The Daughter of Sherlock Holmes
I make my way through the dull, grey streets of London, listening to my earphones as I went. My school wasn't to far, so I rode my skateboard down the street weaving through the crowd of the street. I feel the wind through my hair, but my grey beanie keeps my head warm. I push on the pavement with my boots. I was wearing my skinny trousers and a Guns n Roses hoodie. My eyeliner flicked out of my eyes like wings, I liked the look. Technically, I am breaking school rules, but I don't do well following rules. I'm just like my dad.
Let me tell you about myself. I'm very clever. I have proved my teachers wrong many times, resulting in many detentions and lots of trouble. I am very good at sports. I'm the quickest runner out of my entire school, including the boys. I also do lots of Martial arts, boxing and self defence. I'm one of the most popular people in my year, due to my cleverness and good looks. I use my intelligence to my advantage. I mess around in the lessons, but I know everything anyway. I walk out of exams with top marks, and this always confuses the teachers. In lessons I talk to my friends, even though I don't trust them. My dad tells me not to trust anyone, and I take his advise seriously. Even though he is annoying sometimes, I know it's just his nature and I don't mind it too much.
I reach Baker St., my new home. I got my dad to unpack for me, seeing as its fault we're moving anyway. I stand outside the building I should call home, and pick up my skateboard. I walk through the door and up the creaking stairs. The living room is small, but homely.
"Kate!" I'm greeted with a hug from Mrs. Hudson. A couple of years ago, Dad ensured her husbands execution in Florida. Of course, I was at home under the supervision of D.I Lestrade, while he was having fun solving the case in Florida.
I hug her back, "It's lovely to see you again Mrs. Hudson." I turn towards dad who is in his mind palace whilst sitting on the sofa, with a blank look on his face. I'm used to being ignored by him. But I thought he might at least greet me into our new home.
Obviously not.
I was disappointed, and my face dropped slightly.
Mrs. Hudson sensed this and tried to invite him into the convocation. She starts gushing.
"Hasn't Kate grown Sherlock, she's a young woman now…" etc.
This appears to distract him so much he notices my presents.
"Ah Kate, I hadn't noticed you there, pass me a pen." His face remains blank; it was hard to stay mad at him for long. I chucked my rucksack on the sofa and walk over to give my dad a pen from my pocket. I was about to give it him when I see a middle aged man, obviously come back from a war somewhere, standing outside our door.
"Dad there's a man waiting outside," I say cautiously.
"Ah, that'll be our 'flat mate'"
"What an ex military soldier?"
"Yes, problem?" he asked me with a questioning face.
"Yes, I don't want to share a flat with an ex soldier, who I don't know! I wouldn't want an ex soldier to move in even if I did know them!" I only just noticed my voice had risen more than slightly. He sighed.
"Kate, I need you to understand that I can't pay for the rent on my own."
"You could have at least asked me first before agreeing everything behind my back! Now where's my room, I want to storm into it!"
Dad obviously noticed my anger and replies, "Up the stairs, first door on the left," I leave the room, but I still hear Mrs. Hudson tut before going to answer the door. I sit on my bed and go to my mind palace, and palace everything in its room before leaving it there, for me to find whenever I want.
I must've fallen asleep on my bed; it was only 5:00. There is a small knock at the door.
"Kate?" Mrs. Hudson speaks through the door.
"Yes Mrs. Hudson?"
She creeks the door open and slide in through the gap, holding a mug.
"I know how much you like green tea, so I made it especially for you." She whispers softly.
"Aww thank you." There was a small silence, "What it the 'flat mate' like?" I ask out of interest. I know I can't stay in my room for the rest of my life.
"He is a lovely man. An ex soldier, like you said, he was an army doctor. He came back because he was shot, he has ever such a bad limp." Psychosomatic limp, of course.
"You should come and meet him, he's a nice fella." I nod and walk out of the room.
Walking down the stairs, I hear dad and the doctor speaking. When I enter the room, dad notices my presents and introduces me.
