August 18, 1998
Dear Diary,
Mummy just found this old thing in the attic. It was covered in so much dust that when she blew on it, she sneezed. Sherlock tried to take the diary when mummy went to throw it out. When I said I wanted it, Mycroft said the youngest should get it. Of course Sherlock decided to throw a hissy fit. It's hysterical when a 15 year old starts yelling that he saw it first and Mycroft just likes me more. He is right. Mycroft has shown on 7 occasions that he prefers me. Mummy said that every girl should have a diary. Hopefully she won't take this as a sign and start getting me make-up.
I should probably mention some facts about myself. Someone could find this diary years from now and publish it. I can see the title now: The Boring Memoirs of S. Holmes. Oh well. My name is Scout Holmes. I was born on May 16, 1985. I am currently 13 years old. I have two siblings. Fifteen year old William "I insist to be called Sherlock" Holmes and nineteen year old Mycroft "I have no heart" Holmes. I honestly don't see how girls can write in these things for so long.
I live in Sussex in the country. Dreadfully boring. Except that time I climbed the huge tree in our backyard and broke my arm getting out. In 18 days, I'll be sent off to London. To boarding school. Mycroft graduated last year, so he doesn't have to bear the torture any longer. He's going for a degree in government. He wants to be a politician. Boring. I'll have to deal with Sherlock being at school for a few more years. Hopefully I can occupy myself. Maybe find a friend…I can't believe I even wrote that. Friends. That's a joke. I'll find a friend when hell freezes over.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
January 1, 2000
Dearest Diary,
Where hast thou been? My dearest diary, you have missed it. Hell has frozen over. I, Scout Holmes, have found a friend. She's very nice. Her name is Abigail Grace Rose Adams. I just call her Abby. She's a London native. The two of us rule over the rugby team. Honestly, with her looks and my expertise in manipulation, we have the team whipped. Toby, the team captain, invited us to his team party. We shouldn't be going. We're not allowed, technically speaking. Only rugby players and cheerleaders. And trust me, we're not snot nosed little bitch cheerleaders. I did not say this. I'm only quoting what Abby said after a few beers. I prefer scotch, mind you.
I know, I know. I'm starting to sound like girls in those horror movies who drink and have sex and, well girls gone wild, basically. But I'm not. I'm currently the valedictorian of my grade. Once Sherlock graduates this year, I'll be valedictorian of the whole school. The Holmes' intellect. Teachers love it, other students loathe it. Abby is the second smartest in our grade. Must be off now. I have a class in 20 minutes and I need to find my notebook. OCD does not help memory loss.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
January 14, 2000
Dear Diary,
Remind me never to go to a rugby team party. Abby convinced me and last night was epic. Toby had gotten us "cool aid" and showed us around. Needless to say, Abby doesn't like to be shown off like a trophy. After a little talk with yours truly, she gave Toby a shiner in front of his friends and we left. On our way out, we passed the Eton rugby team. They planned to crash the little get together. Eton is the #1 rugby team. Or so they claim.
I only know 4 of the players. The captains, Vin and Ranger Wallace, are brothers. They looked nice and sweet, but they've broken legs and arms before. And not their own. Lucky #7, Gregory Lestrade, was a ringer. He left Eton 2 years ago for Uni. Mycroft mentioned him a few times. And finally, #23. Abby has had a crush on him for the last couple of weeks. Sebastian "Basher" Moran is all I've heard about for a while. Toby stopped by this morning to apologize. He then proceeded to invite us to a club he started. Abby, of course, wants to go. Because when there's a club that meets in an abandoned warehouse, you go without question.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
May 23, 2001
Dear Diary,
To quote the Americans, "The first rule of fight club: you do not talk about fight club". Abby and I did go to the abandoned warehouse club. After the first time, we went back every week. The warehouse was old and grimy. By far the ugliest rust bucket in all of London, but that was rather the point. Supposedly, the rugby players weren't cooperating. So, Toby found a giant, empty warehouse and set up shop. Lay down tables and chairs, pick up the glass and debris, make a padded circle with rope around it in the middle of the room, and voila! Fight club was born. Used to be boys only. Of course everyone is allowed to watch. Notice how I said used to be boys only. That resulted from Toby pissing me off and his teammates goading me on.
