A Love Story Mystery
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Eleven year old Laurie Watson had enough. Her godfather, Sherlock Holmes, has been sitting on a seat opposite of her in the same position - hands clasped together and eyes closed - for hours.
She stood up, walked in front of him carefully and waved her hand in front of his face.
No reaction.
"Sherlock?" She timidly called.
No Reaction.
Suddenly, a grim thought came over her.
She neared her index finger to his nose.
"Laurie-"
Sherlock never got to finish his sentence. Laurie was already screaming in shock.
For a moment, Sherlock was in shock too, considering his experience on young girls screaming at his face. He stood up, but his tall figure managed to make matters worse.
"This isn't going well."
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Laurie ate the juice and bread Sherlock prepared for her. She looked at him, who was looking at space with that look again.
"Don't you want to eat?" Laurie asked.
"No," he said not taking his eyes off whatever his looking at, with that same low voice he always uses at her.
"Okay," She said as she continued to eat her bread. She swallowed. "I'm sorry I woke you up."
"I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking." He said, with that same apathetic low voice he always used with her.
"What were you thinking about?"
"Nothing you should be concerned about."
Laurie looked down at her plate. She was never really close with Sherlock. She only sees him whenever her father and mother decide to take her to visit him. Even then, he never talks to her, like other adults greet her about her studies and such. He merely says an uninterested "hi" or the famous "Oh, you brought your daughter" before he babbles about something she's not really interested in (and she couldn't understand- he always talks too fast). But the event that happened early this morning was giving her a lot of questions, and she did not have anyone to ask but him.
"Laurie, listen, there had been an accident with your mum. Stay with Sherlock for a while, okay? She needs me now."
"Will mum be all right?"
That finally caught his interest, because he finally looked at her.
"Laurie, due to the fact that your father called me immediately after the car accident, I didn't have time to investigate the scene nor the bodies involved. I can only guess that since the impact killed the driver, there is a chance that she may not survive."
"You mean she'll die."
"No, I'm saying you should be ready for whatever would happen." Sherlock said, as kindly and honestly as he could, but he still managed to make her upset.
Sherlock sighed inwardly. Why is it so hard to tell people the truth without hurting them? It was kinder after all. It was better than telling her that her mother will be okay, only for her to find out that she's not, and never will be.
He put on his most friendly smile. "What do you want to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"The more you stay idle, the more you'll worry about your mother. So think of anything that you want to do to distract yourself. How about a game? Or maybe you would want to see the things in the flat?"
"No, thanks. Dad said not to explore anything in your flat anyways. He says I might… see things."
"Of course he did." he said absentmindedly to himself more than to her. "Well, why don't you suggest?"
Laurie thought for a while. "Tell me a story."
"A story?" Sherlock said, as he rummaged his mind for a decent story to tell a child, but oddly the only thing that came to his mind was what happened the night Mrs. Summers was brutally murdered and left to die. Somehow, he didn't think her father would be pleased that her daughter learned that story. "What kind of story?"
"I don't know." She paused to think for a moment. "Oh, I know! You can tell me a love story. I mean when did you meet your first girlfriend?"
"I never had a girlfriend."
"You never had a girlfriend?" Laurie said with disbelief.
"No."
"How about the story of when you met your first boyfriend?" She said uncertainly.
Sherlock laughed. "You truly have your father's imagination, haven't you? I never had a boyfriend."
"Well, if you never had a girlfriend, and you never had a boyfriend, what do you have? Do you have a dog or something?"
"I have my work, and that's all I need."
"Oh," Laurie took a moment to look at him, as if to try to understand if there are really people like that, but then decided to just shrug it off. "Whatever. So, if you don't have your love story to tell, maybe you can tell me dad's. Mom always said that she wouldn't have ended up with dad if it weren't for you."
Sherlock smirked. "Considering the number of girlfriends John had, I think his love story would bore you to death."
"But I won't get bored. It's my parent's love story after all." Laurie insisted, and for the first time since she came here, her eyes wide with excitement. "Oh, please, tell me the story, Uncle Sherlock! Please."
"No."
"But why?"
"I'm the world's first and only consulting detective, not some romance-loving, overly emotionally exaggerating storyteller."
"But you can at least try. I know you can do it. I mean you could do anything! They said you once fell on a hundred storey building and lived." She said excitedly. "Besides, you can skip to the important stuff and just tell the story of the important girls. I'm sure you can do that!"
"No." Sherlock said with determinacy.
"But-"
"Laurie, I once negotiated with one of the most dangerous man in Britain and won. There's no point in arguing with me."
"But, I'm your best friend's daughter! And I'm also your goddaughter. Don't I get an exception?"
Sherlock took a moment to observe her. "You really want to hear the story, do you?"
"Yes."
Sherlock smiled mischievously. "Fine."
"Really?"
"Really. But let's make it interesting, shall we? I'm changing all the names, and some of the facts."
"Fine."
"And considering that I'm not even present on some of these events you could expect that I would use some artistic license."
"Fine." she said though truthfully she did not know what artistic license means.
"You just have to guess who your mother is yourself. Like a game."
"I love it; it's like a love story mystery."
"Shall we start?"
"Wait." Laurie rested her head on her hands. "Okay, start."
"Once upon a time, there was a man named John Watson. . .