"Kate, this is Dr. John Watson," he then turns to John, "John this is my daughter, Kate."
Not forgetting my manners, I offer my hand out to shake, which he takes kindly.
"Hi," I say not wanting to be rude. "Hello" he greets back. We smile awkwardly at each other and I glance to my dad, oblivious to the awkwardness. Thankfully Mrs. Hudson breaks the silence, "What about these suicides Sherlock, I thought this would be right up your street." I walk over to the window and look out. I see D.I Lestrades car pull up onto the curb. Mrs. Hudson continues, " three exactly the same…" I interrupt.
"Four" they all turn to look at me, dad walks over to me next to me and looks out the window, understanding me.
"What?" Mrs. Hudson asks in shock.
Dad smiles at me, he taught me well, "there's been a fourth."
"There' s something different this time," I add.
D.I Lestrade takes his cue to run up the stairs. Dad turns to him, "Where?"
"Brixton, Loriston Gardens" clearly out of breath.
"What's new about this one?" dad questions.
"You know how they never leave notes," we both nod, "well, this one did. Will you come?"
I knew exactly what his first question would be.
"Who's on forensics?" Lestrade sighs.
"It's Anderson"
We all hate Anderson, he refers to dad as 'the freak', and this annoys me so much. All I want to do it punch his face. And Sally Donovan's. Dad shakes his head.
"Anderson wont work with me,"
"Well he won't be your assistant,"
"I need an assistant," his voice growing louder.
Lestrade looks down, "Will you come?"
Not in a police car, we'll be right behind"
Dad always takes me to the crime scene, but I never get to go in. I always get a policeman babysitting me at the entrance. It started when I was younger and he wouldn't leave me on my own, but the habit stuck and I go with him on every single case.
As soon as Lestrade is down the stairs, dad jumps in the air with joy, "Brilliant!" Some people would call it weird that he is so happy about a dead person, but I find it nice to see him so happy. "Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note! Oh it's Christmas! Mrs. Hudson, we'll be back late, we may need some food." He says a he grabs his coat. Mrs. Hudson huffs, "I'm your landlady dear, not your housekeeper." Dad ignores her, "Something cold will do, John have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up! Hurry up Kate!" and with that we hurry out of the door.
Suddenly he stops at the bottom of the stairs.
"What?" not following what's going on. I wait for a minute for dad to return, and when he does I see John following at his heels. Dad hails taxi and we all clamber in, making our way to Loriston Gardens.
On the way, Dr. Watson asked how dad knew he was an army doctor. Well, it was simple. His stance and haircut suggested military. He has a tan, but not above the wrists. When he walked, he had a limp. But he didn't seem affected suggesting he had forgotten, so his limp is psychosomatic. I hadn't deduced that he was a doctor though.
My deduction skills came in handy at school. I could tell which teacher had a drinking disorder, and which one was having an affair with who. All the dull stuff.
After dad had finished explaining his deductions, leaving Dr. Watson astounded, we arrived at Loriston Gardens. As we walk under the police tape, Sargent Donavan approaches.
"Hello, freak." We are un-phased by her words, it doesn't affect dad in any way. He ignores her.
"We're here to see detective inspector Lestrade," he says sounding bored.
"Why?"
"We were invited," he says bluntly.
"Why?"
"I think he wants me to take a look," he says sarcastically.
"Well, you know what I think, don't you." She replies coldly.
"Always sally." He pauses and sniffs the air. "Even though you didn't make it home last night." And he walks past her.
I smile smugly at her as I walk past.
Dad looks around the pavement to see anything; he is met by Anderson's feet.
"Ah Anderson, here we are again," sarcasm seeping through his voice.
"This is a crime scene, I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" coldly.
"Quite clear," dad replies with the same bitterness.
"And is your wife away for long?"
"Don't pretend you worked that out, somebody told you that." His voice sounded tense.
"Your deodorant told me that." Anderson just looked at him with confusion.
