I still own nothing!
Another tale for my wife, who does speak Spanish and look's daft when she does!
Please review!
Set 5 months after the end of the Regents Park Murder
The woman was speaking fluent Spanish, her mannerisms were purely Mediterranean, her dress was pure Andalucian, but her hair was bright blonde, and her skin had the pale luminance of the new moon. No one seemed to notice the night was hot, most people at the party were drunk and the woman danced, oh how she danced, like she was born to flamenco. Her odd skin and hair seemed only visible to one man, he watched her swirling and dancing with the tall Guardia Civil officer she had been sent to spy on. The watcher was smiling gently but calculating how long it was going to take her to finish her assignation. He had been following her for three days and his had been the closest he'd got, she was clever and she was careful but at a party like this sober and as alert as she was her carefully constructed barriers were holed.
She stole the Guardia officers phone, he was drunk he would think he'd lost it while at the party, and she'd collected enough information from her would be lover that with the phone her bosses could bring his ETA branch down to his knees. Now all she had to do was slip out of the back door of the finca, collect her belongings from the Alfa Romeo Coupe 33 Stradale parked at the end of the farm track, and travel to her rendevieu at Huerta del Prado. She told her tall officer to meet her beside the finca's well in 5 minutes, and then winking slunk off in the direction of her hosts kitchen. Once out of her chosen door she breathed a sigh of relief, stopping briefly to remove her high heels and shawl, she wrapped the phone inside and placed the whole package inside the empty metal lechera by the front door. Then with a look behind her hurried off towards the car. As she opened the coupe's door her watchers hand closed around her mouth, his other pushing the sedative syringe into her arm. The last thing Lucy heard was his voice mocking her.
"Won't Sherlock be surprised that we've finally met, Mrs Holmes?"
Donovan came to collect John from the interview room where he'd been busy finishing off his statement in quiet. Sherlock had been sent to another separate interview room at John's request, he was annoying and distracting and kept adding stupid comments to John's account. She was flustered, even John with his exhausted body and fatigued brain, suffering after 3 days of running around London after the latest case, could see this. He asked her what was wrong but she told him a man was waiting in reception to collect him and Sherlock, and they had been told to facilitate their removal as quickly as possible. John looked at her incredulously, "What did Sherlock say?" he asked her.
"Nothing as yet, we're letting you tell him." She laughed and hurried him out of the door the witness statement forgotten on the metal table.
It was less than five minutes later that John and Sherlock where secured in the back of the black Mercedes, with 'not' Anthea tapping on her Blackberry. She wouldn't tell them anything, but Sherlock had already deduced they were going to one of Mycroft's out of town offices. That something was dreadfully wrong and that for once Mycroft genuinely needed his help. Sherlock was pleased with his deductions until the car suddenly sped up and then he sat up straight and grabbed John's knee.
"Suzanne?" he addressed 'not' Anthea, who looked up mildly surprised he's guessed today's identity, "Why are we going to Mummy's?"
"I really have no idea" she lied.
Sherlock was genuinely nervous now, he hadn't been to the mansion since the boy's birthday five months previously, and then it had been to face a Holme's family trial. Since then he and John had avoided the family, as their relationship had deepened. The thought of subjecting his lover to another bashing from Lady Holme's drove him to distraction. He riled at 'Suzanne' and at John, but after an hour the car slowed as they pulled onto country roads, and after half an hour they pulled onto gravel and up to the Holme's mansion. The car door opened, and to John's surprise Sherlock's two young son's flung themselves into their shocked father's arms.
As Sherlock and John extracted themselves from the car, baby John, in his namesakes arms, and Simon grasping Sherlock's hand, they looked up towards the house expecting to see Lucy's beaming face. However all that met them was a grey faced Mycroft and a man whom neither had seen before. Sherlock looking at him deduced he was director MI6.
"Sherlock, John" Mycroft called his overly friendly voice contrasting with the look on his face.
"Where is she Mycroft?" Sherlock interrupted, glaring at the tall man beside his brother.
"Well Mr Holmes" the tall man drawled "we were hoping you might be able to tell us that."
John looked between the three men, confused, then Simon tugged on his hand, and took his attention away.
"Mummy was kidnapped in Spain, and Uncle Mycroft thinks you and Daddy will be able to get her back" he hesitated as the adults attention was fixed on the precocious 8 year old, "From Moriarty."
TBC
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Love and virtual cupcakes for those who do!
BTW you can't stop me writing these even if you don't like them, because I love my wife!