Chapter 1- "The Unknown Visitor"
"I have reason to believe that Mr Sherlock Holmes is not dead"
These are the words that rang through Dr Watson mind over and over again.
"Impossible," he murmured to himself in disbelief. "I saw him fall and the blood…his body lying there, lifeless, no pulse at all." He kept his head down trying to comprehend his own works.
A moment of silences past then he finally looked up to face the barer of this surprising news. She was young, mealy fifteen. Her face was very pale, which seemed to be complimented by her swiping golden hair that was tide into a messy plait that swung over her right shoulder. Her bright green eyes memorising his.
"How can I believe you," John said with a sniffle.
"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't." She smirked leaning forward in her chair that once sat Sherlock Holmes. "Just let me say one thing you saw him fall…but did you see him hit the ground."
"No, umm no I didn't see him hit the ground." John coughed. "But why would he possible fake his own death."
"I have reason to believe he may be protecting someone, his true friend the only one that believed in him to the end. Moriaty could have gotten Sherlock to jump and walk away, alive, with everything he lives for."
"But…But I" John was amazed.
"Listen, Sherlock always knew he was always in front of Moriaty, I believe Sherlock knew something was wrong before Moriaty new it himself."
"Then why didn't he tell me"
"To protect you…and anyone else that he classifies as a friend." Her words were so comforting to John.
"Protect me…" He murmured. "How do you know all this…about Sherlock, how?"
"Well," She proceeds to stand up with that same smirk. "Let's just say I am a curious fan, here" She handed John a roughly folded piece of paper. "I suggest you talk to Mycroft Holmes, he may know something…Oh and don't tell anyone I what I have told you today."
"Wait…why," but it was too late she was gone.
John looked down at the crumbled piece to paper and slowly opened it.
He read careful read the few words scribbled in blue ink.
"Mariah Norton," John whispered as the rain pelted against the window of 221B.