I didn't think I'd ever finish this story, but, by chance, I finally found what I'd done with the final chapter, nearly two years ago.
I've polished it, and am presenting it here.

Once again, the birdsong woke Jenny up. When she was fully awake, she stretched slightly, rubbing herself against the protectively curled Silurian who was stealing her body heat, while resting her chin on the crown of Jenny's head, in what was both a protective and possessive statement. She knew exactly how much heat the Silurian was getting, as they'd disrobed each other the previous night.

After a couple of minutes, nature began to call.

"Gawd almighty, you daft thin'." Jenny muttered, after a gentle nudge with the back of her skull against the silurian's chin. "Gerrof."

Vastra made muzzy sounds in response, and increased the amount she was gripping her wife with both arms and legs.

Where the Silurian had got the blessed things from, she had no idea. What she did know, however, was A: They were on her wrists. B: Her wrists were connected behind her back. C: She couldn't rotate her wrists except in a circle.

Reluctantly, she curled her head forwards, until her chin was touching her chest, before slamming the top of her skull gently(ish) into the silurian's jawbone.

"Zhek?" Vastra groaned. "Aesh eroshl?" (1)

"I know it's early, but I need to go to the privy, love." Jenny said, twisting her head around and nibbling the soft scales at the base of the silurian's throat teasingly, eliciting a hiss from Vastra.

"Igui chtas icha?" (2)

"Yes." Jenny replied. She knew that Vastra wasn't computing very much, if she hadn't even transitioned to English yet. She would be speaking English within minutes, at a guess.

Vastra released her, before wrapping herself in the covers more firmly, respecting the February morning.

If her balance hadn't had more than a decade of tuning, Jenny might have had issues traversing the bedroom to the small en-suite. Vastra had approved, when she saw it. The upright National had been installed on her sixteenth birthday, as a present for them both, and had replaced an older, less-user friendly version.

As she was already dans le nu, there was no issue using the water closest, although operating the flush proved a challenge. Fortunately, she was able to ensnare the device and simply crouched slightly to operate the mechanism.

Wobbling slightly, she crossed the bedroom again, before dropping onto the bed. Vastra stirred as her weight dropped onto the mattress.

"One of these days, eroshl, I am going to cover you in ketchup, and lick it off you slowly."

"No you bliming well ain't." Jenny replied, finding the lack of the opportunity to give the silurian a smack 'round the tympanic membrane very frustrating.

"But…"

"I know, you think I look absolutely delectable."

Vastra purred.

"Today, Ma'am, is a Full English Day. Where you can have as much sauce as you want." Jenny told her, stretching slightly.

Their night had been energetic. She'd had taken a while to relax, rather than pacing around with a loaded firearm, which Vastra had spent moving closer, slowly and crooning a bass, calming note, exactly in time with her pulse, Jenny had noted. It had been all of the stresses of the day; being treated as an object by men, ending up under a dray that was supposed to stop just before it hit her, nearly being found out while infiltrating a target, and, of course, being followed all the way home. Surprisingly, Vastra had brewed her a cup of tea, to a very tolerable standard, before leaving her alone for half an hour with her latest adventure serial. Jenny knew she'd left the house and returned, but she hadn't been carrying a body.

Then, after another cup of tea, Vastra had taken her upstairs, to take her mind off of everything.

Vastra drew her wife close, and kissed her, thoroughly.

Gently, Jenny prodded the Silurian with a knee.

"I need me arms back." She said.

Vastra tried to pin her, but without the handle often provided by her wife's arms, Jenny was just about able to slip her grip. "There's not goin' ter be no food until I gits me arms back, Ma'am." Jenny said, as the two 'wrestled' on the bed.

Vastra hissed slightly, before reaching around her wife's back, and pressing down on a small catch mounted on top of the restraints.

When Jenny pushed against them again, the restraints slid open.

Stretching her shoulders slightly, she pushed against a few incipient pockets of cramp, overriding the muscles' protests with the ease of habituation.

The bondage, as she'd acknowledged it was, had originated from Vastra.

Before they'd become lovers, it had been a part of her assistant's training to ensure that she could make an attempt at freeing herself if she was abducted during an investigation. She'd started to find her mind wandering, after a few months, when Vastra tied her up, and particularly when a hand accidentally touched one of the areas Vastra had been trained were considered incorrect to touch while applying the ropes. She'd started to find ways of increasing the time taken to secure her, and then deliberately taking longer than she needed to free herself. When they had become lovers, they'd used it as a way to explore each other. It was less about the new opportunities, now, and more about reinforcing their feelings and their trust in each other.

