A/N Holmes and company belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
A/N This epilogue took a rather unexpected twist as I was writing, almost as if it had a mind of its own. So I decided to break it up into two separate chapters.
I heard Holmes before I saw him. He ran up the steps and then burst through the door, making about as much noise as he possibly could. He stopped short when he entered, pausing to smooth his coat and hair and to slow his breathing. Holmes was in good shape, so I knew that he had run a good while to be so out of breath, but here he was before me, stopping to smooth his appearance. It was quite comical.
It was only on rare occasions that Holmes ever expended so much energy at one time, so I knew that something of the utmost importance must have taken place.
When he finally spoke, it was as if the man who entered had vanished and the Holmes I knew was back in place; the familiarity of the cold calculating mind replacing the strangeness of the exuberant spirit that had previously entered. There was no emotion on his face or in his voice. He had effectively removed all trace of excitement from his being. "Watson, I have here in my hand a telegram from Scotland Yard. It seems that they have apprehended Lennox, due in no small part to your description of the man. They found him in Portsmouth, preparing to board a ship to France."
Holmes had run to the flat to tell me something, and something this insignificant would not have affected him so greatly. I also knew that he had a love for the dramatic, so I knew he was keeping something from me. "Holmes, I'm sure that there's more than that. The capture of such a minor character would not be cause enough for you to be out of breath."
Holmes' countenance brightened as he laughed. "You know me too well, Watson. There is indeed more. This telegram from the Yard also informs me that Mycroft was forced to relocate the royal gathering. They had reason to believe that Lennox sent word to others regarding the location of the original meeting. And when Mycroft was considering a new location, he felt that there was no safer place to hold this meeting than here."
"Here?! As in right here in this very room?"
"Yes. The meeting is tonight at seven o'clock."
"My God Holmes, do you know what this means?"
There was laughter dancing in his eyes when he spoke. "Watson, did you really just ask me that?"
"Right… Well then…"
"I thought you might like to know in case you cared to clean this place a bit and to notify Mrs. Hudson. I'm going out again, but I will be back for the meeting."
"Holmes?! Don't you even care that the Queen of England will be gracing our doorstep in five hours?"
"Watson, it wouldn't be the first time that royalty has visited our humble flat." And with that, he was gone.
He was right when he said that this wouldn't be the first time that we'd entertained royalty at 221B Baker Street. He'd once had the King of Bohemia call on his services. And Holmes had not given the man any special treatment whatsoever. I hoped that he would at least have the good graces to be a gentleman in front of our guests.
In the course of four and a half hours, I had cleaned the flat from top to bottom and Mrs. Hudson was putting the finishing touches on a feast fit for royalty. I was just rearranging some books when Holmes returned. He was wearing a sharp black suit and top hat combination that accentuated his lean height.
I found myself laughing. "Well, Holmes, you clean up rather nicely."
"I'm glad you think so. The flat does, too."
"Thank you."
"I suggest that you go and change, my good man. Mycroft is on his way here with our guests as we speak."
I quickly replaced the books that I had been fiddling with, and made my way to my room. I picked out a black suit that I'd just had cleaned, and my best pair of shoes, and proceeded to make myself as presentable as possible.
Shortly before seven o'clock, our guests arrived. Holmes and I were at the door to greet them and invite them in. Queen Victoria, Lord Robert Cecil, President Loubet, and King Alfonso VIII all gathered in our flat that night to discuss international relations and various other political issues. Holmes was never one for politics, but he feigned an interest so he would not appear rude. Mycroft was very involved in the meeting, often clarifying things and making suggestions. And I just sat in my chair, overwhelmed by the fact that there was a royal gathering going on in our sitting room.
After a few hours of discussion, the conversation turned away from politics. It was Queen Victoria who turned the conversation. "I want to personally thank you, Mr. Holmes, and you, Dr. Watson, for your part in exposing Professor Moriarty's plot and in rescuing Mycroft." The fact that she addressed Mycroft so informally was not lost on even me. "All of us are very much indebted to the both of you for what you have done." As I scanned the faces of Lord Robert Cecil, President Loubet, and King Alfonso VIII, I noticed that they were all nodding their agreement to what the Queen had stated.
"Think nothing of it, Queen Victoria. Watson and I would have stopped at nothing to free Mycroft from the hand of Moriarty. In fact, it was Watson who saved the day this time."
"Is this true, Dr. Watson?"
I blushed. "It is, although it came at a very high price."
"I think all of us here agree when I say that we would like to hear the details of the encounter and how it came about. Dr. Watson, I've read your accounts of Mr. Holmes' cases and adventures; I would very much like to hear this one firsthand."
"It… It would be my pleasure, your majesty." I had heard Mycroft and Holmes discuss their respective sides of the story during the cab ride back to Baker Street on the fateful night, so I knew what had happened on Mycroft's side, as well as our own. "But before I start, I must ask you, Mycroft, is it alright with you if I tell the story? Or would you rather tell it yourself?"
"I've read your stories and I rather enjoyed them, and I imagine that your speech is just as effective. I would much rather you tell it. And beside, I am a rather poor story-teller."
"If you insist."