"My deodorant?" I smile. I know what dads getting at, what he's thinking.
"It's for men," he grins childishly.
"Of course it's for men, I'm wearing it!" he seemed to be getting angry now.
"So's Sargent Donavan." That seems to have silenced him.
Anderson sharply turns around to glare at sally.
"Oh, I think it just vaporized, may I go in," suddenly sounding bored.
"Now whatever you're try to imply…"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm sure sally came round for a nice little chat and just happened to stay over," he starts to walk by.
I decide to get her back for all the times they called my dad a freak.
"And I assume she scrubbed your floor by the state of her knees." They gave me a shocked glare. I smile back smugly at them and follow my dad up into the house.
I always have the pleasure of staying at the bottom of the stairs. I ask dad, often, if I can go and help, but I always get declined.
I sit on one of the steps while a younger male police officer is told to babysit me. I'm very good at sweet talk. By the time dad finishes, I had wormed all of the information I could get out of the police officer.
Poor woman, named Jenifer Wilson. She had tried to scratch something on the floorboards before she died.
Dad came running out, ranting about something. I wasn't paying too much attention because I knew he would tell he all of it later. He suddenly stops.
"Oh! Oooh!" and he claps his hands together, "serial killers are always hard, you always have to wait for them to make the first mistake."
"We can't just wait!" Lestrade answers.
"No we're done waiting, look, really look, Huston we have a mistake! Get onto Cardiff. Find out who Jennifer Wilsons family and friends are, find Rachel!"
"Of course yes, but what mistake?" his voice rising to a shout. Dad frantically runs up a few steps and suddenly shouts "PINK!"
He runs out the door, and I run out after him. He walks quickly towards the high street. He stops and turns around and stares at me. "The case. Her case." I knew he wasn't talking to me, just at me. I needed an explanation. "Dad, what was the note on the floor? What did it say? What else should I know?"
"It was the beginning of Rachel. She was from Cardiff and has been unhappily married for 10+ years. She has had a string of lovers and she works in the media. There were signs of splash marks at the back of her heel."
"Suitcase?"
"Yes but there is no suitcase in that house."
"And the suitcase would be pink?"
"Yes, obviously"
"Because she had a case, I will assume the killer will have drove her here. So the murderer would get rid of the case as soon as he noticed he had it. Anyone would look conspicuous carrying it, especially a man which is more likely. He has killed for people and has not been caught yet. He is smart, so it wouldn't take him long for him to realize he still had the case. So that means it would be in a back street wide enough for a vehicle five minutes from here."
He smiles at me, "I have taught you well," and I smile along with him.
I found the case after half an hour of me and dad looking. I carry the pink suitcase (dad would look weird carrying it!). We make our way back to Baker Street in a taxi when I realize, "Dad we left Dr. Watson back at the crime scene." He seems un-phased by it, and replied with a simple "Oh yeah" before thinking to himself once more. I suppose he is a grown man who should be able to look after himself.
When we reached Baker Street, dad takes his place at, lying down on the sofa. I put the suitcase on a chair in the kitchen. He will ask for his nicotine patches any second now, he always does when he's thinking.
"Kate?"
"I'm already going," I say as I walk to his room. They are somewhere amongst the hoards of mess on the floor. I stop and look around; his room is nicer than mine. Of course. I find the patches underneath a sheet that is randomly lying on the floor.
I'm so going to have to tidy this room sometime.
I take the box of patches through to him; he normally has more than one on.
Don't know why.
"Thanks, can I borrow your phone?"
"Pft, no!" I laugh at how he thinks I would lend it to him after last time.
"Why not, I just want to send a text."
"Last time you 'just sent a text' I had a psychopath texting me for two months until he got killed by another psychopath! So no!" I laughed again.
"I'll get John to lend me his phone." And with that he whipped his phone out of his pocket. He couldn't just get John here because he needs his phone.
