The Lazarus Machine

Chapter 14

Sherlock and Lord Sherrinford had joined John for breakfast the following morning.  Harry stumbled down just after Sherlock had pushed aside the remains of his toast.  John was still dug into a much heartier breakfast.  Harry studiously ignored the contents of his brother's plate, requesting strong tea and nothing else.

The morning post arrived.  Mycroft's eyebrows lifted as one letter was placed beside his brother's plate.  Sherlock snapped it up with undisguised delight while Mycroft calmly flicked through the dozen or so letters that had arrived for him.

"Mycroft, ready the coach.  We must leave for London at once!"  Sherlock shot out of the room in a flurry of coat tails.  Lord Sherrinford plucked up Sherlock's letter, still fluttering from Sherlock's wake.

After a brief perusal, he said, "I apologize for this abrupt and untimely departure.  My brother's presence is urgently required in London.  He has, on occasion, consulted with Bow Street on certain matters.  It appears something out of the usual course of things has occurred."

"Yes, of course we understand, Lord Sherrinford."  Harry's hangover gave way to fluster.  Sherlock's baritone bellowed in the hall for his luggage to be packed and to please be mindful of the violin.

"We'd better make haste, or he will begin running there on his own two feet."

John and Harry pushed away from the breakfast table as Lord Sherrinford stood.

"Worry not, Sir Harold.  I will send the final paperwork around with my solicitor in a week's time and we can pick a date as early as the reading of the banns allows."  Harry dropped back into his chair at this, definite relief on his face.

"Captain Watson, I expect I'll see you at the ceremony, if nothing else.  Good day."

John bowed politely before Lord Sherrinford left the room.

"Heavens," Harry breathed.

"Indeed.  Excuse me, Harry."

John left the room to find Sherlock donning his greatcoat in the foyer.  The amount of servants seemed to have tripled, bustling down and back up the stairs, both with and without luggage.

"I'm sorry our visit was cut so short, Sherlock."

"Doesn't matter.  We will be married soon and you'll be in London and, I imagine, heartily sick of me by summer."

John smiled, wishing there was more he could say.

"Could I write to you?"  Where had that come from?  What would he have to say in letters to this man?

"Do as you will, John, but I'll likely be too busy to read them.  I may make the time if you write about the bees.  I may just pour over your letters, then!"

"Will you write back?"

"I don't have time for correspondence, John."  He said it like it was a foul word.  "There are nefarious deeds in London!"

Sherlock shook John's proffered hand and disappeared out the door, likely startling the horses that were pulling up the carriage outside with his shout, "Mycroft, do hurry!"