Dusk was beginning to fall. A cool, evening breeze brushed past your bare arms and you crossed your arms in a futile attempt to retain warmth as you walked beside Lestrade, following a disgruntled, curly-haired wedding photographer back to the reception venue.
You were with Lestrade ever since you both left in the midst of Sherlock's speech, monitoring the area for anything odd. So far, the only thing you were aware of was that Major Sholto, John's old commanding officer, had been injured. You had texted Sherlock multiple times for any updates on what you assumed was a possible murder situation only to get a vague text from him just a few minutes ago:
Need to speak to the photographer ASAP.
"What does he want with the photographer?" Lestrade whispered, sounding as puzzled as you felt.
"No idea," you replied, feeling slightly awful at being left out of the fun. The more rational side of your brain reminded you that you were dealing with the possible murder of an ex-commanding officer and not a missed trip to the park.
The three of you approached the entrance to the venue and Lestrade opened the door to usher the photographer in and you following behind him.
"Sherlock? Got him for you!"
Sherlock, John, and Janine were in the reception area, presumably waiting for the three of you to arrive.
Sherlock clapped his hands at the sight of the photographer, "Ah, the photographer, excellent! Thank you," he directed to you and Lestrade, sending a small smile along your way.
You smiled back in return, excited at the prospect of getting some answers. This was always your favourite part, where everything would start to make sense as he went over the details of the case despite the fact that he could never do it without being pompous and showing off.
Sherlock strode over towards the photographer and gestured at the camera in his hands, "May I have a look at your camera?"
"What's this about? I was halfway home!" he said sounding annoyed, albeit a little anxious as he begrudgingly handed him the camera.
"You should have driven faster," Sherlock said, as he took hold of the camera and started flicking through the pictures displayed on the screen.
"Ah, yes. Yes, very good. There, you see?" he smiled to himself in pleasure as looked at the photographs. "Perfect."
"What is? You gonna tell us?" Lestrade cried out in annoyance; he was just as eager to know as the rest of the group.
"Try looking yourself," Sherlock said, tossing the camera over to Lestrade.
You leaned over his arm to look at the screen on the camera as John and Janine dashed over to have a look as well.
"What are we looking for?" you asked, no doubt voicing out what everyone else was thinking.
"Hang on, is the murderer in these photographs?" John asked, pointing towards the camera.
"It's not what's in the photographs, it's what's not in them – not in any of them." Sherlock retorted confidently as he stood a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Sherlock? The showing-off thing, we've discussed it before."
Sherlock paused, his eyes twinkling in anticipation for the exposé he was about to relay. It was almost impossible to believe that the man stood before you was the same man who fumbled with giving a best man's speech. But here he was, confident and magnificent than ever before when placed in his own habitat.
"There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph but can go anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around with him if he likes, and you never even see his face," Sherlock said, stepping closer to the group huddled around the camera.
It's what's not in them ... the photographer - oh!
"Oh!"
"Oh, yes!" Sherlock cried excitedly, and in a blink of an eye, he had handcuffed the photographer to a nearby concierge trolley.
"You only ever see the camera," Sherlock said in a lower voice this time, as he defiantly grinned at the photographer standing face to face with him.
"What are you doing? What is this?" he exclaimed, pulling at the handcuffs.
"Jonathan Small, today's substitute wedding photographer – known to us as the Mayfly Man."
Sherlock quickly explained the motive behind Jonathan Small's failed attempt at murdering Major Sholto, who was made aware that Sholto would make a rare appearance at John's wedding and saw it as an opportunity to lay out a plan to seek revenge for his brother's untimely death.
"- brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac, though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good."
"It surprisingly is," you said in awe, as you spotted the picture of you and Sherlock from earlier that day. You had an awkward smiled plastered on your face in the photograph, and so did Sherlock. Nevertheless it really was a nice photograph when considering the fact that they were taken by a would-be murderer.
"Everything you need is on that," Sherlock said, tossing his phone to Lestrade. "You probably ought to ... arrest him or something."
You grabbed the phone from Lestrade's hand who then let out a huff, curious as to what information Sherlock had acquired regarding Small.
"It's not me you should be arresting, Mr Holmes," Small said in a low voice. You looked up as you heard the shift in the tone of his voice to see that his entire demeanour had shifted too; his jaw had tightened, and his eyes glimmered dangerously as they fixated on Sherlock.
"Oh, I don't do the arresting, I just farm that out."
"Sholto, he's the killer, not me. I should have killed him quicker," Small retorted, and a small shiver went down your back as his eyes darkened and he grinned maniacally. "I shouldn't have tried to be clever."
"You should have driven faster," Sherlock said slowly and in a low voice, sounding just as menacing as Small.
Sherlock crooked one arm to Janine who took it without any question. He did the same with his other arm and it took you a while to realise who he was offering it to.
"Oh, er -" you hesitated, quickly glancing at Lestrade; you did not want to leave him to deal with the criminal on his own.
"Go ahead, I'll be right behind you guys after I sort this one out," Lestrade said seeing your hesitation and offering you an encouraging smile before turning to face Small.
You smiled at Sherlock and took his extended arm, and the three of you followed the newlyweds into the main reception room.
"You don't get a day off, do you?" you teased, looking up at Sherlock, who only replied with a smirk.
YOU ARE READING
The Sign of Three: A Reader's Journey
Fanfiction"They're in love, they look happy," you said, sighing softly as you watched Mary offer John a bite of her canapés. "Cocaine is cheaper and would also induce the same effect." The man was brutally cynical and there was nothing you could say to change...
