is indeed a short one and we soon disembark in a little Essex town that is still very Victorian.

"This is very different from New London," my companion remarks. "Were it not for the monorail, I might make the mistake of believing to have stepped back in time!"

That is exactly why I chose it; I did not wish to be annoyed by noisy amusement arcades and other such tourist attractions. I link arms with my companion and lead him in the direction of the sea, the smell of it already reaching us on the chilling breeze, as I tell him as much with a cheerful smile.

When we reach the dunes my friend gives an almost silent gasp of delight and surprise. The beach is unspoilt, the view perfect. The old pier, which is soon to be closed for the winter and is currently only open at weekends, has only a handful of visitors strolling on it or enjoying its original rides. Time indeed stands still here.

"It is beautiful Holmes," Watson says in little more than a whisper. "Thank you."

I squeeze his arm and address him with a small smile. "I thought that you might like it here."

"I do," he responds with a bright, merry smile. "You never cease to amaze me!"

I shrug and avert my gaze. "I did nothing remarkable," I assure him. "A mere matter of using a search engine; it took no more than ten minutes."

He laughs softly and squeezes my arm. "Well, thank you all the same. Shall we take a stroll along the sea front?"

"There is nothing that I would like more."

He smirks at me. "Really? I thought that you might want to find a little tea shop."

Truly he knows me too well. "Well, after our walk perhaps."

He nods and pulls me in closer to him when I give a slight shiver. "I think that we shall both be glad of a hot drink. It is colder here than it was in London."

I nod and conceal a silent sneeze. "It always is colder at the coast."

"We shall have to return in the summer," Watson remarks. "I do not relish the idea of taking to the waters in these temperatures."

I shudder at the idea. "No. I should think that that would do rather more harm than good."

"We have not brought any towels anyway," he says with a quiet sniff. "Had you told me where we were going..."

"You would have purchased bathing clothes and brought towels along, so that we could enjoy the health benefits of the sea," I chuckle quietly. "No thank you Watson; the temperature of those waters are more than likely shocking at this time of year."

He laughs and pats my arm. "All right Holmes; I know that you feel the cold."

As if on cue, I give a sudden, violent shiver as the sea breeze seeks out my neck, wrists and ankles while it stings my exposed face.

"Come on old fellow," my companion says kindly. "Let us find a tea shop. I think we shall both feel better for a hot drink."

How can I refuse?

"How much am I going to owe you when I have money of my own?" my friend asks me quietly. "I should like to pay for half of the weekly shop at the very least."

"We shall come to an agreement later," I respond. "At the moment I am content to simply enjoy our reunion and forget such matters; money has never been of much importance to me anyway."

"No, but I would not like you to think..."

I silence him with a frown and dismissive wave of my hand as I bring us both to a standstill for a moment. "I know you Watson. You should know well enough that I am not going to misjudge you. Now, do stop fretting and enjoy yourself!"

"Very well then," he addresses me with a cheerful smile and I feel him relax somewhat beside me; though I am not the only one who is shivering now.

"Thank you," I return his smile with one of my own and we resume our search for a tea shop.

We soon find exactly what we are seeking. In a perfect location on the promenade is a little tea shop, which carries the rather strange name of the 'Old Bill' above the door. It provides seating both inside and out. As we prepare to step inside, we pass a weather-beaten old couple with a little dog that are taking tea at one of the tables under the shop's awning. Even the dog is wearing a thick overcoat, but the trio look rather chilled all the same.

"Morning," the elderly gentleman greets us with a smile.

I touch the peak of my cap. "Good morning."

"Terrible cold, isn't it?"

I shiver and nod as I cast a glance toward the door of the shop. I do not wish to be impolite, but I am rather too cold to want to stand about chatting.

"I haven't seen weather like this since January 2061," he continues, not seeming to be aware of my impatience or discomfort, while his companion (neither of them are wearing wedding bands so I doubt that they are married) looks on with a disinterested air that suggests that he has made the same observations to every walker that they have encountered in the dunes this morning.

"No indeed," I reply. I am tempted to say that it reminds me of the autumnal weather of my youth, but I decide to behave myself. It is clear that neither of these people have the faintest idea who we are.

"This is a beautiful place," Watson remarks. "Do you live here?"