Pecking a quick kiss onto one of Vastra's cheekbones, she clambered off of the bed, noticing with a grin the way Vastra was shamelessly drinking in every detail. As they had no reason to expect visitors, she hauled her flannel dressing gown over her shoulders, and firmly laced the front of it closed.

Even without the gas lights turned on, Jenny was able to easily find her way down to the kitchen. A foray into the cupboards revealed that the dairy cart had been around, and dropped off a dozen eggs, along with four pints of milk, which, to her relief, Vastra had deposited in the ice-box. Pushing a thumb through the foil of one of the milk bottles, Jenny poured a small amount into a tumbler, and sampled it, before pouring a larger measure into a thick-bottomed copper saucepan. Turning to the gas stove, she placed it onto one of the rings, and broke six of her eggs into the pan, before mixing them carefully together, until the solution was almost uniform. Dropping six slices from the bacon joint into a frying pan, she placed the pan over a second ring, before lighting both rings.

While she was content to let the bacon sizzle, she had to keep stirring the scrambled egg, which took her about five minutes. By that time, the bacon was as Vastra liked it, which, as she had carefully explained to the Silurian several years after they met, was also the way that her wife liked it, coincidentally or not. Vastra had agreed.

The egg curdled neatly. Jenny poured it onto their plates while it was still a slightly shining golden yellow.

Alongside the egg, Jenny poured a generous helping of American baked beans, bought from Fortnum and Mason. They were expensive (3), so they only got served at the conclusion of a case. A pair of well-grilled Cumberland sausages were picked out of the oven using tongs, and deposited on the tray. The bacon joined it, before she removed the toast from the stove, and spread it with butter. Two ultra-precise cuts with a wakizashi formed triangles of toast, which were arrayed on a toast rack.

With a grin, Jenny placed both plates on a silver service tray, and covered them with a cloche each, before placing a third, smaller item over the toast rack. She also collected Vastra's sauce caddy, laden with a variety of flavours.

A younger Jenny would have taken the whole assembly upstairs on her head, as a demonstration of her balance. The new, older Jenny, on the other hand, placed the assembly in the dumb-waiter, before activating the electric motor. If she'd had company, she'd have hand-cranked it up instead.

At the top of the stairs, Jenny retrieved the tray, before carrying it into their bedroom, where Vastra was snuggled into her corner suite.

Jenny put the platter onto the table, before pulling the cloche away, allowing her wife access to her second favourite meal. (Her favourite, Jenny had no intention of ever touching).

Jenny sat in the other chair, a comfortable chintz armchair, with a high back, and just relaxed, discussing trivial matters with Vastra.

Eventually, though, it was time to return to everyday life.

"Jenny…" Vastra said. "I sent your cousin a telegram last night, to tell him we'd solved the case."

"An' what time, Ma'am," Jenny asked. "Did you suggest that he called here?"

"About eleven." Vastra said.

Jenny's eyes flickered to the clock.

"'Alf-nine." She said. "We've got plenty of time, then."

"We have." Vastra said, sidling a little closer.

"Not fer that." Jenny said, pointedly.

Vastra deflated slightly, before bolting through to the water closet. Jenny headed for the shower. A half-full bottle of Thessian moonflower shower gel allowed her to clean the various smells of the previous day off of her body.

Vastra darted in as soon as Jenny had left, which meant that, appearances to the contrary, she'd have the house to herself for about half an hour, or at least until Vastra had used up all the hot water.

Slotting back into her familiar wool and cotton clothing was a relief. She wasn't going to burn her governess outfit, but it went to the back of the cupboard.

The first half-dozen daily tasks ticked themselves off, once she was dressed. Collect the milk, order some more eggs, empty the post cage, check the post for anything urgent, realign the hall carpet and put the tea on… Jenny achieved those within ten minutes, before making an assault on the washing up. With a draining board the size of several small houses, the process was achieved within fifteen minutes. She also washed the front hall, and left the door ajar to help the floor dry.

With an hour to spare, Jenny received Vastra in her studio, and provided tea and biscuits, before settling down for a session of people-watching.

