Chapter One: The Daughter
I sat quietly in the cab as I rode from the train station to Baker Street, London, something I haven't done in a while. I used to go there one weekend a month to visit my father, Sherlock Holmes, but I've been avoiding him since I graduated uni, and since my dad has begun to get publicity for his "skills." I didn't feel like being dragged into the public eye by being seen with him, even if he didn't mid it, or even if we did share the same abilities. Then again, the last few times I had come home, he had neglected to see me… come to think of it, I hadn't seen him since I was an undergraduate student, and that was… THREE years ago. I did write him letters when I stopped visiting, not that he answered any, nor did he answer his stupid phone when I texted him, which I happen to try to do quiet regularly, but-
I'm getting carried away. The point is, dad has not been a large part of my life for some time. I've tried everything I know of to reach out to him, even said I was pregnant once when I was sixteen… he didn't seem to care. Now that I'm nineteen, I'm not sure if I do, either, but mum sent me out here anyway. Set me up with her friends son, or something, said I needed to "socialize more," not that I quite enjoy being surround by men with goldfish brains.
The cab stopped outs 221 quite suddenly, and I stumbled a little to hand the cabby the money I owed before stepping out into the dimly light early evening. I rang the bell and waited for Mrs. Hudson to come and answer it, which she did quite swiftly, a disheveled look on her face.
"- and I swear, your roommate is horrid, Doctor. Oh! Sofia, how are you, deary?"
"Great, thanks. I'm just here to change." She ushered me in out of the cold before asking,
"Oh, from the things your mother sent over, or the things upstairs?" I frowned momentarily when she mentioned my mother sending things over, as I was unaware she was doing so, or why she would do so.
"From the stuff upstairs."
"Can you stay?"
"I'm afraid not. But I'll be back later."
"Okay. Well go on, then." For the first time, I turned my eyes to the other man in the room. I recognized him instantly as Dr. John Watson, my father's colleague. I gave him a quick once over before heading past him and up the stairs. As I stepped through the doorway, the war doctor stopped me.
"Um, excuse me, but who are you and why are you in my flat?" I sighed before putting on a fake smile and turning myself to face him.
"Oh, forgive me. Does Sherlock Holmes not live here anymore?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Then, I'm no concern of yours. Promise." I winked, and turned back around, heading down the hallway to my father's room. It was neater than the last time I had visited 221b, with signs of him not having slept in here for ages, which was almost certainly true. I changed into a more suitable dress for my date- one I am not excited for, mind- and checked my appearance in the bathroom mirror, before exiting from the bedroom and walking back to the living area, where John still waited, a mixed look of determination, exasperation, and annoyance.
"Wait, miss. Who are you? So- so I can tell Sherlock you stopped by." I frowned, not unlike I always do.
I sighed once more, before looking down at my wrist. I slowly took off my diamond bracelet and handed it to him. "Here. Show him this. He'll know who I am." Silently, I left.
…
The date was pitiful to say the least. He was intimidated by my last name when we first met, then was further intimidated when I proved to live up to said name. He took me to the cinema, a rather old school move. The movie itself was a little dull for my taste, but the fact that he kept trying to make a move on me while it played certainly kept me on my toes. Needless to say, there were no plans made for a second date.
When I got back to 221, I went straight in and straight up the steps, but stopped short of the door, which was cracked only slightly open. Yes, I know eavesdropping is bad, but when you hear an argument going on that you don't won't to be a part of yet, well. You stay put.
"Why didn't you call me right when she got here?" Ah. That was Sherlock.
"I did! You didn't answer me!" The doctor from earlier? Okay…
"Well then why didn't you text me?"
"Sherlock! I DID! YOU didn't text back!"
"Now now, John. No need to yell. I'm right here." "John" gave an exasperated sigh.
"Sherlock, just tell me who she was!"
"Is," I said, stepping out of the shadows. "Hello, dad."
AN: The best way to do this next scene is by saying bold is Sherlock talking, Italics is Watson talking, and Normal is Sofia talking.
"Dad?"
"Sofia."
"Sofia?"
"Yes, Sofia."
"Sofia, John. John, Sofia."
"Really dad?"
"What?"
"Hello? I'm right here. I'm John."
"And I'm Sof-"
"Yes, I've gathered that, thanks."
"Back to Sherlock, then."
"Yes, what did I do?"
"Really? You're just going to introduce me as you did?"
"Well why not."
