Sophia Holmes and the Scandal in Belgravia *Completed*

Chapter Twenty Seven - The Scandal in Belgravia Part VIII

Dad leaves with Molly ten minutes later. They've found her body, but dad says nothing to me as he goes so I continue to sit at the dining table, watching the clock tick down to twelve.

"Another drink Soph?" Lestrade asks, taking the empty glass from the table in front of me back into the kitchen and I nod.

For ten years I thought my mum was dead, then she stalks back into my life, emotionally exploits me, and leaves again. It's probably for the best that I continue the night senseless.

My phone buzzes from beside me and a humiliating image of Mycroft Holmes appears on the screen.

"Uncle," I say into the phone, taking the glass Lestrade offers me as I pass him, heading for the hall. "I trust I have to hear it from you."

"He hasn't told you?" Mycroft says ponderously. "The day I fathom the mind of your father is the day that pigs fly."

"I thought you frequently travelled by air," I say to harsh silence.

"I hear you've joined in with the festivities," Mycroft says sourly. "How many glasses has it been? Two, three?"

"On my fourth," I say, taking a sip. "It's Christmas."

"You're sixteen."

"It's Christmas," I repeat. "Anyway, you didn't phone to lecture me. What's happening?"

"My brother has always been one to stray a little closer to the dark side than his family would have prefered, yet his drug habbit appeared to worsen when your mother died."

"And as I seem to recall, you weren't the first to step in to help."

"Of course not," Mycroft replies, seemingly suprised that I had an issue. "It was his mess to get out of."

"I was three years old," I hiss back at him. "I didn't know what the hell was going on."

"My apologies," he says, though it is clearly fake. "As I was saying: your mother's death caused your father to stumble through the next few years hardly knowing which way was up. Now Miss Adler shows up and somehoe manages to achieve something we've all been attempting to get him to do for years - move on. Sherlock clearly felt some attraction towards Miss Adler else -"

"She was my mother." I say quietly, though it's enough to stop him from speaking. "Irene Adler was my mother." For the first time in his life, Mycroft is stunned into silence. "If you hadn't have been too busy pretending we didn't exist and more time protecting our family, you would have known." After a moment he speaks again.

"You have my sincerest apologies. If I had any idea -"

"You would have saved her?" I question. "No you wouldn't." I pause for a minute and he doesn't speak again and my mind catches up to what he had been saying previously. "So you he might relapse tonight?"

"It's entirely possible," Mycroft replies. "He's still not smoking?"

"For the moment."

"In a moment, I will offer him a cigarette," he explains. "If he takes it, we'll know tonight is a danger night."

"Why choose now to help? You could have prevented all of this if you had been with us from day one."

"I cannot resolve the mistakes of the past but I can make sure they don't happen again.At the end of the day, Sophia, Sherlock is my brother and you're my niece. It would break my heart to see anything happen to the either of you."

"It seems I'm not the only one who's been drinking," I reply, not knowing what else to say. He isn't prone to outbursts of family compassion.

"I'll call you after I've spoken to your father," he says. I'm taking the phone away from my ear when he speaks again. "And Sophia: try to ease back on the drink." I end the call before he can lecture me further and go back into the kitchen.

"Sophie -" John says, coming back up the stairs after seeing dad off.

"I know," I reply. "I've spoken to Mycroft - he seems to think it could trigger a relapse. He's going to offer him a cigarette and if he takes it, we'll know a bit more about his condition. So we need to ..."

"Ensure that anything like that is found and removed," John nods. "We should probably get rid of Lestrade."

"I've got that, you make a start." John nods again and I follow him back into the living room. "I don't suppose we could get away with naming this party a success," I sigh as I sidle up to Lestrade.

"Nah," he replies. "Just got a new record to beat."

"Of five minutes," I laugh. "Sorry it's been such a let down. I suppose you'll be wanting to head home and start packing."

"Yeah, sorry, d'y'mind?"

"Not at all," I say, going back into the kitchen and collecting another drink.

"Thanks for the drinks."

"You're welcome," I respond, then listen for the front door to close before making my way to the bedroom to search for the emergency packet of cigarettes and any drugs which may be lying around.

But they aren't in the usual places. I search through each draw, ensuring I put everything back according to dad's very specific index, and scan the carpet for any sections which have been cut out to provide easy access to a loose floorboard below but there's nothing.

After half an hour of looking, I hear John's phone go and join him in the living room.

"No," John responds to a question I can't hear. "Did he take the cigarette?" He pauses to listen and his eyes loose their tipsy sparkle. "Shit," he says before turning to me. "He's coming. Ten minutes."

"There's nothing in the bedroom," I reply, shrugging.

"Looks like he's clean," John says, back into the phone, "We've tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonight's a danger night?" I wait, looking at John's face for any sign of what Mycroft is saying. "I've got plans," he protests but then I hear the line end and despite John's attempts to call his name, Mycroft doesn't respond.

So instead, he takes the phone down from his ear and, chewing the inside of his mouth, walks across to Janine and sits down beside her.

"I am really sorry..." he starts.

"You know, my friends are so wrong about you," she replies.

"Hmm?" John returns, frowning.

"You're a great boyfriend."

"Okay, that's good," he says, looking startled, though I can see where this is going. "I mean, I always thought I was great."

"And Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man." John groans and tries to talk to her.

"Jeanette, please -"

"No, I mean it," she says, bitterly as she slides her shoes back on. "It's heart-warming. You'll do anything for him - and he can't even tell your girlfriends apart. " She stands and heads for the door, John following her like a lost puppy as she puts on her coat.

"No," he protests, "I'll do anything for you. Just tell me what it is I'm not doing. Tell me!"

"Don't make me compete with Sherlock Holmes!"

"I'll walk your dog for you," John says, and I close my eyes at his stupidity. "Hey, I've said it now. I'll even walk your dog ... "

"I don't have a dog!"

"No, because that was ... the last one. Okay."

"Jesus!" she exclaims, picking up her bag and storming out.

"I'll call you," John calls.

"No!"

"Okay." Exasperated, John turns back into the room as she runs down the stairs.

"That really wasn't very good, was it?" I ask him, trying to contain myself as John bites his lip.

"How're you holding up?" he asks, quickly moving on.

"Great," I say before going back into the kitchen for another drink. I'm passed out on the sofa when dad comes home.