Lestrade sighed as she sat beside Holmes in the transport. She was glad that she was the only one to accompany him. At least he knew better than to try and protect her from herself. Tom and the others had protested profusely when she said she was going, but Holmes had told them that it would do her good, and that if she didn't go, she would make their lives miserable. So, the decision had been made.

She groaned softly, as the pain in her head suddenly intensified. It had been doing that off and on ever since she had regained consciousness. Watson said that it was a side effect of her brain doing something it was not used to.

"Are you okay?" Holmes asked.

"Aside from the fact that I've done something that no other human being has, a pounding headache, and finding out that my mom was a mad scientist, I'm just fine," she answered irritably.

"Watson gave me some painkillers for the headache. You can take one now if you like. The others you must deal with in your own time," Holmes said. She sighed again and took the painkiller.

"What made you decide to put the ring on?" Holmes asked after a few minutes.

Lestrade looked over at him. He was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, apparently not even interested. Of course she knew better than that.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, "I accidentally knocked the box it was in off of my nightstand. Then, I was just...compelled to put it on."

Holmes opened his eyes and looked at her. "Perhaps, in the future, you should resist such temptation," he teased.

She glared at him. "If I had known something like this was going to happen I would have put this thing as far away from me as possible, without giving it away."

Holmes started to reply, but was cut off by the captain announcing that the transport had arrived in America.

The two of them disembarked and made their way to the hotel they had made reservations at before leaving New London.

"May I help you?" The young clerk at the front desk asked.

"Yes," Holmes said, in an American accent, "I'm Jeff Baker, and this is my partner Beth Street. I believe I have reservations?"

"Let me see," the clerk intoned as she began looking in the computer, "Here we are, Baker and Street. Rooms 234 and 235, adjoining just like you asked." She then signaled the bellhop to take their luggage, and handed Holmes the keys.

Once they had arrived, Lestrade took a look around her room. It was spacious, with a huge bed in the middle. She lay down on it, to test it out.

Some time later, she felt a cool hand on her forehead and a soft voice whispering, "Lestrade, wake up."

She opened her eyes to see Holmes staring down at her. When he saw she was awake, he removed his hand. For some reason she felt bereft, but shook the feeling off.

"We need to go over what we are going to do today," Holmes said.

Lestrade frowned. "Today? But the interview isn't until tomorrow."

"It is five am, Lestrade. You have been asleep since eight o'clock last night."

"You let me sleep that long," she accused.

"You needed it, and there was nothing to be done that could not wait until morning. Otherwise, I would have woken you." He watched her guardedly.

"I'm not going to jump on you, Holmes. Actually, I feel much better now. No headache."

Holmes smiled. "Good, then there will be nothing to distract you. Now you know our cover?"

"We're in the spaceship-building business, and we need a new physicist. Our last one quit to go to the competition. Before we can decide on someone, we need to make sure they have the credentials, the know-how, and most important of all, whether or not they're trustworthy," she recited.

"Very good."

Four hours later, they sat in the tiny office of Professor Elaine Fielding. Her eyes were light blue and twinkled merrily; her grey hair was pulled into what was supposed a severe style, but had wisps of hair sticking out. She couldn't be more than five feet tall. She reminded Lestrade of the fairy godmother she had drawn for a school art project.

"I am so glad you have chosen to interview me," Fielding said softly, "I love teaching students, but it doesn't pay very much." She grinned widely. "Yes, money is important to me, as it should be to everyone. Without it we cannot get by."

"I'm glad money is important to you, Professor. That is certainly a point in your favor. On the other hand, it's also one against you," Holmes told her.

Fielding looked confused, so Lestrade elaborated, "Our last scientist bailed in order to receive more money from our competition. We know you have the credentials, and are inventive enough to take the job. What we need to know is whether you're trustworthy or not."

Fielding looked affronted. "Of course I'm trustworthy. I wouldn't be teaching at this school if I weren't."

"Words are words, Professor," Holmes said. "We need proof."

"I worked on a top secret project with five other scientists," she said angrily, "And I wasn't the one who ran off with the experiment. I stayed with the project, even when my ethics told me it was wrong. Because I'm trustworthy."

Lestrade noticed Holmes' eyes flash with triumph. "Perhaps you can give me the names of those other scientists? If it is not a breach of security, of course."

"The only two who are still alive, are the chemist, Anton von Muller, and the geneticist, Martin Fenwick."