Chapter 11

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Well first things first, I am so sorry its taken me so long to update, but I have seen your comments and I am hopefully gonna make you happy.  I'll promise I'll keep writing a lot more, if I don't then you have my permission to hunt me down and force me to write, but I have some ideas now and I will get this book done!!!!!!! 😂😂😂
A/N: I don't own any of these characters apart from Ellen
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We arrived at the back of The Ritz and we were escorted by Mycroft's men towards the scene of the theft. On our way there Sherlock lagged, assessing everything as he followed Mycroft and me however when we arrived at the room he was gone.

"Where the bloody hell has he gone now? Mycroft said in anger and stomps down the hallway away from me and the crime scene. One of the body guards opened the door for me and I stepped inside the lavish suite, gazing at the grandeur of the four-posted bed and Victorian wallpaper that was decorated with various portraits.

Since I had been deserted I decided to get on with my own investigation.

I returned to the door that currently the body guard was patrolling.

'Urm may I?' I asked the big hefty guy. He nodded and moved.

I inspected the lock and ran my hands over it, although the door can be opened by a magnetic key card there was still a traditional lock. There was no sign of a breakage on the key card pad yet however the traditional lock had been tempered with, perhaps with a metal object heavy enough to force open the lock.

My instincts lead me to turn away from the door and now look into the room, I crouched as if I was the thief and crawled along the floor, I ignored the grunt from the bodyguard. I stopped for a moment and noticed on my left side, just two feet away from the door that there was a chest of draws. Another instinct told me to look underneath it, and my suspicions were true. Underneath the old chest was a long thin metal rod, well part of it. I used the cuff of my blouse to pull the object from under the chest as so not to ruin any fingerprints, because if my hunch was right, this was what was used to get inside.

Suddenly I heard a high pitch French voice from behind me, I got off the floor as soon as possible and shoved the metal rod into my bag.

'Helloooo, room service,' the heavy accented voice said.

'I am sorry sir you cannot come in here, plus no one ordered room service,' the bodyguard said completely confused. I turned around at this moment and came face to face with a tall slender waiter pushing a white table with fancy dinnerware on it.

The waiter looked up at me, and I recognised those eyes instantly, Sherlock! I had to stop myself from saying his name out loud and giving away his disguise. I also had to suppress a giggle as I spotted his moustache and soul patch that looked like it had been coloured with a sharpie. How the hell was the bodyguard falling for this.

'Oh no silly me, must be wrong room, Au Revoir,' he waved as he started to pull the trolley back into the hallway. I started to follow suite and slowly followed him.

'I seem to be done here, tell Mycroft I hope he finds Sherlock and that I have taken a cab home. There seems to be nothing of importance here.' I waved the bodyguard down and left the room.

Sherlock and I waited till we were at the elevator doors before we spoke.

'May I ask, why a waiter?' Again, I tried to suppress a giggle as he looked rather ridiculous up close.

'Well Ellen, waiters are usually overlooked, and you can learn a lot of secrets when you are just a measly French creep,' he smiled at me and pushed the trolley into the elevator. 'Anyway, how did you recognise me, I even managed to get through Mycroft.'

'I smiled, hm, to be honest I don't know. Lucky guess?' I said shrugging, trying to show I haven't been analysing his face since I first met him.

'Or maybe something else,' he said in wonder, as the elevator doors closed.

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