Sophia Holmes and the Scandal in Belgravia *Completed*

Chapter Twenty Five - Christmas with the Holmes' Part III

Dad takes Professor Plum from the box and places him on the board before John takes Colonel Mustard out and does the same. Left with little choice, I take Miss Scarlett out from the box and place the others in their respective places on the board.

"Everyone clear on the rules?" John asks as he deals the cards out and places the last three in centre.

"John, we're detectives," I point out. "What could be so difficult about this?"

John shrugs so we begin to play. The key to this game is deduction and that's our strong point. I look through my cards and note down the ones I have. As I have Miss Scarlett, I start first and direct my pawn towards the Lounge.

"Professor Plum, candlestick, Lounge?" I ask.

"Wrong," dad says and John looks up while he sifts through his cards.

"You don't need to say anything. Just find a card she mentioned, if you have it, and show it to her."

"What use are the cards if we're missing one?" dad asks and John frowns.

"How d'you mean?"

"There's only six character cards when there are seven characters. Miss Scarlett couldn't have done it because, judging by the mess in the library, she was fighting with her mother, Mrs Peacock, which rules her out as well. Colonel Mustard had his revolver stolen from beneath his pillow judging by the absence of the outline in his pocket. Judging by his positioning on the board, he believed it to be Professor Plum who had taken it, but he was discussing current affairs in the study with Reverend Green while Mrs White was in the kitchen preparing their evening coffee. The most likely explanation is that the victim killed himself with Colonel Mustard's revolver in the lounge as it was the room which was furthest away from everyone else at the time."

"You can't be serious," John questions, looking dumbfounded.

"He is," I respond.

"You do realise it's against the rules of the game for the victim to be the murderer, don't you?"

"It's the only logical explanation."

"But it's not in the rules -"

"Well then the rules are wrong!" dad cries, taking the steak knife Mrs Hudson had used earlier to carve the turkey and pinning the board against the wall with it.

We sit in silence for a moment, each of us anticipating the reaction of another. Eventually, John gets up and goes into the bathroom.

He hasn't drunk enough yet today to warrant another trip to the toilet, so it's more likely he's washing his face of the soot from the exploding cracker so he can go out. Not that many places are going to be open, but he'll make the excuse of going to pick up some last minute essentials for the party he's cajoled us into having tonight. But he feels the same as I do - if he spends another minute in this flat, he's likely to kill dad.

Somehow he always manages to spoil Christmas. I don't remember a year we've had where we haven't ended up falling out by the end of the day. There's something different about he Holmes family and I'm not always sure it's a good difference.

Sure enough, John emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later.

"I'm just going to pop to the shops to pick up some bits for tonight," John tells us pointlessly. Dad is still standing, looking at the game board emotionlessly - most likely having not heard John speak. He looks to me. "Did you wanna come with me?"

"No," I reply and gesture to the the book. "I should get back to work."