Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Sign Of Three- Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

An orchestral rendition of the waltz 'On The Beautiful Blue Danube' by Johann Strauss II can be heard. In the foyer of the wedding venue, Sherlock and I waltz alone. "Why do we have to rehearse?"

"Because we are about to dance together in public for the first time." I look at him, raising my eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to do this with Janine or something?" He eye rolls but smiles nonetheless. "Can't a man spend time with his woman alone? I'm trying to make it up to you. I can tell when your jealous."

"Who said I was jealous?" Sherlock let's out a light laugh before kissing the side of my head. He's definitely going to be going caveman on me tonight! "I love you, Mr Holmes." I murmur, snuggling into him. "I should think so." Wrapping my arms around his neck I push up to my tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to his lips. Sherlock seemed to have other plans though because he holds me close, producing a kiss so raw and passionate. I gasp out a breath in surprise whilst he smiles, cheekily.

"And you are a brilliant dancer." He praises. "I'll let you in on something... I love dancing. From ballet to ballroom." He quirks a brow. "Watch out." I detach myself and look around the room before performing what humans call a 'difficult' ballet jump. The double cabriole. Landing with grace, I look to Sherlock, who smiles. "Show off!"

"Well of course I am, it's what we do." I gesture with my finger between us both. Sherlock then glances around the room before taking a sharp breath in. Swinging his arms to the left, he rises onto his left foot and does a full-circle pirouette. I clap, proudly and sarcastically. "Never really comes up in crime work." He mutters. "Well we can live in hope of the right case." I state. "Indeed." Pulling me close, He spins me round and I flick my leg up from behind.

"Well, glad to see you've pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot on my wedding day." Sherlock and I sway side to side, whilst John claps his hand on Sherlock's back. "One murder, one nearly murderer." Unfortunately our little dance was once again disturbed only this time by Lestrade. "Guys? Got him for you." Lestrade walks through with Bones waddling by his side. Sherlock claps his hands together like the big child I've grown to know. "Ah, the photographer. Excellent!"

"Thank you." I gesture to Greg. "Er, may I have a look at your camera?" Sherlock pulls the camera away from him. "What's this about? I was halfway home!"

"You should have driven faster." I murmured. We look to the screen and start flicking through pictures. "Ah, yes. Yes, very good. There, you see? Perfect."

"What is? You gonna tell us?"

"Try looking yourself." I sling the camera towards Greg, whilst John walks to his side. "Um, look for what?"

"Is the murderer in these photographs?"

"It's not what's in the photographs; it's what's not in the, not in any of them."

"Sherlock? The showing-off thing: we've discussed it before." John scolds. "There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph but can go anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around with him if he likes, and you never even see his face." I abbreviate. Sherlock walks closer to the photographer. "You only ever see..." Sherlock rapidly slaps one cuff of a pair of handcuffs around the photographer's wrist and the other cuff around the frame of a nearby birdcage luggage trolley. "The camera."

"What are you doing? What is this?" Sherlock holds up his mobile screen whilst explaining: "Jonathan Small, today's substitute wedding photographer, known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion. Jonny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto's staff, found what he needed an invitation to a wedding, the one time Sholto would have to be out in public. So, he made his plan and rehearsed the murder, making sure of every last detail. Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac, though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good." He tosses his phone to Greg. "Everything you need's on that. You probably ought to... Arrest him or something."

"Do you always carry handcuffs?" I ask and question at the same time. Sherlock links my arm through his, patting it twice. "Down, girl."

"Come on, quick!" Mary reaches her husbands side and John puts his arm around her as she turns and sees Small nearby. He is looking at Sherlock fixedly. "It's not me you should be arresting, Mr Holmes."

"Oh, I don't do the arresting. I just farm that out."

"Sholto, he's the killer, She is too." He points to me. I twist my head, slightly startled. Bones circles the front of me and starts growling lowly. "Not me. I should have killed him quicker. I shouldn't have tried to be clever." Sherlock closes in, face to face with Small. "You should have driven faster." He firmly spits.

Taking my arm again, we walk away with John, Mary and Bones in tow.