Sophia Holmes and the Great Game (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Seven - Connie Prince Part II

Mrs Hudson leaves us after a while, but Lestrade stays with us as we ponder the link. My head snaps up as a phone rings but I realise, after a second, that it's dad's phone - not the pink phone.

"John," dad says, answering it, and I step closer to hear the conversation.

"Hi," John replies. "Look, get over here quickly. I think I'm onto something. You'll need to pick up some stuff first. You got a pen?"

"I'll remember."

"Alright, bring some press cameras, a bag to put it all in - basically you need to look as though you're a photographer. Ask Sophie to bring some recording equipment and her notebook - she can be a journalist."

"Alright, are you still there?"

"Yeah, hang on, he's coming back in. I'll see you later," he says before hanging up.

Dad slips the phone back into his pocket and looks around on his desk for an address.

"What are you doing, Sherlock?" Lestrade questions as he finds what he's looking for, and heads towards the door for our coats.

"A J Gibbons. Owes me a favour."

I dart up to my bedroom quickly for my dictaphone and notebook before following dad out of the door and down the stairs.

***

"Hello," dad says as the houseboy - Raoul, I think Molly said his name was - opens up the door to Connie's flat. He holds up the camera. "Can we come inside?"

I look over the boy quickly as Raoul shows us in and pick up on several things Molly had mentioned. He's clearly used to this type of lifestyle - he's been living like this for a while and has almost become part of the family. Kenny obviously trusts him - and Connie too when she was alive - but his involvement is not something that would be out of the question. He found the body, and it wouldn't be out of the way to slip some tetanus into her daily routine - maybe in a tub of her over-priced moisturiser, for example.

As he leads us through the kitchen and into the living room, my nose scrunches at the over-powering smell of disinfectant. Mr Prince is primping himself in front of the mirror as we arrive and dad walks over to him as I move over to stand beside John.

"Ah, Mr Prince, isn't it?" dad questions.

"Yes," Kenny replies.

"Very good to meet you."

"Yes; thank you." They shake hands and I follow dad's eyes down to Kenny's hands. Manicured nails, and buffed up with a lot of makeup, but not recently. He's obviously stopped since his sister's death, whether it's out of guilt we are still to see.

"Hiya," I say, stepping forward to also shake his hand. I feel the clamminess of his palm between my fingers, and I draw my hand back. "So sorry to hear about ..." I say gently as dad steps back and says something discretely to John.

"Yes, yes, very kind."

"Shall we, er ..." John prompts, and I nod in agreement before fishing out my dictaphone whilst dad drops the camera case down onto the sofa and rummages through it.

"You were right," John mutters quietly to me. "The bacteria got into her another way."

"Oh yes?" I say, smirking.

"Yes."

"Right," Kenny says as he turns around from fiddling around with his hair. "We all set?"

"Um, yes," John agrees, then looks at dad and jerks his head towards Kenny. "Can you ...?"

Kenny poses with his arm on the mantelpiece as dad starts to take the photos, and I open my notebook. "Mr Prince. How are you taking the news of your sister's death?"