Sinner

Chapter 1

John Watson had to admit that it was nice to finally have a day off. All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, meaning that even Sherlock had been forced to accept that it would be wise to stay in.

Sherlock was currently sprawled out on the chair, his long legs stretched languidly in front of him. For most of the day he had seemed content reading some scientific book that John had little knowledge of. However he was currently stood by the window, staring out at the elemental forces with a scowl on his face.

John didn't look up from his own book as Sherlock spoke, scorn evident in his voice. "It's ridiculous, John."

He sighed. "It's October, Sherlock. It's what the weather does."

"Yes but why now." He bounced irritably on the balls of his feet and threw his hands up into the air. "I'm bored."

John couldn't help but compare him to a child. He half expected him to start throwing some kind of tantrum. "Why don't you go and work on one of your experiments? That one on the kitchen table still hasn't done anything."

He turned quickly to face him, before starting to pace around the room. "I can't. The ears exploded in the microwave and somebody removed the fingers from the bathtub." He glared at John before continuing his pacing.

"How am I expected to shower with fingers in the bath?"

Sherlock didn't answer but came to a sudden halt and sighed. "Mycroft's here. Something's wrong."

John looked up from his book, startled. "Mycroft? How an earth did you know that?"

Once again he ignored John and threw himself back into his chair, his legs once again stretched dangerously across the floor.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, confirming Sherlock's theory. John placed the book back on the table just as the door opened. Surprisingly Mrs Hudson was not with him, and he assumed that she must have been out. He found it odd, especially in this kind of weather. However, he wasn't surprised however to see that Mycroft had not bothered to knock.

"You finally got some proper use out of that umbrella then," Sherlock observed, a mocking smile on his face as he watched his brother place the slightly damp object against the wall.

Mycroft didn't answer but the corner of his mouth pulled down slightly.

Sherlock was the first to notice the paleness of his brother's skin and his heavy eyes, features shown only on a man weighed down with some great anxiety. On further observation he noticed that his tie wasn't tied as neatly as it usually was and his shirt had become slightly un-tucked from his trousers. "What is it you want to tell us?"

Before speaking Mycroft took the seat nearest to Sherlock, crossed his legs and straightened his jacket. "I have something of importance to tell you." He looked at John and frowned at him. "Perhaps it would be best if we were alone."

John was about to stand but Sherlock stopped him. "Whatever you have to say you might as well say it with John present. I'm assuming it's about a case."

"Yes, amongst other things." When it became clear that John wasn't going to leave he continued. "There's been a murder at a local university. A young man, twenty years old." He reached into his pocket and took out several photographs before handing them to Sherlock. "These symbols were found written on the wall next to the body."

Sherlock studied the photos in his hand. "I'm guessing you already know what they mean."

"Of course."

He handed the photos over to John. The first few pictures showed a bloodied corpse on a floor. It was obvious, even to John, that the death had been due to a sharp object being plunged repeatedly into him. There was also an awful lot of blood. The last picture however was different. It showed a white wall, empty apart from several symbols painted in what seemed to be blood. "What do they mean?" he asked.

"It's Greek. The rough translation is avarice." At John's blank look he continued. "It means greed." He turned back to Mycroft. "What else? Their must be more to it then a murder and some Greek symbols."

Suddenly Mycroft seemed uncomfortable. "When the police arrived at the crime scene there was already a young woman lying unconscious near the body. She was holding the knife that was used to kill him." Reaching once again into his pocket he took out another photograph. "The police think she did it but I have my doubts."

Sherlock took the picture and John watched as the blood drained from his face. His eyes flicked back and forth between his brother and the photo. "Is this some kind of joke?" he snapped.

"I'm afraid not."

John was once again confused. "What is it?"

Sherlock stood up, shoving the photo into John's hands. He studied it carefully, quickly realising that it must have been a photo of the girl Mycroft had been talking about. The girl in question had black, curly hair that reached her shoulders. Her complexion was pale and her cheekbones were high. In fact, she reminded him of…

Mycroft interrupted before he could complete the thought. "It's true, Sherlock, you have a younger sister."

John's mouth opened in surprise at Mycroft's words. He looked at the faces of both brothers, expecting one of them to start laughing. However, Sherlock was running his hands angrily through his hair whilst pacing irritably and Mycroft was staring at him with an emotion that John had never seen on his face before. It took him a moment to place it. Mycroft was feeling guilty.

Sherlock spoke suddenly. "Why was I not told about this?"

"It didn't seem important." Sherlock scoffed but let Mycroft continue. "It was an unexpected pregnancy. Mother knew that you wouldn't react well to the news. Of course, she was going to tell you after Anna was born but after your little 'problem' she felt as if it was best you didn't know. Once Anna had moved out it simply didn't seem important."

Sherlock sat down abruptly and pressed his fingers to his mouth, deep in thought. It was several minutes before he spoke again. "I need to see the crime scene."

Even Mycroft seemed surprised at the sudden change in conversation. "The crime scene?"

"Yes, the crime scene. That is what you wanted me to do? Solve the murder."

"Of course." He stood suddenly. "There's a car already waiting outside for you." He made to move towards the door but turned back to look at Sherlock, almost as if he was going to say something. However he changed his mind at the last moment, pausing to pick up his umbrella before leaving.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable and would have stretched on for a long time if John hadn't spoken first. "What the hell just happened?"

Sherlock looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Really, John. Is it becoming that hard for you to keep up? I never thought you to be a genius but I thought you could at least keep track of a simple conversation."

"I'd hardly call that a simple conversation. You just found out you've got a sister."

He shrugged offhandedly. "It's irrelevant." Grabbing his coat he slipped it on before winding his scarf around his neck. "We have a murder to solve. Now are you coming or not?"

Sherlock walked out of the room, not bothering to turn around to see if John was following. Of course he knew John was coming, curiosity always got the better of him.

This is my first Sherlock fanfiction so I'm unsure of how it turned out. I'm open to suggestions and constructive criticism, and of course reviews are always welcome.

In case anyone cares, here are the Greek symbols - Φιλαργυρία.