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

Chapter Seven - The Mayfly Man Part I

I don't remember what time I left the Ma Dame last night, but when I wake up my head is pounding. The morning light coming through a crack in the curtains is far too bright, and I blink against it and rub my head. I had far too much to drink last night.

Sitting up, I'm relieved to find that I at least made it back to my own bedroom, though I seem to have slept in my clothes. The thick mist plaguing my mind palace last night has turned to a heavy fog, so I head to the shower to try and clear it.

I barely get to the bathroom before I feel the contents of my stomach rising up, and I sprint across to the toilet and hurl up into the bowl. Well this is miserable. Why would anyone enjoy getting drunk?

Ten minutes later, I head into the living room to look for dad and maybe even John. I haven't heard a word since I woke up, and he's not in bed. I notice at once that the armchairs have been pushed closer together and frown at the sight of two sticky notes on the floor. I head over and turn them over. One reads 'Sherlock Holmes' in John's writing, while the other says 'Madonna' in dad's. Clearly they resorted to a game of Rizla after coming back, but they must have gone back out. But where?

The ear-splitting sound of a ringing phone makes me jump, and I reach for my mobile on the table, barely glimpsing the caller display before putting it to my ear. "Lestrade?"

"Sophie!" he booms, and I wince and take the phone away from my ear before turning down the volume. "I see you made it back in one piece then?"

"Where's dad?" I ask. "Is he over at yours?"

"Nah, the bastards left before I finished my shift - I was supposed to meet them. Instead I got handed a form notifying me that they were being held in the drunk tank!"

"Oh God, really?!" I laugh in disbelief. "Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there."

***

After diverting to Mrs Hudson's to get something for my headache, I finally arrive and am greeted by Lestrade in the lobby.

"Looks like you had a good night!" he says, grinning at my appearance as I walk over to him, already feeling like death warmed up. I don't think I've ever felt so ill.

I glare at him. "Shut up. I'm never going out again."

Lestrade laughs and I follow him down to the holding cells. He stops off momentarily by the desk and I look down the corridor as I wait. Not the first time I've had to pick dad up from jail, but it is the first time I'm picking him up from the drunk tank. Lestrade takes the keys and he leads me down the corridor and unlocks one of the cell doors before swinging it open and shouting cheerfully,

"Wakey-wakey!"

John is sat against the tiled wall and grimaces at the noise. "Oh my God." He peers towards us. "Greg. Is that Greg?"

"Get up," Lestrade says. "I'm gonna put you two in a taxi and Sophie's going to take you home. Managed to square things with the desk sergeant."

John painfully climbs to his feet and squints over at me. "Sophie?"

"John," I smile back, amused to see John like this but also to see dad still fast asleep on the bed at the back.

Lestrade laughs disparagingly. "What a couple of lightweights! You couldn't even make it to closing time!"

"Can you whisper?" John asks quietly as he walks slowly towards the door.

"NOT REALLY!" Lestrade yells as John passes him. I wince, my head pounding, and Dad flails as he wakes up suddenly, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock. He looks around the cell in bewilderment, and John gives Lestrade a look of betrayal on his way out.

"Come on," I say to dad as Lestrade follows John out. He sits up on the bench, stands, teeters, then falls back onto the bench. He tries again, this time raising his fingers to his temples and I realise with a chuckle that he's using his mind palace to learn how to walk in a straight line again. He wobbles on one foot until he regains his balance, then drops his hands and stumbles carefully out of the cell. I seem to be faring slightly better than him, at any rate.

We join John and Lestrade back up at the desk, and the sergeant passes forward dad's belongings. He grunts with the effort as he puts his coat on.

"Well, thanks for a ... you know ..." John looks for the word as we walk towards the exit, "... an evening."

"It was awful," dad sighs.

"Yeah," John agrees and I laugh. Dad groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I was gonna pretend, but it was, truly." He looks to me. "How was the hen-do?"

"Better," I nod, smiling as I recall the lap-dance by the guy in the army uniform. "We didn't head home and play a game of Rizla before becoming a public menace, at any rate."

Dad breathes in, remembering something and lowering his hand. "That woman, Tessa."

"What?" John asks, confused. I look over in interest.

"Dated a ghost. The most interesting case for months. What a wasted opportunity."

"... Okay," John says, still lost.

"Wait, you went out on a case?" I frown. "At what point did you think that would be a good idea in your state?"

"Mrs Hudson brought her up, I could hardly say no."

My furrowed brow deepens. "Mrs Hudson sent up a client on the night of the stag, knowing full well that you would be incapacitated?" Dad nods. "Sure, makes sense."