Sophia Holmes and the Scandal in Belgravia *Completed*

Chapter Three - The Scandal in Belgravia Part III

I'm right.

The helicopter lands a little while later in the garden of Buckingham Palace, and I'm helped out by an escort dressed in a suit which must have cost at least five hundred pounds. He then shows us in through the backdoor, along an enormous hall decorated with ornate walls and crystal chandeliers. John stops to take it all in and I must admit it's slightly impressive, but I follow our escorts gesture into a smaller room, which contains two sofas and a small round table between them. On the table is a pile of clothes and shoes because behind them sits dad still wrapped in his sheet. He looks calmly across at us, and shrugs at our confusion before looking away. I lead us into the room and sit beside dad, and John sits down on the other side of me. I can see him trying to hold back a laugh and distracting himself by looking around. I take in dad's appearance before frowning.

"Are you wearing any pants?" I question, and John looks over.

"No," dad replies and I raise an eyebrow.

"Okay." We exchange a look before all three of us burst out laughing.

"We're at Buckingham Palace," John says, trying to collect himself, "fine. Oh, I'm seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray." I laugh as my eyes lands on the ashtray in front. I bet very few people know about this. "What are we doing here, Sherlock?" John questions, shaking his head. "Seriously, what?"

"I don't know," dad admits.

"Here to see the Queen?" John questions sarcastically. At that moment, Mycroft walks in from the hall.

"Oh, apparently yes," I laugh, and the boys join in. Mycroft sighs, looking exasperated.

"Just once, can you three behave like grown-ups?"

"We solve crimes, I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I think Sophie is the only one which is actually grown up in our house, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft," dad says, all signs of humour now gone.

"What, the hiker and the backfire?" Mycroft questions. "I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?"

"Transparent," dad says lightly and I nod in agreement as John stares at us, looking startled.

"Time to move on, then," Mycroft urges, bending over and picking the clothes up and off of the table before offering them to dad. He looks at them, uninterested, and Mycroft sighs. "We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation." His tone changes, and he turns stern. "Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on."

"What for?" dad shrugs.

"Your client," Mycroft replies and dad stands up.

"And my client is?"

"Illustrious ..." says the Equerry, walking in, " ... in the extreme." John pulls me up, his military training kicking in. "And remaining - I have to inform you - entirely anonymous." He looks across at Mycroft and smiles. "Mycroft!" he greets him.

"Harry," uncle responds, walking over and shaking the equerry's hand.

"May I just apologise for the state of my little brother and the manners of my niece?

"Full-time occupation, I imagine," Harry laughs and we scowl at him. "And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

"Hello, yes," John says tightly, as if he was still speaking to a commander as they shake hands.

"My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog."

"Your employer?" John questions.

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminium crutch."

"Thank you!" John replies, looking around with a smug look. I'm just slightly shocked he's written it up so quickly.