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

Chapter Sixteen - The Sign of Three Part VIII

"... Here today," dad says loudly, then, as if processing the smash on a delay, looks down at the broken shards of crystal by his feet. "Ooh, sorry. I ..." he makes an exasperated noise and clears his throat. I think the penny may have dropped.

The Master of Ceremonies hurries over to him with another glass. "Another glass, sir?"

"Thank you, yes," he says, taking the glass. "Thank you, yes." He looks out at the guests put takes a long pause before speaking again. Everyone seems to be watching dad anxiously, and even Mrs Hudson and Lestrade seemed to have picked up that something is wrong. He seems distracted, but by what? "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Raising glasses and standing up. Very good. Thank you." Dad raises both hands and gestures downwards. "And down again." 

Confused, the guests start to sit down, murmuring amongst themselves. I lower my own glass as dad looks out at everyone. He lowers his glass to the table and straightens up. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech – get off early, leave 'em laughing. Wise advice I'll certainly try to bear in mind. But for now ..." He puts one hand on the table and vaults over to the other side, causing the guests gasp in surprise. "... Part two." Dad walks into the central aisle between the tables. From here, it almost looks as though he's scouting out the guests. "Part two is more action-based. I'm gonna ... walk around, shake things up a bit. Who'd go to a wedding? That's the question. Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding? Well, everyone. Weddings are great! Love a wedding."

"What's he doing?" Mary asks quietly.

"Something's wrong," John says looking out at dad with concern. He glances sideways at me. "Any ideas?"

"One," I say slowly. "What he said after he dropped the glass."

John thinks for a moment, but Mary comes in quickly. "'Here today'?"

"Mm," I nod, as dad continues to prattle along about weddings. "He was distracted. I've only seen him act like that when he was on the line between mind palace and reality. He's working something out." I see Mary's concerned look, and add, "And it has something to do with the guests."

"But we know everyone here, don't we?" John asks, and Mary nods in confirmation. 

Dad spins around and points to John as he starts to walk back down the aisle, silencing us. "And John's great, too! Haven't said that enough. Barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his ... jumpers ..." John closes his eyes in disbelief. "... And he can cook. Does ... a ... thing ... thing with peas ... once. Might not be peas. Might not be him. But he's got a great singing voice ... or somebody does." He sighs in frustration, his teeth clenched. "Ahh, too many, too many, too many, too many!" He takes a breath, gathering himself. "Sorry. Too many jokes about John! Now, er ... Where was I? Ah, yes ... Speech!" Dad points towards our top table. "Speech. Let's talk about  ... murder." My eyes widen as John sighs and Mary frowns. One of the guests are going to be murdered. "Sorry, did I say 'murder'? I meant to say 'marriage' – but, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and it's over when one of them's dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though. Janine!" Janine looks up suddenly in surprise beside me as dad goes to stand behind one of the male guests. "Acceptably hot? More importantly, his girlfriend's wearing brand-new uncomfortable underwear and hasn't bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket or point out the grease smudge on the back of his neck. Currently, he's going home alone. Also, he's a comics and sci-fi geek. They're always tremendously grateful – really put the hours in." He suddenly looks across to the table where Molly, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson are sitting. "Geoff, the gents." Lestrade looks over to him, and dad jerks his head towards the door. "The loos, now, please."