"John could be busy, and I doubt he would appreciate a psychopath texting him in the future. He could be in another part of town. I'm surprised uncle Mycroft hasn't kidnapped him yet." The mention of uncle Mycroft had dad stiffen, but he couldn't annoy John. If he upsets John, John will move out, we wont be able to afford the rent and then we will have to move again. I don't want to move. Again.
I go and sit in the window. Dad has ignored me and is texting John.
Out of nowhere, dad asks, "Do you mind calling Lestrade and asking him the victims mobile number?"
"Sure. Was there a phone on the body?"
"No. And I'm sure it's not in the case."
"The murderer?"
"Most probably."
I walk out of the room and sit on the stairs, the creaky ones. I called up and got the number. I walked over to the desk and wrote out the number, from memory, onto a piece of scrap paper. I then resume my space on the windowsill and wait. After half an hour a sleek black car pulls up onto the curb just outside the house. John hops out after half a minute. Uncle Mycroft no doubt. He hobble up the stairs and as soon as he steps through the door, he sees dad holding his arm with his hands in fists.
"What are you doing?" as if really concerned.
"Nicotine patch," dad says as if saying 'what else?' Sensing John's confusion he adds "Helps me think. It's impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work." Dad had used to smoke, but stopped when I asked him to.
"Good news for breathing though." He smile and nodded in my direction.
"Ah, breathing. Breathing's boring."
John walks forward.
"Is that three patches?"
"Yes, it's a three patch problem." He moves his hands under his chin, making it look like he was praying.
"So?" John asked impatiently, "You asked me here, I'm assuming it important." There is a slight pause in the convocation, as dad doesn't answer John.
"Oh yeah, can I borrow your phone?" John looks at him blankly.
"My phone?"
"Yes, I don't want to used mine. There's always a chance the number will get recognized, its on the website."
"I bet Kate has a phone," he states looking pointedly in my direction.
"Kate wont let me borrow her phone after an incident that happened a while ago." I send an apologetic smile to the good doctor. He gets his mobile out of his pocket and slaps it into my dads open awaiting palm.
"So is this about the case?"
Dad murmurs back, "Her case."
"Her case?"
"Yes her case, obviously. The murderer took her case, his first big mistake"
"Ok, so he took her case. So?"
Dad talks to himself, "Its no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Before talking to me, "Kate, where's the number?"
"On the desk"
He talks to John again.
"On the desk there's a number, I want you to send a text." And he holds the phone out to John. John smiles to himself in disbelief. "You brought me here… to send a text?" Dad ignores John's disbelief. He speaks in small sentences, as if giving instructions to an idiot.
"Text, yes, the number, on my desk"
Although he was told to do something, Johns mind was elsewhere.
Dad notices.
"What's wrong?"
John sighs, "I just met a friend of yours." Dads face looked confused and almost alarmed. "A friend?"
John rephrases, "an enemy" the confusion on his face is wiped of as he says, "Oh, which one?" John looked at him, slightly taken aback.
"Well, your arch enemy. Do people have arch enemies?" but he was cut off before he could finish.
"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"
"Yes."
"Did you take it?"
"No"
"Pity we could've split the fee, think it through next time." John looked at dad as if he was mad.
"Who is he?" john asks, I smile out the window. Both me and dad knows who he is.
"The most dangerous man you've ever met and not my problem right now. On my desk. The number."
John read the scrap piece of paper He mumbles to himself, "Jenifer Wilson, wait, wasn't that the dead lady?"
"That's not important, the number…are you doing it?"
"Yes"
"Have you done it?"
"Hang on!" John then shakes his head and carries on typing. Dad can get very annoying sometimes.
"These words precisely. 'What happened at Loriston Gardens? I must've blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come'"
"You blacked out?"
"What? No. No!" dad gets up off the sofa and steps over the coffee table and grabs the suitcase in the kitchen.
"What was the address again?"
"22 Northumberland Street" I answer him.
"Hurry up!" adds dad impatiently.
Dad opens the suitcase on a chair in front of him and looks at it, looking for any oddities. John looks around baffled.
