Sophia Holmes and the Empty Hearse (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

The best view of London by far is from on top the Department of Energy and Climate Change in Whitehall. It's just at the right height that I can see over most of the buildings, yet still pick out the individual people below and breathe in the London air. I've missed this.

We stay there, gazing over all of London for a while before heading over to the Landmark Hotel to find John. I'm not convinced dad knows yet how he's going to reveal himself, but I hope for his sake he does it gently because John may react the same as I did.

We hold our coats out for the staff at the door to take and walk in. The maître d' steps forward to greet us.

"Sir, ma'am, may I help you?"  A text alert beeps on the man's phone and dad goes into full deduction mode.

"Your wife just texted you," he says quickly. "Possibly her contractions have started."

I grin at dad as the man fishes his phone out of his pocket, looks at the screen and hurries away. Dad smiles smugly to himself.

"That felt good," he says. I roll my eyes and start surveying the tables before finding John sitting alone at a table at the far end of the restaurant, his back to the door.

"He's over there," I say, pointing him out with a nod. Dad's eyes rest on him, but he hesitates.

A waitress picks up some menus from the bar and walks across in front of us.

"'Scuse me, sir," she says and I see dad's attention drawn to her neck, or rather her bowtie that she's wearing as part of her uniform.

"Waiters?" dad says quietly to me and I nod to confirm.

"Waiters."

We split off in different directions as I begin to gather what I need, namely a bowtie and a menu. There's a table nearby where a couple are sitting. The man has his back to the door, but I can see the reflection of his bowtie in the water glass on his left. Gotcha. I walk forward towards him and as I get there, pick up the glass of water as if to refill it but instead knock the contents over his front. The man recoils and cries out in shock.

"Sorry!" I say quickly. "I'm so, so sorry!" The man lifts his napkin from his lap and starts mopping himself with it, but I step behind him and pull the napkin higher up his chest. "Please, let me just go to the kitchen and, er, dry that off for you." With my hand shielded by the napkin I'm able to pull the bowtie off in one smooth tug before walking away, fixing it around my own neck as I do so.

I catch a glimpse of dad between the tables picking up a menu and a pair of glasses from a man who waves him away without paying him any attention. He starts moving towards John so I grab a menu from the bar and head follow him over. I realise, much to my amusement, that dad has pencilled a small moustache over his top lip out of what looks to be an eyeliner pencil, and I exchange a smile of disbelief with him as we approach the table.

"Can I 'elp you with anything, sir?" dad says, addressing John in his attempt at a French accent, but in reality sounds more like something from ''Allo 'Allo!'.

"Hi, yeah," John says, not looking around. "I'm looking for a bottle of champagne – a good one."

Dad leans closer in attempt to get recognised. "Mmm! Well, these are all excellent vintages."

"Er, it's not really my area," John replies. "What do you suggest?"

Dad's accent becomes a little Captain du Creff-esque as he continues. "Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but, erm, if you'd like my personal recommendation ..."

"Mm-hm."

Dad gestures at the list with his eyeliner pencil. "... this last one on the list is a favourite of mine." John nods, still not looking up at us. Dad straightens up. "It is – you might, in fact, say – like a face from ze past." He takes off his glasses and waits expectantly, but I have to stifle a laugh as John still refuses to look round.