"I imagine not," he agrees. "Do I take this to mean you have personal experience with that fact?"

"Oh yes. Short of stranding us on the moon or otherwise managing to starve us to death, the only way to kill my sort of vampire is with fire, albeit not solar sourced fire. This is traditionally much easier if we're pulverized into small chunks first, though. My witch power is sufficiently interested in my mind's continued existence as well as its integrity to force me back into a survivable configuration if someone manages to attempt this on me. Twice."

"Ow," squeaks Shell Bell.

"Fascinating," says Sherlock.

"You could put it that way."

"I'm glad you're alive," volunteers Juliet.

"Me too."

"Thank you," says Golden. "I'm glad I'm alive too. I don't imagine being set on fire would have been any more comfortable if my enemies had succeeded at what they had in mind, after all. Although there are drawbacks to finding such extreme conditions survivable. The previous occupants of my position as secret vampire world leader found it convenient to keep people with useful witchcraft stored as heaps of rubble in a dungeon, including my husband and my sister-in-law, for five years."

"Damn," says Sherlock.

"Rather. Yes. And in that time Edward thought I was dead, which was worse. Diamond vampires - as I have decided to call us - mate for life in the most serious sense possible."

"Well. That's unpleasant," he says, not quite as flippantly as he means to.

"I thought he was dead too. I turned out to be mistaken regarding the identity of an ash heap. I was, just barely, functional - it helped that there was Elspeth, even before I took her from her grandparents and aunts and uncles."

"Do you want a hug?" asks Shell Bell.

"Yeah," agrees Juliet, "hugs, available things."

"I am familiar with the circumstance," says Sherlock. "You have my sympathy. And another hug, if you'd like one."

"I'm full up, thanks. Familiar how? Does your sort do this too?" She peers at Juliet's profile. "Sunshine vampires?"

"Not the specific thing, he's just - lost people," says Juliet.

"Mm. Mates are special, but not - infinitely special, so the sympathy's likely informed, regardless. Elspeth occupies a similar priority for me compared to Edward. But this is largely because my mind is safe. It's not true for Edward comparing me and our daughter. His original relationship with her was destroyed years ago. It's better now. But it'll never be the same."

"Specifically," says Sherlock, "the circumstance of loving someone so much you are not sure you can survive without them, and then having that put to the test." He quirks a faint, humourless smile. "Twice."

Golden nods. "She has his hair," she murmurs. "She used to complain that I wouldn't let her cut it until it swept the floor. When the relationship-destroying witch came along she chopped half of it off." Pause. "The relationship-destroying witch is the only person I have ever personally killed."

"I have killed quite a number of people," says Sherlock, "but the first human was the man who hid a gang of vampire assassins in our basement and thereby caused the death of everyone I had ever loved. I expect even if I had my soul pinned back on, I would still stand by that one."

Golden nods.

Juliet hugs her Sherlock.

Sherlock hugs his Juliet.