At just after the appointed hour, the front door clattered open, resulting in the immediate appearance of several items of cutlery and a revolver, before the Graf von Kramm burst into the room. He hesitated, before the weapons were laid down.

"You have really got it!" he cried, looking between Vastra and Jenny, although the weaponry appeared to have taken the wind somewhat out of his sails.

"Not yet." Vastra replied.

"But you have hopes?"

"I have hopes." Vastra said, with a nod.

"Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone."

"We'll need ter call a cab." Jenny interjected, putting her third cup of builder's tea down on her side-table.

"No, my brougham is waiting." The Graf said.

"Then that will simplify matters." Vastra observed.

Locking the door behind them, the small party departed from Paternoster Row. Riding inside the brougham, Vastra relayed the bits of information Jenny had discovered, while Jenny rode on the outside. Bundled in an overcoat, against the chill march morning, Jenny hung on, slightly nervous about leaving Strax unsupervised, if only briefly.

As the coach rolled up the serpentine, Jenny was surprised to notice that the door of Briony Lodge was ajar, with an elderly woman who she vaguely recognised standing on the steps. The woman watched, sardonically, as Jenny and Vastra, along with the Graf, unloaded themselves.

"Madame Vastra and Party, I believe?" The woman said, looking them over.

"I am Madame Vastra," answered the Silurian, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled gaze. Jenny winced.

"Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for the Continent."

"What!" Vastra flinched, barely stopping herself from hissing with chagrin and surprise. "Do you mean that she has left England?"

"Never to return."

"And the papers?" asked the Graf, hoarsely. "All is lost."

"We shall see." Vastra said. She pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the Graf and Jenny, who'd paused to steady the old woman and apologise.

The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight. Vastra rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and, plunging in her hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to "Miss Jennifer Flint. To be left till called for." Vastra handed it to Jenny after a quick sniff, who tore it open, and all three read it together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way:

'My dear Miss Jennifer Flint,' The letter read. 'You really did it very well. You took me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly be you, and your mistress. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a young, hard-working girl as you'd presented to me. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed.

Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an object of interest to the celebrated Madame Vastra. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for the Temple to see my husband, as he is now.

We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain, dear Miss Jennifer Flint,

Very truly yours,

Irene Norton, née Alder.' (4)

Vastra gave the now-unmasked Monarch a bit of a look.

"Your majesty, what exactly was the point of pretending to be a mere nobleman?" the Silurian asked.

The human hesitated, for a few moments. "I wanted to keep my presence in London as secret as possible, Madame." He boomed.

"I'm sure you achieved your goals splendidly." Vastra replied. "I will present my bill, Your Majesty, if you would see fit to call this afternoon. Fully itemised, of course., And, I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion."

"On the contrary, my dear," cried the King; "nothing could be more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire."

"I am glad to hear your Majesty say so." Vastra said, dryly.

"I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward you. This ring—" He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand.

"Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly," said Vastra.

"You have but to name it."

"This photograph!" Vastra said, holding up the photograph of Irene Norton.

The King stared at him in amazement.

"Irene's photograph!" he cried. "Certainly, if you wish it."

"I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good morning."

Jenny smiled to herself. It'd taken her a week to train Vastra in that phrase.

"And, Yennifer…" The nobleman said, as they walked out of the door. "I'm sure your parents would appreciate it if you'd write once in a while."

Calling a cab from the rank near the serpentine, Jenny retained a fit and proper distance from her wife, until they returned to the Row, mulling over the parting words in her head. Maybe, despite everything, she'd try to break the barrier between her and her parents.

With a smile, she shook off Vastra, and headed for the study, and the writing desk where she'd concealed a few sheets of her paper.

Opening the drawer, she pulled the cardboard box out, and savoured the smell of the monogrammed notepaper.

"Dear Mother…" She wrote…

The rest would come later. But as she sat there, fountain pen in hand, she felt a weight lift off of her shoulders.

And that's a wrap. A bit later than planned, to say the least.

Footnotes:
1: Silurian. No idea what it means any more, but I think Vastra is asking Jenny what she's doing
2: More Silurian. Vastra is asking if Jenny will return to bed
3: In the victorian era, Baked Beans were a luxury foodstuff in the UK, only available from Fortnum and Mason, a high-end department store which has continuously been in business longer than the US has existed.
4: Cribbed from the original and altered to fit. I can't write a letter in the Victorian style, certainly not compared to an actual Victorian.