Classroom 223-a Sherlock fanfiction

Chapter 5 (Rosie's POV)

I've just come back from the hospital, and after a few hours of waiting impatiently, they've managed to stitch up my back. This means I'll be at school next week and I'm already dreading it, at least I'll have Mr Woodbridge. In a couple of hours we'll be going to the Old Wellington to see this former MI5 spy, Sylvia Wellsbrough, about the British Government information. I bet all it is going to be is the fact that Mycroft stole cake from Buckingham Palace or something ridiculous like that.

Sherlock puts on his long black trench coat, pulling up the collar completing his 'Mysterious look' as my Dad likes to call it. He then proceeds to grab my coat and help me put it on by getting my arms in and doing up the buttons. My coat is this beautiful green shade that reaches my knees and has a hood with buttons to do it up. It was a present from Sherlock after helping him solve my first cage while I was 4. However, at the time he didn't know how long it would be but at least it fits me now. Dad comes in wearing his usual jet black puffy coat with a golden zip. "You ready?" He asks me as Sherlock is pulling his leather gloves over his hands. "Ready."

We stand outside 221b in the cold winters evening as Sherlock waves to an oncoming cab. We all bundle inside, Sherlock and Dad at the back and me opposite them. "Sylvia Wellsbrough. I did some research. Former MI5 spy, found some classified information on our Government and was fired immediately afterwards. Whatever this information may be, many people out here will stop at nothing to obtain it. That's why we need to get it back as soon as possible." Sherlock explains to me and Dad. "Just left here please." He directs the driver. "Now I will speak to Sylvia while you two sit on a nearby table keeping a double eye out in case anything happens. Be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. John, did you-"
"Yes of course I brought my gun."
"Right then, let's go."

We arrive at the Old Wellington pub after around 15 minutes in the taxi. It's a proper vintage pub on the corner of Wellington Lane, hence where it got its name. The pub is bustling on the inside and out with groups of drunk people shouting flamboyantly everywhere with glasses in there hands. "Keep close Rosie." Dad warns, taking my hand. Sherlock enters the pub, keeping the door open for me and Dad to go through. I can tell that Sherlock immediately notices who Sylvia is as he eyes her sharply and turns around to me and John. "That's her. Remember what I said? I reserved a table for you over there. Wait for my instructions." He says quietly, pointing over to a velvet couch with a coffee table opposite the bar. We both walk over and sit down on the couch, trying not to look suspicious and awaiting further instructions from Sherlock. I peer over John's shoulder to see that Sherlock is already engaged in conversation with Sylvia, real smooth. "How is Mr Woodbridge then? What's he like? Next time you see him, give him my thanks for helping you." Dad asks, curious  about my maths tutor. "Sure. Um-he's extremely nice but shy, first aider, 174 cm tall, in his late 30s, from London, clever, wears glasses, has strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes." I repeat the 'deductions' I made or attempted to do earlier. "What a nice bloke." Dad says nodding. I have a sudden urge to ask Dad about my mother and now may be my chance. I decide to risk it. "Um-Dad...can you tell me about my mother." I ask wincing wondering how he will react. Dad looks lost for words as he looks down, avoiding eye contact. "Rosie...not now please." He sighs, sounding sour. "Sorry-it's just-." I am stopped in my tracks as Sherlock walks over with Sylvia and interrupts us. "Sylvia, this is my partner John Hamish Watson and our daughter Rosamund Holmes Watson."
He says greeting us to Sylvia as she smiles. "Sylvia Ann Wellsbrough. Nice to meet you both," she shakes me and my Dad by the hand, "Sherlock has explained to me about everything with Mycroft."
"Yes. We'll be visiting Sylvia's house via taxi. Let's go." Sherlock says contentedly, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from my seat. John hops up and joins us as we exit the pub and leave for Sylvia's house.