Hello Detective

A Scandal in Belgravia Part 2

My phone slowly lowered to my side, I was in shock. My father was only 65 and in good health.

"Adelaide?" Sherlock asked me softly. My hand clapped over my mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks. I slowly raised my phone back to my ear.

"I've booked you a flight out of London tonight at 10 o'clock. Honey, I need you back home, we all need you here." She cried.

"Ok, I'll be there." My voice cracked as my mother ended the call. I looked up to Sherlock, who no doubt had deduced what had happened. He wiped the tears on my cheeks and examined my face carefully.

"Let's get you home." He said, we were only a block from my flat. There were a thousand thoughts running through my head. How had it happened? Where was he? When did it happen? Was it murder? Suicide? Did all of my family know? How was my sister? Did my brother even know? He was still in Afghanistan. Was he going to be released to come to the funeral?

If it weren't for Sherlock leading me back to my flat, I didn't know where I might have ended up. I dug my keys out of my bag but my hands were shaking too much to fit it in the hole. Sherlock placed his hand over my and helped me. I carefully walked up the stairs. I had a few hours before I needed to be at the airport. If I could barely get home and up the stairs by myself I didn't know how I was going to be able to get to the airport, through security, and find my gate all by myself..

Sherlock looked at me curiously. He didn't know how someone as strong as me could look so... broken.

I went into my bedroom and pulled a suitcase out from under my bed. I placed it on top and unzipped it. I started throwing things inside, not even folding them, I didn't even know what I was bringing. What were you supposed to even wear to your father's funeral? For someone who loved fashion as much as I did, I never picked up a dress and thought, this would be perfect to wear to my father's funeral. I went back to my closet and started rummaging through it. I stopped when my eyes landed on one dress. I grabbed it and let the fabric slip through my fingers. I was probably standing there holding that dress for about five minutes before Sherlock approached me from behind.

"What is it?" He asked. I was lost in a memory, but I snapped out of it when he spoke to me.

"I wore this to dinner with my father last time I saw him. It was right before I moved here. He was in Manhattan on business. He told me not to move to London." I explained. I pushed the dress into the back of my closet, I didn't want to have to look at it. I thoughtlessly threw some more clothes and things into the luggage in a pile. Sherlock began taking them out and folding them back in so they wouldn't all be wrinkled when I arrived. I was pacing the room, arms crossed.

"I have to talk to Lestrade." I said to myself as I paced.

"I'll take care of it." Sherlock spoke, I stopped in front of him for a moment before nodding.

"I don't think I can do this." I said, dropping my head into my hands, drained of all my tears.

"I could come with you if you want." Sherlock said carefully.

"You would do that for me?" I asked.

"Of course. I want to make sure you get there in one piece." He smiled softly.

"Thank you." I said, accepting his offer.

I grabbed my purse and began to walk towards the door when Sherlock asked me a question, "Do you have your passport?"

"Oh, no, thanks." I mumbled while retrieving it from the top drawer of my night stand.

Sherlock carried my luggage down the stairs as I heard Mrs. Astor coming out of her room.