Sophia Holmes and His Last Vow (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty Two - His Last Vow Part XII

The next few months pass quickly. Dad's near-death experience courtesy of Mary has made me realise that I can't bear to live without him, so I use a small sum of my winnings from the Silver Blaze case to terminate my contract for the house in North Gower and move back into Baker Street. He might be a pain in the arse, but I can't risk losing out on more time with him. 

Mary and I make our peace over dinner near the end of September, and we exchange stories of my cases and her missions and end the evening closer than ever. This leads me to become a kind of intermediary for the Watsons in the following months. John, having moved out of his place fairly quickly, often needed me to return to pick up some fresh clothes, while Mary would often use me to deliver messages. 

In November, John moves back in with Mary, but from the way that he still spends most of his time with us, it doesn't take a genius to realise that they still haven't worked things out between them. 

To try and put things straight, dad invites them both along to spend the Christmas period with my grandparents, probably with the idea that showing them the perfect model of marriage will help patch things up. 

"Sophie, darling, how are you dear?" grandma says as I emerge through the barrier at the train station, but before I can respond, I'm pulled into a hug.

"I'm good, thank you," I say, pecking her on the cheek as she moves to fuss over dad.

"Oh and Sherlock! My poor boy."

Dad gives her a tight smile as he also gets sucked into an embrace, and he rolls his eyes at me over her shoulder. 

"John, Mary. Lovely to see you both. My, you're looking big, Mary." Mary smiles. "When's it due?"

"February," she answers, rubbing the top of her belly. 

"Ah, no chance of a Christmas baby then! Right, come along then you lot. I've parked just outside." She lead us out and we pack our suitcases into the back of the jeep before enduring the half an hour ride in uncomfortable silence, only broken up with grandma's one-sided conversation about the dwindling bee population and her rose bushes. 

Eventually, we pull up outside and I look out the window curiously at the house. The outside walls are painted a warm red and the doorway framed by hanging baskets. A long front garden leads up to the front door, the turf recently trimmed.

"It's beautiful," Mary compliments, speaking my thoughts, as we get out.

"Thank you, dear. It's been a work in progress for many years. Do you have much of a garden at your place?"

"In London?" Mary says, smiling. "No chance."

"That's a shame. My boys always loved playing outside. Ah, there's the husband!"

Grandpa appears at the doorway with a broad smile. "Hello everyone. The table's set for one, so you have time to unpack upstairs before coming down." He looks around at everyone, suddenly concerned. "You all eat meat, yes?"

We all nod our agreement and he heads back inside. Grandma goes to follow him, but then suddenly turns back around to dad.

"Mycroft's here already, Sherlock." I go to share an incredulous look with dad, but then realise as I turn that he's not surprised by the news. "I think he wanted a word with you before dinner."

"Right, thank you," dad says, but stays behind as grandma leads us inside to show us to our rooms. I drop back as well.

"You didn't say Mycroft was coming."

"It was a last minute thing," dad replies.

Grandma pokes her head back out. "Everything okay out here?"

"Fine thanks," I reply. "I didn't know Mycroft was coming down, is all."

"Ah yes. Not usually one for festive celebrations, is our Mycroft. I don't know how Sherlock talked him around into doing it."

Dad shifts uncomfortably, and I look around in surprise. "Dad invited him?"

"Yes dear," grandma frowns. "This whole get-together was his idea." She disappears back inside, and I turn back to dad, giving him an expectant look.

"We didn't get a chance to properly celebrate Christmas last year, and I thought it would be nice for you to spend some time here."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not an idiot, dad. I can tell when you're lying. You wouldn't willingly spend time with Mycroft on any day of the year, but now you want me to believe that you're perfectly happy spending half a week with him?" I lower my voice. "And why exactly has John brought his gun?"

Dad's eyes finally meet mine, and he swallows. "I was hoping to do it without you. I've struck a deal with Magnussen. Mycroft's laptop for Mary's files."

"And Lady Smallwood's?" Dad nods. "You do know that's a stupid idea, don't you? You're playing right into his hands. He's only doing all of this to get at Mycroft, and you're simply handing it to him?"

"The laptop's password protected. I have no intention of giving it to him."

"But he can get it cracked - he could force me to do it for him." I pause for a moment. "There's a tracker, isn't there?"

Dad nods. "We only need to buy ourselves a little bit of time. We'll have the files by the time Mycroft comes to extract us."

I nod, not completely on board but aware that I can't exactly stop him. But as I'm unpacking my suitcase in my room a few minutes later, I remember what Mary said a few months ago about Magnussen not keeping paper copies in his office. We just have to hope he keeps them at home, or else we're going to be in serious trouble.