"In the next village inland," the gentleman replies. "We come here most days. Jethro likes the seaside," he reaches down to pet the dog under the table, "don't you old thing?"

The dog wags his tail and cocks his head to one side.

"No, you've had all the biscuits," the old gentleman tells him with a chuckle. "He's a greedy old thing," he informs us. "We take him here to walk off some of the fat the vet keeps fretting about, but he puts back on what he walks off in biscuits!

I am inclined to tell him that he should not keep giving him biscuits in that case, but I am rather too cold now. I shiver and silence two sneezes that I am forced to vent, only to render the effort completely useless when a third bursts forth loudly.

Watson is immediately all concern. "Bless you! I think that we had better find you a hot drink Holmes. Please excuse us," he adds, turning to the dog walkers with a quick, polite smile as he pushes me inside the tea shop.

"Good morning," the lady at the counter greets us cheerfully as we approach. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

I sniff quietly. "Tea Watson?"

"Yes please," he responds with a small smile.

I expect he is also hungry; I know that I am! "A cream tea for two, if you please," I request. In this case, 'cream tea' means fresh, warm scones, jam, clotted cream and butter, served with a pot of tea, without the addition of strawberries and cream.

"Of course," she responds with a smile as she accepts my credit card. "Take a seat and I'll bring it over. You'll have to wait a bit for the scones though; I don't bake too many out of season or they end up going to the gull and goodness knows he's nearly too fat to fly as it is."

The use of the plural strikes me as curious but I do not comment. Instead, I assure her that we are in no hurry and Watson and I take a table in the window, from which we can observe the beach.

"How are you feeling?" Watson asks me with concern.

I smile at him and touch his arm. "I am quite well my dear chap," I assure him.

He nods but still his eyes sweep over my face in a searching manner. "Forgive me Holmes. I simply did not like the sound of that sneeze in the slightest."

I understand perfectly, for I know that my reaction would not have been any different had the shoe been on the other foot. I smile at my friend and settle back. "I only need warmth and nourishment."

"I hope you are right Holmes; you are quite difficult when you are ill," he smiles at me and then clears his throat. "Excuse me for a moment, would you?"

I nod and dismiss him with a wave of my hand as I turn my attention to the view outside. There is a gull standing on the table that has been vacated by the walkers, peering curiously into the woman's teacup.

"That's Old Bill," the teashop owner informs me with a nod in the direction of the gull as she sets down a tray before me. "The shop was named after him; he's visited this place since before I took it on. He saved the previous owner's life, you know."

I raise an eyebrow at her, my curiosity sufficiently piqued. "Indeed? How did he do that?"

"Well, d'you know, if you feed a gull it can take to you with the devotion of a dog," she informs me. "The previous owner was a kindly sort of man and, when he came across a lone, young gull calling for a parent - a bird that looked awfully sickly and thin - with no adult bird in sight, well, he brought it here and fed it up on liquified scraps out in the yard. Y'know, he would've been closed down for sure if he'd been found out, but he believed in doing what good he could, 'cause this world's bad enough. Well, Bill grew into a strong bird and he released him into the wild. He probably thought that that was an end to it, but Old Bill had other ideas. He'd come here every day and eat what scraps the patrons left, first of all. That was all right; you can't close a shop down on account of wild birds paying a visit of their own accord and most places that serve food are visited by birds of some sort."

I am losing interest. I was more interested in how a seagull could save a man's life, as opposed to why.

"When Mr. Fairford went walking, which he did regular, the bird followed him. He got into a habit of taking stale bread and other leftovers with him to give to Old Bill out in the dunes. Well, anyhow, one day Mr. Fairford was out walking when a dune gave way and half buried him; they can be awful dangerous if we have too much rain..."

I was already aware of that.

"Well, to cut a long story short, Old Bill made a terrible hue and cry. Someone out walking his dog, being a bit of an amateur bird watcher, went to investigate because he thought there must be a hawk about. He found Mr. Fairford, who was cold and shaken and hoarse from calling out for help, but very much alive. But y'know, if he'd had to wait there 'til someone decided he'd left his shop shut for longer than the ten minutes his note said he'd be out, he might have died. It was rainy and only the dog walkers would have been out that weather; he wasn't a young man and being stuck out in the cold, up to his waist in wet sand..." she shakes her head at the thought. "Old Bill's a hero in these parts; I don't have to worry about getting closed down for feeding that bird, I can tell you!"