"That's her case, the pink lady's case."
"Yes obviously." John looks at him in awe.
"Maybe I should mention, dad didn't kill her," I say, not wanting John to assume the worst.
"Why should I think he did?"
"Well the text he had you send and the fact that we have her case, it's a highly logical assumption." I shrug.
"Do people usually assume he's the murderer?"
I smile, "now and then, yes."
"Ok"
John walks across the room to sit in the armchair.
"How did you get this?" he questions.
"By looking," dad says.
"Where?"
"The killer must've driven her to Loriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in a car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to themselves, especially a man which is statistically more likely. So obviously he would feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. It wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. Me and Kate checked every back street large enough for a car five minutes from Loriston Gardens, and anyway he could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. I took Kate under half an hour to find the right skip."
He basically repeated what I said before we left Loriston Gardens. John was baffled.
"And you got all that because you knew the case would be pink?" dads said as if it was apparent to him.
"Well it had to be pink obviously"
John looked at the floor.
"Why didn't I think of that?" he says sarcastically.
"Because you're an idiot," was dads reply. It was harsh, so I tried to make it sound not as bad. "Don't worry, practically everyone is." I failed.
Dad looked back at the case.
"Look, you see what's missing?"
"How could I?" the answer is crystal clear to me.
"Her phone." I answer. John looks at me. "Well, where's her phone. There was no phone on the body. We know she had one, that was her number you just texted it."
"Maybe she left it at home." He challenged.
"She had a string of lovers and she was careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home."
John thinks to himself.
"Why did I just send that text?" his face full of bewilderment.
"Well the question is where is her phone now" I answer.
"She could've lost it."
"Yes, or…"
"The murderer. You think the murderer has the phone?"
"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is that the murderer has her phone." Dad answers.
"Sorry, what are we doing, did I just text a murderer? What good will that do?" he was cut of by his ringtone sounding.
(Withheld) calling…
"A few hours after his last victim and now he receives a text that can only be from her. I somebody had just found the phone they would ignore a text like that, but the murderer… would panic!" dad slams the case shut and walks over to get his coat and scarf. I do the same.
"Have you talked to the police?"
"Four people are dead, there's not time to talk to the police. Well?"
"Well what?"
" You could sit here and watch tely," making it sound as boring as humanly possible.
"You want me to come with you two?"
"Yeah, problem?"
"Yes, Sargent Donovan." Both me and dad sigh.
"What about her?" he breathes out.
"She told me you get of on this. You enjoy it." Dad has a childish flicker in his eye.
"And I said the word dangerous, and here you are." And he walks out the door with me following at his heels. I hear John hobble down the stairs behind us.
We walk down the busy street. I know where we're going to, but I imagine John has no clue. "Where are we going?"
"Northumberland Street" I answer, "It's a five minute walk from here."
He turns to dad, "You think he would be stupid enough to go there?"
"No I think he's is brilliant enough."
"I love the brilliant ones, they're always so desperate to get caught." I joke with dad, he smirks a bit and John looks at me like I'm a bit loopy. Ignoring me, John asks, "Why?"
"Appreciation, applause. At long last, the spotlight. The thing with genius is that it needs an audience." I say. I study Psychology at GCSE and I also have an personal interest in that area. So I know very well that geniuses like to get noticed. Dad starts to think aloud.
"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted it changes everything. Because all of his victims were taken from busy streets, crowded places but nobody saw them go." he lets out a frustrated growl, "Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who Hunt in the middle of a crowd?"
"I don't know, who?" John asks.
"Haven't the faintest, any ideas Kate?"
"I have a few ideas. But it could be a long list of people, from a policeman to a dustbin man. I'll get back to you on that."
"Okay, Hungry?" dad asks as he steers us towards Angelos' restaurant.
We walk in and pick a table next to the window and dad says, "22 Northumberland Street, keep your eyes on it," as we sit down. I take the space next to dad, so I can look out as well.
"He's not just going to ring the doorbell is he?" John jokes, "He'd have to be mad."
