This is my first Sherlock story, so be nice to me and give it a chance.
Enjoy.
The little girl with short blond hair walked slowly down the corridor in her house. The rain lashed hard and fast at the windows, thunder roaring like a wild animal and lightening cracked like a whip in the air, scaring the little girl. Grabbing the side of her white night gown, she stopped walking. Her breathing was fast as the wind whispered the secrets of the dead outside and tried to get into the house. Calming herself she remembering what her parents said.
"There's no such thing as monsters in the dark," she whispered to herself and she started to repeat it in her head.
The little blond girl was six years of age, with better grades than anyone else in her year group. She had a pale face, her blue eyes like diamonds. She reached the end of the corridor in her house, turned the corner, and stood outside the big double doors that lead into her parent's bedroom. The little girl's heartbeat quickened, as she knew something was wrong as soon as she saw the door. It was a few centimetres open, and her parents never had the door open, even a little.
As the rain and wind lashed at the windows to the rhythm of the thunderclaps that had started to roar every ten seconds and the lightening whipping like mad, the little blonde girl opened her parent's bedroom door.
This is the story of a case where things turned personal for Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes had got the call about two dead parents and a little girl still alive at around eleven thirty at night. It wasn't an interesting case, a five, maybe six (and he doesn't leave the house for a six or less). Both parents dead in the bed, child still alive, no signs of how the killer had got in apart from the bedroom door open a few centimetres and the child claiming that it was always closed. However, Sherlock knew the people that lived at that address and that moved it up straight to a ten and beyond!
Sherlock jumped out of the taxi outside the house. He closed the door remembering that John was seeing Harry and spending two days away to do something he called 'family time'. The army doctor would be back tomorrow afternoon.
The young consultant detective walked up to the big white fancy, posh house. The police officer outside the house let Sherlock right in, knowing who he was. Was it just Sherlock or did the police force have very few people working for them? They always seemed to have the same police officers at the crime scenes he goes to.
Walking straight into the hall, he saw nothing unusual. There was a smooth wooden floor that leads, if you followed, into a large kitchen. Before the kitchen, about two meters before, there was door on your left that led into a large living room. Right in front of Sherlock were the stairs that led to the second floor. Just in front of the stairs on his right was an open door that led into a large dining room. Sherlock walked up the stairs. He then had the choice of going up more stairs to the final third floor, left into a child's bedroom or right into some sort of playroom. Sherlock walked up the stairs, still seeing nothing unusual. When he reached the top of the stairs, to his left was the bedroom where the parents were dead and to his right was the father's study...
... Where the little blonde girl was.
"Sherlock," DI Lestrade said and Sherlock's attention was all his. Walking into the study, Sherlock scanned the shelves of the books that were upon them. There was a chair with the little girl sitting on it, back to him. When the little girl heard that name, she turned, her short hair flying outwards. Sherlock walked into the room, one slowly foot step at a time, his feet making a sound on the wooden floor.
"DI," replied Sherlock, nodding. "Hello Lily Kittson," he said, finally looking at the girl. Lestrade sighed, turning away.
"How'd you guess that this time Sherlock?" the DI snapped, more than frustrated. However, before he could say another word, the girl hand jumped off her chair and run at Sherlock who had fallen to his knees and hugged her.
"Oh, Lily... Lily, Lily, Lily," Sherlock said, hugging her tightly as she wept in his arms. Lestrade's mouth was wide open in pure shock and he shared a very confused look with Anderson who had just walked into the room. "Oh, right, I know who she is because she is my cousin," Sherlock said after a while of silence.
The silence continued...
"God bless that child," Anderson moaned, turning away back to the crime scene.
"Forget that, you've got a job to do," Lestrade said, pointing at Sherlock. "Now damn do it," and with those words, Sherlock got to work.
Sherlock slowly opened the door to 221B Backer Street, with his cousin on his back and a little pink suitcase with flowers on it, in hand. Closing the door quietly behind him, he held one of her arms with his free hand as he quickly ran up the stairs.
"Sherlock! Is that you dear?" Mrs Hudson's voice came from downs stairs. Sherlock could hear Lily's breath, calm and lazy, indicating that she was sleeping.
Mrs Hudson couldn't know.
Not until morning anyhow.
There'd be too many questions.
Sherlock acted quickly and jumped into his room. He lay Lily on the bed carefully and put the covers over her. He then slid the case under his bed, ran into the living room, and picked up a book.
"Yes Mrs Hudson, It is I!" Sherlock declared. The old landlady came into the room and smiled.
"Oh good," she said, clearly relieved. "Thought it was someone trying to get in for a second then. Would you like a cup of tea love?" she asked kindly, trying hard not to show how tired she was, but Sherlock could see that she was. He saw everything.
"No thank you Mrs Hudson, I was about to retire myself anyhow," he said and Mrs Hudson bid him goodnight. She then left and went downs stairs.
Sherlock sighed and threw he book on the floor. He got up and made his way to his bedroom. Looking down at his cousin, he realised how much she looked like an angel, so peaceful. Unable to think he sat down on the bed. He remembered back at the crime scene that his mind had gone blank. They were his aunt and uncle. For a strange reason, Sherlock's brain didn't work; it could pick up the clues, but couldn't piece them together. He knew it was because they were family, but that shouldn't put him off his work. He was getting emotional about it all... It was unprofessional.
Suddenly tired, Sherlock got in the bed with Lily and drifted off to sleep.
Sleepily, in the morning, Sherlock poured himself a cup of coffee. He yawned, for once in his life feeling this tired in the morning. Maybe he had woken up too early. However, looking at the clock to see that it said nine forty-five in the morning, he knew that it wasn't due to the time he'd woken up at.
"Oh Sherlock! The elves have left something in your bed!" Mrs Hudson cried from his room. Sherlock moaned and walked to his room. He poked his head round the doorframe and saw Lily still sleeping.
"No Mrs Hudson, that's Lily, my cousin. She'll be staying with me for a while," with that he walked off. A few seconds later, he poked his head round the doorframe again. "And elves don't exist you silly old woman," he said and a few seconds later you could hear the TV on.
"How long's a while Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson said, walking out the room worried for the child.
What do you think?
Any suggestions are welcome as to what you'd like to see in this fic.
Review please!