Chapter 7

John was pleased that he managed the two hours' sleep. Sometimes two hours' sleep was enough. At other times, it was all he was allowed and he just had to deal with that. Rosie woke him by actually slapping him on the face. He didn't think it was quite deliberate, but Rosie did have an air of purpose to her.

'Can we go and have breakfast now?' she asked. 'I'm too hungry.'

'OK. Let's see what we can find.'

He shuffled up to discover that his bags had been hastily repacked and brought into Sherlock's room. He was too tired to think through whether this would louse up crime scene analysis. He was just pleased to have something to wear. He put Rosie into clothes without bothering to bathe her and they went, hand in hand, to the dining room.

The atmosphere in the hotel was subdued. John noticed the staff doing their level best to be smiling and cheerful with the customers while looking worried or upset. Some were excitedly gossiping and there were one or two heads he'd like to bang together.

He'd just finished a large bacon sandwich and coffee while Rosie got to have breakfast cake (muffins) and milk in a tea-cup when Lestrade came in and dropped onto a chair at his table. A waiter who looked little more than a child rushed to serve him coffee, but Lestrade barely acknowledged him. He looked as depressed as John had ever seen him.

He waited for him to finish his coffee.

'Let's take Rosie for a walk in the grounds,' John said.

Lestrade dutifully followed him outside. They let Rosie run and jump ahead of them, occasionally stopping to run her little fingers over the delicate petal of a flower. Her mood remained exuberant and delighted by the world, and John noted Lestrade's eyes misting up as he watched her. They rounded the corner to the side of the hotel to find Sherlock sitting on a bench. He had a cigarette in his hand, but he stubbed it out as soon as Rosie appeared. He also looked thoroughly guilty that he'd been caught. Lestrade didn't even seem to notice as he sat down beside him.

'God,' he said, eventually. 'What a mess.'

'Where's Louisa now?' John asked sitting down with them.

Lestrade just shrugged. 'Somewhere about. She's spent the morning either comforting or being comforted. Annoyingly more of the former than the latter. Aida, the chef, she's distraught as she can be. She'd been having an affair with him. Had no idea.'

'I don't understand!' John said. 'I can see the mother's motive, but I can't see manager's!'

'That was also a love affair,' Sherlock said. 'Apparently, they had quite a love/hate thing going on and have done for quite some time. Promises were made. Sex was had. Henry was very popular indeed with quite a long list of the staff. At least two receptionists and a cleaner are sobbing over the bastard.'

'I still don't understand,' John said. 'There must have been ample opportunities to kill either one of the girls, but to choose to wait until just before the weddings? Why would anyone do such a thing?'

'Maybe more people than just Sherlock hate weddings,' Lestrade said, sniffing, and looking that if it weren't for Rosie turning cartwheels on the grass, he'd be begging a cigarette from Sherlock.

'No, it wasn't about the wedding; it was about the marriage,' Sherlock said. 'Alison had been well set up here. She'd been allowed to live in the house, have staff at her command, she was even drawing a salary, and neither daughter questioned it. Marriages complicated things. What if the new men wanted their wives to make more of the estate? What if there were children? What if they wanted to sell the place and start afresh?'

'I can certainly see the appeal,' Lestrade said. 'I don't half feel guilty that I put her in such danger. No, no,' he waved their protests away. 'I know I didn't. But I also feel that I did.'

'Alison's place here grew less secure the more people there were in the family,' Sherlock went on. 'That's undoubtedly why she wanted to wedding here, and not in London.'

'What will you do now?' John asked Lestrade.

'I don't know,' Lestrade said. 'I want to marry her right now. I'm terrified that she's going to want to postpone, but at the same time, I just want to drive her down to London had get married in a registry office. I just want her now, you know? I want to be her husband, and I want her to be my wife. I honestly don't care about all of this.' he waved at the hotel. 'I never have. It's not important. Not to me, at any rate. It bothers me how much it eats away at her though. I just want to take her away from it.' He blew out a long breath. 'At the end of the day, I'll do whatever makes her happiest.'

Rosie skipped towards them with something in her hands.

'Rosie petals for you!' she said, dropping some into John's hands, 'and for you, and for you!' as Sherlock and Lestrade got theirs. 'I'm being a flower girl!'

'Rosie,' Lestrade said. 'You are a very lovely girl. Thank you.'

'Though you probably shouldn't pick the petals from the roses,' John added.

'Mr Lestrade!' One of the concierges was pelting towards them from behind the hotel. 'Mr Lestrade! I think you need to… in the musical garden.'

Lestrade was up and after him with Sherlock on his heels. John picked up Rosie and ran with her, only realising halfway there that he probably shouldn't carry her to where trouble might be.

Fortunately, the trouble was fairly contained. Louisa was in the aviary, the door to the garden left wide open. She was wildly kicking at one of the wall panels. It was coming away slightly from its hinge, but not breaking free as yet. Lestrade went straight in, with Sherlock too, in case he was needed. John stayed where he was, keeping Rosie still.

