The Judge calls it a day shortly afterwards, his temper now significantly shortened, he takes it out on the barristers.
"What did I say?" John lectures as dad signs for his personal property after putting up a surety to bail him out. "I said, 'Don't get clever.'"
"I can't just turn it on and off like a tap," dad mutters, taking the bag handed to him by the custody officer. He turns to me as we walk away. "Well?"
"Well what?" I ask.
"You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish."
"Like we said it would be," I say, remembering Moriarty's barrister. "He sat on his backside, never even stirred."
"Moriarty's not mounting any defence," dad says thoughtfully.
"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville," John says as we walk through the doors to the living room at Baker Street. "Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no-one knows how or why." He sits down in his armchair while dad begins to pace. "All we know is ..."
"... he ended up in custody." He stops pacing and turns to John who sighs.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"The look."
"Look?" I frown, looking at dad.
"You're both doing it," John says exasperated.
"Well, I can't see it, can I?" dad moans and John pointedly gestures to the mirror as if dad is an idiot for not realising it's there. Dad turns and looks at his reflection. "It's my face."
"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a 'we both know what's really going on here' face."
"Well, we do."
"No. I don't, which is why I find 'The Face' so annoying."
"If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them," I explain. "If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there. Somehow this is part of his scheme."