Sophia Holmes and the Scandal in Belgravia *Completed*

Chapter Thirty - The Scandal in Belgravia Part XI

Five minutes later, Neilson lies slumped in the chair, dark rings around his eyes being just some of the emerging bruises after dad beat into him.

Sometimes it scares me how quickly he can transform from man to beast, contented only when he has inflicted a critical amount of pain. It reminds me how thin the line is between good and bad and how well we tread it. We could be the world's most infamous criminals and yet we elect to be detectives.

We told Lestrade that Neilson had fallen out of the window, so we carry him over to the kitchen window and let him fall before landing on Mrs Hudson's bins with a groan.

Apparently Lestrade's 'least irritating officer' is himself, as a little while later he arrives with the ambulance and some officers so we come out to meet him.

"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?" Lestrade asks as we watch them load Neilson onto the ambulance in a stretcher before pulling away.

"It's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector," dad replies. "I lost count." Not bothering to comment, Lestrade walks away shaking his head, a wry grin on his face.

"I should probably go in and see John," I say a few moments later. "It would be disappointing if I couldn't talk because of the pain!" Dad chuckles and nods.

"I'll come in with you," he says before following me inside and past the staircase to arrive at 221 A.

John is tending to Mrs Hudson in the kitchen. She still looks shaken, but John has cleaned her wound so she should make a quick recovery.

"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight," John says, gesturing for me to take a seat beside him on one side of the small table. "We need to look after her."

"No," Mrs Hudson protests.

"Of course," dad agrees, "but she's fine."

"No, she's not," John disagrees, looking away from my jaw for a moment to look at dad. "Look at her."

Dad doesn't respond and chooses instead to raid a mince pie from Mrs Hudson's fridge.

"Can you get another one out, please," John asks, then catches the one dad tosses over. "Right, try and chew some of that, and see if you can tell whether the pain gets worse when eating." I comply and bite carefully into the pie. "She's got to take some time away from Baker Street," John continues. "She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders."

Dad frowns at John as he kicks the fridge door shut and bites into his mince pie.

"Don't be absurd," he replies, mouth full as he speaks.

"She's in shock, for God's sake," John exclaims, "and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?"

"Safest place I know," dad replies and wipes the crumbs from mouth. We look across to Mrs Hudson who reaches down inside her top and pulls the phone out of her bra before handing it to dad.

"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot," she laughs before explaining. "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."

Dad tosses it into the air before putting it in his coat pocket.

"Thank you." He looks at John. "Shame on you, John Watson."

John looks up, puzzled, as I finish off the pie.

"Shame on me?!"

"Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?" dad wraps a protective arm around her shoulders before pulling her closer. "England would fall." She laughs and strokes his hand and John watches with a smile as he recognises the strong bond we share with our landlady.