Sophia Holmes and the Scandal in Belgravia *Completed*

Chapter Eighteen - The Six Thatchers Part II

"What've you two done now?" Mrs Hudson compains as we arrive back at Baker Street.

"You don't want to know Mrs H," John says, scowling at me. "You really don't."

"Oh dear," she says, putting an arm on my shoulder. "You can tell me all about it later."

"We have a client?" Dad frowns, smiles, then pushes past as he runs up the stairs.

"Look at him," Mrs Hudson says, tutting and shaking his head. "Off you go then." She moves out of the way to let me pass and I gallop up the stairs myself.

Waiting for us to come back is a young woman, University art student at a guess. She's standing up when I enter, introducing herself.

"Sally Barnicot," she smiles, holding a hand out for him to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Holmes, I just wish it had been under better circumstances."

"Obviously not that much of a pleasure," dad remarks, eyeing her clothes, "you would have changed before coming out to meet me. You still have paint on your shirt and on your face. Probably an improvement."

"Sherlock!" John hisses and dad sighs.
"Fine," he says, "what do you want?"

"Erm," she says, her confidence now knocked slightly, "well, a murder recently took place at Uni ..."

"The Colchester Conundrum?" I question, recieting the heading from the newspaper a couple of days ago.

"Yeah," she says. "He was my best friend - Pietro Venucci. Beppo found him stabbed in the pottery room."

"Beppo Rovito?" I confirm, recalling the name. "He was Pietro's boyfriend, wasn't he?" Sally nods.

"Yeah," she nods. "And I know what you're thinking: must have had a lovers tiff and killed him - I thought that myself. But the police have already been there, Miss Holmes, and they couldn't find anything. They couldn't find a murder weapon on him or anywhere within the room so in the end, they released him from custody. And it couldn't have been him - the window had been smashed. Somebody broke in."

"Not necessarily," dad says. "He could have made it look as though there was a break-in to cover up."

Sally looks at dad pleadingly. "Please. He was my friend." Dad coughs pointedly and she sighs. "Fine, maybe I wanted it to go further," she says, "but God knows that would never happen. Will you help me?" He pauses for a moment, thinking, then looks to me. I shrug in response. We haven't had a case in a while. Dad looks back up, a glimmer in his eye.

"The game is on."