Such is the way of things. That gull will undoubtedly have become something of a local celebrity; of course he should be looked after.

"A fascinating tale," I remark with a small smile. In a way it is, as well; I know of the nature of dogs, but I would never have believed that a wild seagull could have similar qualities.

"Thank you sir," she responds. "I'll just check on your scones."

"Thank you."

Watson returns with a quiet apology and resumes his seat.

"You did not miss very much," I assure him with a small smile, before giving a condenced version of the story of Old Bill as I pour the tea.

My companion shakes his head and sips his tea. "The nature of animals is remarkable," he notes.

"Indeed," I reply with a small smile. "It is for that reason that I have always regarded cruelty toward the creatures with which we share this world with distaste. To kill a pest is one thing, as is killing for food; to kill, frighten or inflict pain on a defenceless creature needlessly or for mere pleasure is a different matter entirely."

He agrees quietly.

"At least cruelty against animals is regarded as a crime these days," I remark, as much to myself as to Watson. "England has two societies to both protect our birds and animals and also to prosecute those caught doing harm."

Watson leans back in his chair and smiles at me. "I recall that you were always rather fond of dogs and horses. I remember your anger when we saw a chap with his overloaded cart flailing his poor horse... I thought that you were going to kill him!"

"I might well have done had you not intervened," I admit quietly. "There was no cause for such treatment. I know that I have instructed a cabby or two to rush his horses in my time, but only ever in a just cause."

He nods his agreement and sips at his tea. "I do miss the horses," he admits. "They were a part of London, even after the invention of the motorcar."

I agree. "And the dogs. I rather miss Toby. Admittedly, robots can do much more than tracking and detecting dogs were able to but never the less..."

He smiles. "We could get a dog, if you like."

That might not be a good idea. "We could not get a dog! Dogs require training; they need time, patience, love... We are both likely to be out for long stretches of time."

"Holmes," he shakes his head. "We could arrange our time to ensure that the dog is not left alone in the house for long. We could also ask the Irregulars to help..."

I contemplate the suggestion and then shake my head. "If it were as simple as ensuring that the animal was fed, watered, comfortable and exercised I would have owned a dog before now. I do like dogs. However, dogs require a firm hand. Multiple owners and trainers will lead to a very confused and unhappy animal and, most likely, a very frustrated and unhappy master."

"Then what would you suggest?"

I shrug. "We wait until we are retired and discuss taking on a pet then." And yet I do agree with my companion; the thought of strolling through Regents Park or along a seafront with a little dog is a pleasant one.

Watson snorts. "I doubt that we shall want to take on a pet when we are old either," he remarks. "We will have become set in our ways; besides, the animal would have more energy than the two of us put together."

I laugh at the thought. "Hum, you are probably right old fellow. I retired to a perfect spot for dog owners, yet I did not even contemplate adopting one."

"I rest my case."

I shrug. "All right; we shall discuss it with John. If the two of you can find a practical means of rearing and training a dog with our lifestyles then I shall happily allow you to persuade me."

He brightens at once. Clearly, I am not the only one that misses the four-legged citizens of London.

Once we have finished our tea, leaving a scrap of scone apiece for Old Bill, we step back outside and walk along the pier arm in arm.

"It truly is beautiful here," my friend of old remarks. "Thank you Holmes."

I give his arm a subtle squeeze as we watch the tide turn while the gulls wheel and call overhead. "Quite all right old fellow," I respond quietly. "I also needed this, to find a quiet place in which to pause and collect myself. New London can be a little too much on occasion."

He agrees quietly. "It would seem that we have found our safe haven."

I smile to myself. I had found that already; I found out during my three years of hiatus that anywhere could be home if only I have Watson with me. Sharing lodgings with him has changed me, made me less independent, and I was rather surprised when I realised that I did not mind.

It pleases me to think that we are reunited at last and that we have another lifetime ahead of us to embrace together. Possibly with a dog. Either way, we have found a pleasant retreat, something that I never thought to look for before now, and there is still much more to explore and discover. For the first time in this second lifetime, I am truly happy. I am home.