Michael Holmes: Secret Son of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 27: A Game of Murder

At the wedding reception, Sherlock continues to make the best deduction he could of the Mayfly Man. "Married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity... and instead of endless nights in watching the telly or going to barbecues with awful dreadful boring people he couldn't stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise..." He paused and smiled slightly. "... to play the field. He was..."

The guests murmur silently and stare at Sherlock awkwardly. Mary wrinkled her nose, shaking her head ever so slightly. "On second thoughts I probably should have told you about the "Elephant in the Room". However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being."

Sherlock said. "I used to think that's what made me special – quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that – I should know. He's saved mine so many times, and in so many ways." He looked down and smirked. Holding up his phone, he continues his speech.

"This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures... of murder, mystery and mayhem. But from now on, there's a new story – a bigger adventure." Sherlock smiles at John and Mary. "Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding." Sherlock raised his glass as all of the guests stood. "Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson." He cheered as the photographer began taking photos.

He stops, freezing in place, staring blindly towards the guests. The photographer snaps several photos of him but the popping flashbulb doesn't make him react. Sherlock's fingers loosen slightly and his champagne glass slips out of them and begins a very slow-motion tumble towards the floor.

Sherlock frowned slightly. He seemed to be in his own world, eyes staring blankly at the audience, his glass continues to drop to the floor. Not sure if anyone noticed but Michael realised his father was mumbling something that seems to be something like the words 'coincidence' and 'Mayfly Man'.

"What do we say about coincidences?" Mycroft's voice ring in Sherlock's ears.

"The universe is rarely so lazy." Sherlock mumbled.

"So, the balance of probability is...?"

"Someone went to great lengths to find out something about this wedding." Sherlock muttered.

"What great lengths?"

"They lied, assumed false identities."

"Which suggests...?"

"Criminal intent."

"Also suggests...?" Sherlock could almost picture Mycroft sighing at Sherlock's poor response.

"Intelligence, planning."

"Clearly. But more importantly...?" Mycroft questioned once more.

Sherlock's eyes widen in realisation. "The Mayfly Man." He repeated. "The Mayfly Man is..."

"... here today." His champagne glass smashes on the floor at his feet and shatters into a million pieces. He looks down at it. Raising his head, he apologises. "Oops, sorry, I..." He looks down at the floor, making an exasperated noise and clearing his throat. The Master of Ceremonies hurries over to him. "Another glass, sir?"

He looks out at the guests. "Something is going to happen – right here." Mycroft's voice rang again. "Could be any second." Holding their glasses in the reception room, Miss Hudson and Greg look a little anxious. Greg looks at Miss Hudson and frowns.