Beatles in a Beetle

God Save the Queen/The Bet

Ask not for whom the bell tolls. It tolls a funeral gong for my ownership of the Beatles that ne'er was and ne'er will be.

A/N: Lotsa author's notes this chapter! Firstly, special thanks to Macca40 for helping me brainstorm the second part of this chapter. Also, thanks to all my other fab reviewers: On FanFiction, Macca's Little Teddy Bear and the Mysterious Guest; on WattPad, heroesforghosts, shineonyoudiamond, MasterofFire, and cityofstarlight. And thanks so much to everybody who read New Year's Eve, 1964! I didn't expect to have so many of you read my silly little oneshot!

Secondly - we're nearing the end! This is the second-to-last chapter, and Chapter 22 should be up (tentatively) on Friday! But Escape of the Nerk Twins will have Chapter 1 up then as well :0) See the A/N at the end of this chapter for an EXCLUSIVE PREVIEW of that pseudo-sequel!

Thirdly -- the photo over in Media is an actual picture of the Beatles in their Ipswitch concert on Haloween night, 1964!

George frowned as he paced around another corner in the backstage hallways of the Gaumont Cinema. John hadn't been in the bathroom (no surprises there), but he didn't seem to be anywhere else, either. Hands in his pockets, George started down the latest white-walled hallway.

"John?" he called. "Where are you?"

"Harrison!" hissed a voice.

George stopped dead in his tracks. "John?" he asked, slowly spinning in a circle. White walls, grey floor, white ceiling, brown door to janitor's closet – that was all he could see.

"Anybody else out there?" whispered the voice.

George shook his head, then realized that John couldn't see him. "No," he replied, peering down the hallway.

A hand shot out of nowhere, grabbed George's arm, and dragged him into the janitor's closet. The person's other hand pulled the door shut behind him with a miniscule snap.

George blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. "What was that for, John?"

"Shh!" muttered John. "We have to whisper in here."

"Okay," said George dubiously, raising an eyebrow. Then, he realized that John couldn't see the raised eyebrow, so he gave up on that tactic. "What's going on?"

"I need your help with something," whispered John.

"Why me?" asked George in a low voice.

"Paul might tell Brian, and we all know Ringo can't keep a secret," reasoned John.

George shifted his position and started as his foot landed in a bucket full of water, but John seemed not to notice. "Fair enough. What's the plan?"

Half an hour later:

Paul and Ringo reached a fork in the hallway.

"I'll go right, you go left," suggested Paul.

"Okay," agreed Ringo. "Good luck!"

"Yeah," replied Paul. "We have to find them soon, we're going onstage in twenty minutes!"

"If we're late, Brian's going to ground us for the rest of the tour," moaned Ringo.

"You joking? He'll ground us for the rest of the millennium," answered Paul darkly.

Ringo waved farewell to him as they went their separate ways.

As Paul advanced down the hallway, the only sound he could hear was his Beatle boots echoing off the linoleum floor. Then, he heard something else. Someone was breathily humming "God Save the Queen."