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"Shall I go make an appointment for a week's time with your secretary?" Bell asks.

"Yes," says Coin. "That would be helpful."

"Can do."

Bell goes and makes the appointment (meeting with Empress of Atlantis re: hiring agreement) and then fetches Sherlock and teleports them back.

"I'm going to design a crown," she says brightly.
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"I am sure it will be beautiful," says Sherlock, kissing her.

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"Oh yes. I've had about five years to think about it, after all," she says, grinning.

She closes her eyes and calls up all the fleeting mental images that she can remember now of sea-gems and shapes and colors. She discards most of the early ones, and fuses the others together, and -

Square.

"What do you think?"
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Sherlock kisses her.
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[I wonder if I should start referring to you as my Imperial Consort?] muses Bell, kissing back quite happily.

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[That would be lovely. Do I get a crown too?]

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[Sure! What do you want it to look like?]

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[Simple,] she says. [Plain. Sharp.]

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Bell starts with the design of her own crown, and sleekens and simplifies and shrinks and smooths and sharpens - and squares, and places the result on Sherlock's head with a kiss.

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[I love you.]

Time for some imperial makeouts.
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Imperial makeouts indeed. Best kind of makeouts.

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