Dad, not knowing that John was joking says, "Well he has killed four people." That brings a awkward silence over the table. Angelo comes over, "Sherlock, Kate," he beams at us, "whatever you want on the menu for free. For all three of you." He turns to John; "This man got me off a murder charge."
"This is Angelo. Three years ago I was able to prove to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that he was in a completely different part of town housebreaking."
"He cleared my name." Angelo smiles.
"I cleared it a bit. Anything happening opposite?"
"No." turning back to John, "but for this man, I'd have gone to prison." Dad cut him off. "You did go to prison."
"Its good to see you both," and Angelo turns and goes.
We order food and sit in an uncomfortable silence.
After our food arrives, John suddenly says, out of the blue, "People don't have arch enemies." Both me and dad look at him blankly. "In real life people don't have arch enemies," he states again.
"Really, how dull. So what do people have in their real lives then?"
"Friends, people they like, people they don't like, girlfriends, boyfriends." I can see where this convocation is going.
"Well, as I was saying. Dull." Dad states bluntly.
"You don't have a girlfriend then?"
Are they really going to have this convocation now, when I'm right here?
"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."
John gave a surprised "Oh right… do you have a boyfriend… which is fine by the way."
"I know its fine."
I feel like shouting' I'M RIGHT HERE!' but that would attract so much attention.
"Sooo… you've got a boyfriend?"
"No"
"Right, okay. You're unattached. Like me." He says quietly. I can feel a look of disgust creeping up onto my face.
"John, I just want you to know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your interests…" I stop eating, throw my napkin onto my plate and lean back in disgust. They seem to realize that I'm actually there. John quickly says, "no I'm just saying, it's all fine," trying to get himself out of the hole he had dug himself into.
"Ok, thank you."
I look at them both looking at me, but I ignore them and look out of the window. I notice a taxi had stopped outside number 22.
"Look across the street. A taxi, stopped. Nobody getting in a nobody getting out."
They both turn and look.
"Why a taxi?" dad enquires. "Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?" he says quickly and he grabs his coat.
I get up and walk out of the restaurant. The taxi starts to drive away. I run across the road, not looking. A car nearly hits me, but I jump across the bonnet. I can hear both dad and John shouting my name, but the taxi is getting away. I run after it. When it's evident that I'm not as fast as the taxi, I stop and reroute myself. One way, right turn, traffic lights, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights. I start to run the new route. I can obviously run faster than the two men. I make my way up a fire exit and jump over a gap between two buildings. I can hear dad shouting me "slow down, wait for us" but I'm too motivated to get to the taxi. Lactic acid builds up in my muscles but I push on. I slide down another fire exit and run down the ally. The taxi passes right in front of me and I sprint down more another ally until I am right in front of the taxi. The taxi doesn't stop until it hits me. The impact on my middle body hurts and I bang my head as I bounce of the bonnet. I'm knocked back by the force of the taxi and I land flat on my back. I lie on the ground and rest while dad interrogates the passenger. John comes over to me and sits me up. My head is throbbing with pain and I feel dizzy, but it will wear off.
"Are you ok? You're head is bleeding from when you hit it on the bonnet." John states. But I know how badly he wants to see who's in the taxi.
"John, I'm okay. Go and interrogate him." He picks me up and leads me over to the closest building. I prop myself up and compose myself while they question the passenger.
They walked back over to me with disappointed faces, not really noticing me.
"Basically, that was a cab that just happened to slow down?"
"Basically." Dad looked rather irritated.
"Not the murderer?"
"Not the murderer, no."
"Wrong country good alibi. Anyway, where did you get this? Detective Inspector Lestrade?" reaching out for the ID card dad has.
"Yes, I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I have plenty more back at the flat." Dad turns to me concerned, "Are you alright?"
I sigh, "yes," and I stand up straight and let out a loud breath, "I won't be doing that again for a while." Dad chuckles and wraps his arm around my shoulders.
"Lets get you home."