~I don't own any of the Sherlock characters. Katie and OC is of my own creation.~ Enjoy and review.
It all started with a single letter that I received through the regular mail one afternoon. I had been just closing a big case that had made headline news across the U.K. while my older brother, Mycroft did everything he can to take the usual credit of my work as usual. Not that I even cared as long as I was given a interesting case that caught my otherwise brilliant mind.
He supplied the puzzle and I solved it for him.
Simple as that.
However, this particular afternoon turned everything upside down when I opened a perfectly white envelope that was addressed to me in a neatly written fancy script writing that could only speak of that of a masculine male. The boldness and swift writing gave it all away in a single glance when I bothered to look down at it after my afternoon cup of tea. John was away with his wife to visit the in-laws, something that I loathed to do whenever I got dragged along with them. Bloody hell! Annoying parents always asking what your business is and if whether or not you are getting a girlfriend, blah blah blah. It was the same cup of tea every time.
So this time, I chose to stay home and be bored while I watched from my upstairs flat's bedroom window the comings and goings of this boring world. Sure, we came a very long ways from being slow and stupid with the advancement of technology, but I couldn't help but wonder if no one ever gave a thought to what it would be like to do something perfectly normal, like perhaps writing a letter by hand instead of sending emails and so forth.
And so it was, I was mildly amused when I picked up the envelope and swiftly opened it with my letter opener. I at first just glanced over the whole one page content before the words actually began to pop out from the pages as if to grab my attention with its own threats as I slowly forced myself to read it over several times.
"Dear Sherlock Holmes." It read. "I regret to tell you that you have only less then 78 hours to solve a mystery that I have set up for you to solve. There are various people and clues that have been set up for you and I'm sure it will keep your entertainment most welcoming while I get the pleasure of watching a young female college student grad cower in my makeshift basement. Her picture is enclosed within this letter. Remember Sherlock, 78 hours or shes dead by your own brilliant mind.
I wish you all the best luck in this world and beyond.
Ta ta for now, your anonymous writer."
The photo enclosed a young attractive woman who appeared to be in her early 20's, with deep chestnut red hair and green eyes that sparkled with the sunlight that hit her face. She was smiling brightly at the camera but it wasn't so much as her face and smile that caught my attention.
It was the lower half of her body.
She appeared to be pregnant, most likely seven months by the size of her womb. Written beneath the picture with the same handwriting in the letter, was the bold word "YOURS." My world spined wildly out of control as I felt myself collapse from sheer shock. It wasn't often that Sherlock Holmes, the greatest personal consultant, born genius and friend of John Watson, would be literally shocked beyond comprehension. Not even my own brother would find it very hard to believe this. I almost smirked to myself as I struggled to my feet of what his reaction would have been if he had been on the other end where I am at.
I took several deep breaths, pocketing the photo and letter in my bath robe as I made my way downstairs. I grabbed my cellphone that lay upon the mantle piece of my never used fireplace and dialed the number that I seldom used just as often, except when on a case.
"Mycroft speaking." My brother's always business like voice spoke briskly on the other end.
"Brother, there has been a situation that needs your immediate attention at my place." I blurted out without so much as a greeting. There was exactly a full minute and sixty seconds of silence on the other end before I finally heard him reply in a slight troubled voice that was so unlike of him.
"Its been so long since you even called me by that bloody endearment, I was beginning to wonder if perhaps you actually became crazy with wild imaginations, Sherlock."
"Of course you would be the one to think that." I found myself snapping impatiently. "Listen, there isn't much time and the clock has already started ticking. I need for you and Lestrade to come here as soon as possible. I can't explain much over the phone."
"Alright." Mycroft sighed. "I see I have no other choice if I'm to endure another one your long, boring lecturers about evolution and its wonders. I'll be there within ten minutes." He hung up abruptly and I tossed my phone onto the small couch. I took out the photo once more and stared down at the smiling girl. What are the chance when you donated a small cup of sperm to the local sperm back six years when you were struggling to get through Oxford on a small grant from mummy and dad, only to have it wind up in a possible candidate such as this young woman?
Not wanting to even think that she could be very well carrying a replica of myself and hers, I grabbed my phone from the couch once more and dialed John's number. If it was anyone else who I was most at ease of talking about my personal problems and everything else, it would be him and him only.
After the ringing stopped and I heard John's voice, I let out a relived sigh. "Hey, sorry to bother you and your happy go-lucky visit with the in-laws, but how do you feel about coming home and seeing what kind of case I have? Its more interesting as it so happens to involve me and beating 78 hours before a young woman is killed. Yes, yes, you heard right. It involves me, but in a more intimate detail that even I'm sure Mycroft will have a very hard time absorbing it at all, that is if he doesn't fall over from a sheer heart attack once he hears it..."