Sophia Holmes and the Sign of Three (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter One - The Bloody Guardsman Part I

For the next few weeks we stop taking cases in order to prepare for John and Mary's big day. My bridesmaid dress is already sorted and hanging in my room, and I've had my analytical skills put to helping them choose the right cake, colour scheme and of course, the correct perfume.

Two weeks before the wedding, we sit around in the living room planning the reception and rehearsal. Pinned above the sofa at the back of the room - which would usually be taken up within newspaper clippings or evidence - is countless pieces of paper with checklists for what needs to be done, such as the transport, catering, rehearsal and wine. I notice that 'stag do' and 'best man's speech' still haven't made it up there. There's even a small 3D paper model of the reception venue built to scale which makes me question whether dad has perhaps taking the planning a bit too far.

Dad stands up to look at the seating arrangements for the church then turns back to Mary, who is sitting with me up to the table, while John sits in his armchair looking at his phone. "Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin."

Mary smiles. "Ah, orphan's lot. Friends – that's all I have. Lots of friends."

"Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11.48," dad says, still looking at his list.

"But the rehearsal's not for another two weeks," Mary points out. "Just calm down."

"Calm? I am calm. I'm extremely calm."

"Just focus on the reception," I tell him, and he reluctantly walks over to join us.

Mary hands him and RSVP card. "John's cousin. Top table?"

Dad looks at the card and frowns. "Hmm. Hates you. Can't even bare to think about you."

She looks up at him. "Seriously?"

"Second class post, cheap card..." he explains, then sniffs the card and grimaces, "bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She's obviously unconsciously retaining saliva."

"Ah!" Mary sighs, then turns back to John. "Let's stick her by the bogs."

"Oh yes," dad agrees, taking a seat with us. Mary leans in.

"Who else hates me?" I hand her a long list of names I've drawn up onto a sheet of paper, and she takes it. "Oh great – thanks!"

"Priceless painting nicked," John says, speaking up at last as he reads from his phone. "Looks interesting."

Everyone else ignores him as Mary looks at a seating plan for the reception. "Table four ..."

"Done," dad says.

John chuckles at something on his screen. "'My husband is three people'."

"Table five."

"Major James Sholto," dad says, reading from a list. "Who he?"

"Oh, John's old commanding officer," she explains. "I don't think he's coming."

"He'll be there," John says.

Mary raises her eyebrows. "Well, he needs to RSVP, then."

"He'll be there," he repeats, firmly.

"Mmm..." Mary says, in doubt.

"'My husband is three people'," John reads out again, clearly trying to get dad's attention. "It's interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin."

Dad stands up and speaks quick-fire. "Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes." He squats down beside the coffee table and pulls out a tray with two serviettes folded into different shapes from underneath it. He gestures to them as he looks up at Mary. "Swan, or Sydney Opera House?"