Welcome, dear reader, to my rendition of the goings-on at Baker Street. Enjoy!
"A case, John! I need a case!"
John Watson didn't even look up from the Wednesday morning paper.
"'Afraid there's nothing on the agenda today, Sherlock." The detective was always restless in between cases.
Sherlock simply gave a disgusted sigh, walked into the kitchen, and plopped himself down on the stool in front of his microscope. Every couple of minutes the world's only consulting detective would sigh quite dramatically with a pointed look out the window at the city of London sprawled below, and John knew he was mentally cursing it for not churning up a murder or a kidnapping from its depths. John gave a small smile and shook his head as he turned his attention back to the paper in his hands.
As he reached the sports section of the paper, the doorbell rang, just once. Sherlock's head snapped up, and a small smile crept across his lips.
"Wonderful, buzz them in."
John gave an annoyed little huff as he set the paper down and pressed the small white button that allowed whoever was at the door to enter the building. Sherlock was standing now, and talking excitedly to himself.
" I wonder what it is? Murder, kidnapping, drug lord, stolen property, fraud? Oh this is excellent, couldn't have come a moment too soon-"
"Sherlock," John interrupted. The detective stopped to look over at his blogger. "Might want to tone down the enthusiasm a bit when they come in."
Sherlock sighed and went to sit across from the couch. John sat next to him, and together they waited for their newest case.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Sherlock's interest was piqued as soon as she walked in, and he could tell John's was as well. Teenaged girl, no more than sixteen at most. Stereotypically long blond hair, blue eyes with eyelashes that were just a bit too short, a beauty mark near the right side of her mouth, about 5 feet, six inches in height. Looked slightly lost and uncomfortable, not scared or worried like most who came to him with a case. An army green shoulder bag rested against her hips, covered in an array of buttons. He had to compliment her taste in coats; a long black trench coat, just like his, with a black belt cinched at the waist. Brown mid-calf boots. The real question was, what was she going to be; another child looking for a lost pet, or was this an actual case he was looking at?
Sherlock motioned for her to sit down on the couch across from them. She sat awkwardly, and he clapped his hands together once and addressed the girl.
"Right then! What's your business here?"
The girl looked at him, almost surprised. Why? He just didn't want to waste time. Straight to the point. She spoke, a look of slightly bewildered acceptance on her face.
"Uh, right then. I'm looking for a Mr. John Watson?"
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
John wanted to laugh at the expression on Sherlock's face. He looked between the doctor and the girl, as if he couldn't fathom the fact that she was not here for his expertise. She sat there staring at the two men, waiting for an answer.
He turned to John, completely ignoring her. "Why would someone come to see you?" His tone was filled with boyish annoyance, so much so that John couldn't keep a small smile off his lips. That's what he gets, the arrogant git. But he really had no idea who she was, or why she was sitting in the living room of 221b Baker Street.
"Dr. John Watson?" The girl spoke to him, leaning forward in her seat. "Regiment 116, medical unit 57, the British Armed Services, deployed in Afghanistan?"
John was filled with a sense of deja vu. The first time they met, in the lab, lending him his phone, knowing about his limp, knowing about Harry, knowing about the war, everything. It was still just as startling to have it happen the second time. But this was a little too specific to be a deduction.
"What? I'm sorry, who are you? How do you know all of that?"
Sherlock was watching the girl very closely. She looks flustered and somewhat embarrassed, but also… desperate? He wasn't sure.
She spoke with a kind of urgency. " My name is Parker Bennett. My father served with you in Afghanistan, from what I've been able to find out. Christopher Bennett, he was a surgeon."
John relaxed a bit. Chris Bennett was a good friend, one of many he had left behind when he was sent home because of his shoulder. But he was still confused as to why his daughter had just turned up unannounced on his doorstep.
" Yes of course," he replied, "we were good friends. Afraid I haven't kept up with anyone out there since I came home. How is he?"
The girl-Parker- looked down at her hands gathered in her lap.
"Well, according to government record, he's dead."
Bloody hell. He was not prepared for that.
Parker continued, still staring at her hands. "Three months ago, he was stationed in a makeshift hospital in Helmand Province, in a warehouse. The warehouse was bombed.
Sherlock's brow was slightly furrowed, the only sign that he was at all affected by what he was hearing. John, on the other hand, was at a loss. Why was his dead friend's daughter sitting in his living room, telling him all this? He looked at Parker, wanting so badly to comfort the curled shouldered girl who sat in front of him, fatherless.
"My god… I'm so sorry. I read about it in the paper, but I didn't know... He was a good man, Chris. You have my condolences."
John could see her draw herself together. She picked her gaze up off the floor to look back up at him.
"Thank you, Mr. Watson." There was a moment of depressed silence. Then Parker spoke to him again, hesitantly. " Actually, that's why I'm here; to talk to you about that. The war, and your time with him. If it's alright by you. I just have some questions."
John was slightly taken aback again, but he recovered.
"Er, yes, of course. It's natural to want to know more concerning the death of a loved one-"
"I don't think he is!" Parker blurted out. She looked down, then up again. "Dead, that is."
John looked at her gently. His voice was dipped with pity as a he replied, "I know that it's difficult to come to terms with, but Parker, I read about the bombing. No one survived.
She looked at him, her expression hardened with belief.
"His body was never identified."
" Many of the victims… They were burned beyond identification, even with dental records." Shredding her desperate hope with each word.
"But that's not it! I would know if he was dead!"
It was tearing John apart. Protect the girl's last shards of hope, or not disguise reality?
"How?" He asked, with his own sort of desperation. " Parker, I'm sorry, but there's… there's no way he could have survived those blasts. How could he be alive?"
She stared at him with a fierce determination. He wished she could just see it, just accept the fact that Chris was gone. It was futile of course. No child wants to accept that they're fatherless.
" I don't know," she replied, " but I know he isn't dead." She saw John about to intervene again, and quickly continued. "Wait! Hear me out. I lost mum a few years ago-"
Jesus Christ. An orphan.
"- and dad knew that heading off to the war could leave me parentless. So he set up an account, in the bank. No one was given the authorization code to open it, not even his broker. My father was a very secretive man, who had a considerable amount of wealth that he didn't want the wrong people to get their hands on. He had a small chip implanted in his wrist that measured his pulse. If it ever were to stop for a certain amount of time, a signal would activate an email which would send me the code to the vault."
John looked at her, not knowing why she was telling him this.
"So…"
Parker looked him dead in the eyes. " I never got the code."
" Did you consider-" John began.
"That the chip was faulty? That chip contained my entire future if my father were to die. Do you think he would risk to use faulty or cheap equipment?"
Sherlock Holmes, who had barely said a word since Parker entered the flat, suddenly stood up and clapped his hands together with a grin on his face.
"We'll take the case!"
Hey, so this is my first run at a Sherlock fanfic, but I love the characters wanted to try something new. Please review, and PM me any suggestions you may have. I also I am trying to write an OC into the story while still staying true to the characters and their scenarios. Thanks :)