He'd expected Lestrade to pull her into her arms to comfort her, but instead he stood by her side and kicked with her. His strength and weight got the job done, and the panel fell, bent and broken, to the floor.

Then Louise stopped, and then Lestrade held her while she sobbed.

'I don't know what to do!' she wailed. 'I'm so tired of it now!'

'I know,' Lestrade said, rocking her. 'I know. It's fine if you want to wait. We can take a little break. That's fine.'

'No,' she said. 'I just want to be married to you now! You're the one thing that makes sense in all of this!'

'Then we'll do that. OK? Take a deep breath now. Let's go back to the house, and we'll start calling registry offices in London or something. Or anywhere else. It doesn't matter to me. I don't even care if there's nobody else in the room! I just want to be married to you.'

Louisa took several deep breaths and went still.

'No,' she said. 'Let's not run away. This is my home! I was happy here! My parents and sister are buried in the grounds of the church I was confirmed in. The one I want to be married in. I want to be married in front of them. Is that morbid?'

'No,' Lestrade said, gently.

'I just want to get back all that I've lost somehow.'

'Then we can work towards that. Come on now. Let's just go somewhere and sit down in peace for a bit.'

She nodded and leant against him.

Sherlock was staring at them with that look he got when people were behaving in a way that he really didn't understand. John caught his eye and signalled him and he left the lovers where they were and came back out of the aviary and he and John walked slowly back to the front of the hotel.

'So, tell me again,' Sherlock said. 'Why, weddings?'

'No, you tell me this first; why did Henry come after me and Rosie?'

'Oh, he didn't. He's horrified now that he may have hurt Rosie, though he's less bothered about you. No, he was coming after me. It appears that he and Alison agreed that having me around might just cause problems with their plans.'

'But in my room? He was the manager! How would he not have known where we were sleeping?'

'He thought we'd switched. He came up yesterday morning and found me finishing breakfast and wandering around like I owned the place. Apparently, he assumed I might have had a tantrum and insisted on it. The mother also assumed I'd installed myself in the better room with some overblown sense of arrogance. I don't know why so many people misunderstand me!' He sighed. 'In any case, they came after me and not you.'

'Right.'

'Which obviously goes to show that you should always give me the better room.'

'Right.'

oOo

John watched Sherlock dance with Rosie. He got the impression that both thought they were dropping their skill level to accommodate the other. Mostly it was twirling. Twirling, laughing and some fairly impressive and surprising footwork from Sherlock that Rosie honestly thought she was copying foot for foot.

Molly came over and dropped down onto the seat beside him.

'You OK?' she asked.

'Mm.' He didn't look away from Rosie and Sherlock. 'You know, everything in my world is right there.' Then he startled and looked her. 'God, sorry! I don't know why weddings turn me soppy.'

'It's probably just that you had one and then…' she tailed off. 'Forget I started talking.'

He laughed. 'No, it's fine. And I still have those two. It's not as good as three, but it's still pretty good, when you think about it.'

'Yes. He doesn't make it easy, you know.'

'Mm?'

'Not to have a massive crush on him.'

'Oh dear. Still?'

'Yes, still. I've come to the conclusion that there'll never be a time when I'm not in love with him. But I'm also sort of OK with that.'

'Well, I think it's a bit of a shame.'

She jumped and looked at him. 'Really?'

'Oh, not for you, you understand. You should do and be whatever makes you happy, though personally I think you could do better. No, it's that young man over there that I'm thinking of. He can't take his eyes off you. He's going to go home lonely, and that's for sure.'

'John!' She pushed him gently. She also smiled at the young man.

They sat and watched the room for a while.

'I think I'm just going to refresh my drink,' Molly said. She went to the bar via the young man, and she took him with her.

Sherlock came over now, with Rosie hanging off him.

'I think we're tired now,' he said.

'I'm not tired!' Rosie said.

'Well, obviously, you're not tired,' Sherlock said. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. 'I am though. I think I need to go to bed. Will you come with me?'

The fact that his daughter had nearly been murdered in the Presidential Suite finally broke John, and he requested a change of room from the acting manager. He and Sherlock had been installed in another set of rooms with an adjoining door so that Rosie could walk from room to room and sleep in whichever bed so suited her that night.

She narrowed her eyes now. 'Is this some sort of a trick?' she asked.

'A little trick, yes. It's very late now though, and we've got a long day of playing on the beach ahead of us tomorrow, so I think I should come up to bed with you, and leave Daddy here to drink with his friends.'

He looked up to watch Greg and Louisa dance together, arm in arm, just rocking to the music. Lestrade looked as though he'd never let his wife go again.

'They will be all right, won't they?' Sherlock asked, gently.

'They will,' John replied. 'It's always hard when you find out that someone wants to kill your wife, but both would-be murderers are safely away, and Louisa is both strong and kind. With that, and Lestrade protecting her, that'll probably be enough.'

'I'm glad,' Sherlock murmured. 'He's a good man.'

'He is,' John replied. 'I'm glad too.'

They watched them dance a little longer, then Sherlock picked up the drooping Rosie and carried her up to bed.