Why Sherlock?

The Great Game {10}

KENNY PRINCE'S HOUSE.
In a beautifully and elegantly decorated house, a hairless cat meows as it wanders about on a sofa in the living room. Kenny Prince, a man in his late fifties who is wearing a very fancy purple shirt (which will never match Sherlock's PSOS), comes into the room. Behind him, the houseboy, Raoul stops at the doorway and gestures for us to go in.

"We're devastated. Of course we are."

As John and I walk into the living room, Kenny reaches the other side of the room and turns back, propping his arm on the mantelpiece. Looking a little uncomfortable, John sits down on the far left of the sofa. I sat next to him and the cat is on my right.

"Can I get you anything, sir? Ma'am?"

"Er, no. No, thanks." John replied politely, whilst I shook my head and quietly watched. Raoul looks across the room to Kenny, who smiles at him. Raoul returns the smile, then turns and leaves the room.

"Raoul is my rock. I don't think I could have managed..." He looks down sadly. "We didn't always see eye to eye, but my sister was very dear to me."

The cat climbed onto John's lap and meows loudly in protest when he picks it up and puts it down beside him.

"And- and to the public, Mr. Prince?"

"Oh, she was adored. I've seen her take girls who looked like the back end of Routemasters and turn them into princesses. Still, it's a relief in a way to know that she's beyond this vale of tears."

John is nervously holding the cat while it purrs contentedly on his lap, after climbing back onto him. I tried not to giggle. Kenny moves his fingers together and leans back onto the mantelpiece.

"Absolutely..." John says awkwardly, I cover my mouth as I giggled loudly this time, and John shoots me a look.

***

~John's P.O.V~

Kenny is still standing by the fireplace, looking thoughtfully at a framed photograph of Connie holding her tele award. (Y/n) has been quietly watching Kenny and looking at the house. She reminds me of Sherlock, but nicer. In a way, she's more human than he is...

"It's more common than people think. The tetanus is in the soil, people cut themselves on rose bushes, garden forks, that sort of thing. If left un..." I look down at my notebook as I speak and look up in surprise when Kenny, who has walked across the room unnoticed, now plops himself heavily down onto the sofa beside (Y/n) and stares at us intensely. "...treated..."

"I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"Right." (Y/n) responds.

"I mean, she's left me this place, which is lovely..." (Y/n) looks around the living room with her eyes narrowed, apparently not agreeing how 'lovely' the place might be. "...but it's not the same without her."

(Y/n) fidgets as she tries to move further away from Kenny, but unable to do so.

"Th-that's why our paper wanted to get the, um, the full story straight from... you. You sure it's not too soon?" She asks.

"No... You fire away."

The cat meows and trots across the carpet. Watching it, I reach up to rub the side of my nose. As I pull my hand away again I suddenly realize something and quickly raise my hand to my nose, pretending to rub it while quietly sniffing at my fingers and looking towards the cat again. I smile round nervously at Kenny. "Will you excuse me for a minute? I've got to make a call to our um... Cameraman."

"Yes, yes of course. I'll just have small talk with your lovely friend here."

"Right... I won't be long." I make my way outside and call Sherlock.