"Oh I don't know, maybe you could have said, 'Well, John. This is my daughter Sofia, who I love very-"
"And who is also being selfish by speaking of themselves-"
"WHAT?! Me? Selfish? If I may point out YOU were the one who left mother with me! And the one-"
"Let me ex-"
"I'm NOT finished with you yet." An iciness I had never felt before crept into my bones as I continued. I later identified this feeling as an undeniable anger I had never felt. "YOU were the selfish one who left your own child to just her mother! And who doesn't even care to call me back or text me or even see me! I used to come ONCE A MONTH! You couldn't take one day to see me?! Or just a second to respond to a text or call, or letter?! And I'M the selfish one?!"
"Yeah, I'm just going to step out for a moment…"
"Oh no, John. Please stay to hear how UN-perfect your mate is here!"
"I'd rather not."
"Stay John. I may need you to pry her off me."
"Add what's that supposed to mean?!"
"You're like your mother and when your mother gets mad, she attacks people. If you do, I'll need John to hold you back."
"Oh, please. You can't even hold off a tiny girl? What have you become, Sherlock?"
"You are my daughter and you will not call me by that name."
"I'm your daughter now? What, are you going to finally read my letters?"
"That's enough! I have been reading your letters! Now will you please let me explain myself!"
AN: back to normal! Sorry.
I was so taken aback by his sudden outburst that I shut up, tears of anger threatening to fall from my eyes.
"Thank you," he said. "Sofia, believe me when I tell you, I have been reading your letter. When you used to visit, you have to believe me when I say I wasn't home. Now, as for leaving you with your mother… It was for your own good… I was young and stupid. I was still involved with other… activities. I was suitable to father a child."
"Neither was mother! She was seventeen!"
"Really? Wow," John interjected. Sherlock and I gave him identical sneers. He looked to the floor. "Right. I'll go make a brew."
"May I finish explaining?"
"Yes, and while you're at it, explain the man Moriarty."
"You know of Moriarty."
"No, mum only mentioned him once, but she seemed scared by him, and she wouldn't tell me anything. By the question you just asked me, I assume you do know him."
"Sofia, when did you find out about him?"
"Mother said he visited the flat while I was away… then she sent me here." Slowly, things began to fall into place in my brain.
"Sofia, Moriarty is the man who' trying to kill me."
"W-what?"
"He's after me! I called your mother to warn her and have her go into hiding with you! When did you last speak to her?" Father's voice raised as his sentence went on, showing his urgency.
"Almost two days ago." Dad picked up his phone and called our flat number, putting it on speaker. It rang twice, then a man answered.
"Hello. I'm sorry but the person you are trying to reach is… a bit tied up at the moment. Can I take a message?"
"Moriarty."
"Ah! Sherlock! I was wondering how long it would take you to call. I take it Miss. Holmes is with you?"
"I'm right here." My voice sounded steady, though I felt anything but, a trait I had picked up in my line of work in the prison, interrogate inmates. Sherlock eyed me wordlessly, obviously slightly taken aback by my tone of voice, and examining my reaction.
"Splendid! Now if you just hold on a moment, I'll go into Ismilda's room… And here she is!" A scream could be heard over the phone.
I wanted to scream for him to leave her alone, but I refused to give him the satisfaction. Rather, I set my face tightly, and stared at the phone, the icy anger returning to my body.
"Now let me tell you something about poor Ismilda, shall I? She's taken a bit of medicine, so she won't be with us much longer." Another scream. "Hmm, yes. It's quit painful, I might add."
Hot tears formed in my eyes, but I had learned from years of work that crying is what these monsters wanted. So, I swallowed my tears. Sherlock was still examining me with the same look in his eye.
"She's only got a few seconds left. Anything you want to say, Ismilda?" There was a pause before my mother's voice came onto the phone, strained, but true.
"Sof… I love you hun...ny… Sher… Lock… Take care of … her…"
I could no longer sit silently by, letting my mother think she was dying alone. "Mum. Mum, I love you, I'm here." The tears began to fall. "I'm here. I'll make him pay, I promise."
"Say goodbye, Ismilda."
"Good… bye… my l… love…" My mom took her last breath.
"Mum…" I whispered, too quiet to be heard by Moriarty.
"Watch your backs, Mr. and Miss. Holmes. Watch your backs. Tata!"
Once his voice was gone, I let myself fall into Sherlock's arms as I cried.