Meanwhile, John was still shrieking at George, and Ringo was munching on a banana he had found who-knows-where.
"Sorry," said George to the receptionist as he gestured at John. "I haven't finished training him yet, he's a very strong-willed one. I think it comes from having three goldbacks in the family."
"Three what?" asked the receptionist, though he was fairly confident that he didn't want to know.
"You know, the social rank above a silverback," said George with a wolfish grin. The receptionist excused himself, muttering something about the loo and wondering if his day could possibly get any worse. The moment he reached the restroom, he fainted dead away on the tile floor.
At five till three, all four Beatles got up and went upstairs to Mr. Campbell's office. Paul had removed the beard but was still wearing the bowler hat, which John had said was quite a fashion statement.
Ringo raised his fist to knock on the door, but John pushed it open before Ringo's fist hit the wood. John strolled in, seeming very much at home in the sumptuously decorated study. Campbell looked up in some alarm, but relaxed when he saw John's mop top. That was his first mistake. John was closely followed by the other three Beatles, and Paul shut the door.
"So, you're the Beatles," said Campbell, with slight distain.
"So, you're Mr. Campbell," said John with quite a lot of obvious distain, which Campbell chose to ignore.
"And you are Mr. Harrison," said Campbell, looking at George.
"I think so," replied George, looking down at himself thoughtfully.
YOU ARE READING
The Beatles at Scotland Yard
FanfictionJust a little bit of nonsense involving the Beatles at Scotland Yard. Could be expanded into a much larger fanfic if I wanted to, but I honestly don't think I'm ever going to. So it's just a bit of comic relief. A little bit AU.