Abby and I had been minding our own business when Toby started hitting on Abby. Drunk already, he couldn't help himself. I remembered when Abby gave him a shiner for treating us like trophies. Right then and there, we made a pack to be partners for life. She would protect me and I would do the same. Ten minutes later, Toby and I were in the ring. Five minutes later, I was kicking his ass. He cried uncle and I became the queen of fight club. Of course, everyone famous and important came to fight club, so I kind of became queen of the school.
Fight club was a good outlet for me. Mycroft was rising in the government and bailed Sherlock out of jail when he got caught with his drugs. If you think about it, we're all addicted to something. Mycroft is addicted to power, Sherlock to intelligence, Abby to gore, and I'm…well, I'd say I was addicted to glory. Abby and I. The two of us against the world. Partners in crime. Glory and gore.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
July 11, 2003
Dear Diary,
I'm off to Uni. I've finally decided on psychology as my major. Government and criminology will be my minors. Mycroft was just assigned a huge position in the government. I'd say he was the British government. Sherlock finally got off drugs. He bought a flat in London and is calling himself a consulting detective. I've heard from Mycroft that lucky #7, Gregory Lestrade, has just become a homicide detective. Toby, Vin & Ranger Wallace, and Sebastian "But his eyes are so gorgeous" Moran joined the army. Abby has already been offered a job. She'll just go to Uni to become a nurse as a hobby.
I was sort of offered a job. I've always been good with computers, mostly hacking into other computers. Mycroft mention to me how he could use an off-the-books hacker. Just for simple stuff though. CIA, FBI, NASA, rogue governments, terrorist organizations. Easy peasy. Sherlock offered me a job as his companion. I could be his flat mate and solve brutal homicides. I took the hacker job. It pays 650 pounds per hack. That of course started the Holmes' feud. Mycroft and Sherlock hate each other and I'm stuck in the middle. Joy.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
November 7, 2005
Dear Diary,
I saw Abby today. She came to me in need of assistance. She'd heard about my job and needed help getting away from the one she had taken. She told me about how she was an assassin for Charles Augustus Magnussen. The famous Danish blackmailer. Mycroft has multiple files on him. CAM gave Abby a chance to run when she disobeyed him. But he's a blackmailer, and he won't stop until she's dead. So I helped Abby. But helping her meant helping him. With no other choice, I took care of her. I killed Abigail Grace Rose Adams.
The funeral was lovely. Afterwards, I walked through the tombstones. Shopping for names is easy when you know where to look. I met my new best friend at a café later and told her all about it. My new friend's name is Mary Elizabeth Morstan. A London native. All of her family is dead. She has a job as a nurse. Polite and likeable. And untraceable. The perk of being a government hacker is that you can change and delete files and records. I killed Abigail Grace Rose Adams and created Mary Elizabeth Morstan. Now Abby only lives on a file marked A.G.R.A.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
December 30, 2005
Mary and I against the world. Partners in crime. Glory and gore. The hacker and the assassin. But that's about to change. The hacker just got promoted.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
September 17, 2010
Dear Diary,
Things are changing. Sherlock vs Moriarty. Consulting detective vs consulting criminal. The battle of wits has begun. And if all goes as planned, someone's going to die.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
January 5, 2012
Dear Diary,
` The planned worked perfect. Everyone thinks Sherlock is dead. He is currently on a plane to Russia. Moriarty obviously isn't dead either. No body to collect after he shot himself. But the criminal world thinks he's dead. And he'll stay that way. For the time being.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
February 21, 2013,
Dear Diary,
The king is dead. Long live the queen.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
April 26, 2014
Dear Diary,
Mary got married. She fell for Watson. I had a business meeting so I couldn't go. Sherlock came back a few months ago. I've thought about Moriarty's return for a while. If Moriarty returns, London will burn. London will burn and burn and burn. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, the world will be set aflame when the king returns. Sherlock thinks he can stop the king. But he can't. Because the world must burn. And Moriarty holds the match.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
December 21, 2014
Dear Diary,
The napoleon of blackmail is dead. Mary is safe. Abby was saved. But Watson didn't want to meet Abby. He loved Mary. Everyone did. So he destroyed the flash drive. Every file about A.G.R.A., gone. Abby was the first to burn.
Sincerely,
S. Holmes
January 2, 2014
Dearest Diary,
Did you miss me?
Sincerely,
S. Holmes