Continuation of Chapter 1...
~Sherlock~
Once we arrived to 221 Baker St, I reluctantly entered, dreading what was to come. We walked upstairs and Sherlock flung open the door. I watched as he plopped himself onto the nearby couch.
A few moments later, I was seated in the chair in front of him. It was eerily quiet. Not one word was spoken as he gazed intently at me, his hands folded beneath his chin. I kept staring at the ground, not being able to face him.
"Where?" He didn't have to elucidate his meaning behind the question. I understood what he was asking.
"I've been with Rylee." I answered, finding the ground more interesting to study at the moment. "Her family was kind enough to take me in."
"And you didn't tell anyone?"
"Heh, I thought it wouldn't really matter if I was gone or not." I said like it should be obvious. "It's not like I'm important or anything. I'm kind of surprised you haven't deleted me from your memory."
"Delete you?!"
John and I both looked at him. Was it just us, or did he actually sound a bit hurt from the accusation? He even looked like he couldn't believe I would accuse him of such a thing.
"John," The doctor looked up when Sherlock said his name. "Could we have a moment?"
"Of course." John immediately went up the stairs into his bedroom, being sure to take his computer with him. Once he left, I felt even more nervous. I clasped my hands together, toying with my fingers waiting for him to speak.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, bowing my head with shame.
"You're sorry?" Sherlock repeated.
"I thought you didn't need me. I thought...I thought you didn't care." Once I started to speak, I couldn't stop. "I grew up thinking I was just a big disappointment to you. I mean, I wasn't a genius. I wasn't anyone spectacular! I was normal. A normal kid. Still am. I just couldn't handle it. So I left, thinking it would be easier for the both of us but instead, I made my life a living hell. I missed you so much but I couldn't bring myself to come home. I kept seeing your name everywhere. Sherlock Holmes solves this, or Sherlock Holmes solves that...I couldn't take it." My breath hitched as I covered my face with my hands, struggling to keep the tears from flowing. "So I changed my name. I went by Larkin Blackwood, the kid with no parents. I was an orphan...Well, that was how everyone knew me as. I never corrected them. It made it easier for me. Only Rylee knew the truth. And her family. Then Rylee got an apartment and I moved in with her. There were so many times I would see you running out and about, and I was scared you'd recognize me, but you were so engrossed in whatever case you were working on that I never really had to worry."
"Curse it!" Sherlock suddenly slammed his fist down on the table and I jumped, eyes wide. "How could I not have noticed?! How did I not realize?" He muttered to himself, jumping up and pacing back and forth. "Five years, Darcee. Five years Mycroft and I searched for you."
I hung my head again, biting my lower lip as it began to tremble. I was not about to cry in front of him!
"I nearly drove myself insane!"
"Because you could never solve my disappearance?" I asked him with a dark look. "Because I happened to stump you?" I knew how much he hated being outsmarted and how much he despised not being able to solve a case. He spun on his heel to look at me.
"Because I couldn't find you!" He snapped and I leaned back against the chair in surprise. "We looked. We searched. We thought you had been taken by someone, Darcee! Then I found your bag missing and some of your things and realized you had left. Gods!"
I didn't know what to say. Then again, I didn't think I would even want to say anything. I lowered my eyes onto the table and found the file that John had been talking about earlier lying, open, on the table. There were pictures of me when I was younger, letters I had written, and notes Sherlock had jotted down when trying to solve my disappearance, and a map tracing everywhere he and Mycroft had looked. I stared at it in disbelief.
"Gosh...It's all my fault!" I muttered, shaking my head. "I've wasted five years of my life...But..."
"You're still confused." Sherlock noted as he sat back down. "I thought you would have realized this when you were younger, Darcee, but I don't quite understand feelings. I don't..." He waved his hands around, searching for the right word to say.
"I know." I whispered, understanding what he was trying to tell me. "At least...I know that now." My shoulders slumped a bit.
"You weren't a disappointment, Darcee, but it appears I made you feel that way."
"No!" I immediately snapped my head up. "It wasn't you! It was me! It was all me! I would watch you every day, testing out your experiments, solving whatever mysteries the police threw at you, listened to you deduce things about everyone and everything just from one glance...Then there was Mycroft and him. I felt terrible for not being as smart as you. I felt like I failed you because I wasn't interested in the same things you were. I let you down. I mean...you guys were, and still are, amazing! I was dull and...an idiot."
"Everyone's an idiot." Sherlock pointed out and I couldn't help but smile a bit at that.
"I thought Mycroft was a goldfish." I reminded him and could have sworn his lips twitched at that.
"Oh, he is."
I grinned then averted my eyes, the grin fading away. I struggled to keep myself composed. I didn't want to appear weak in front of him but the tears blurred my vision. I furiously blinked them away, looking up at the ceiling.
"Gosh. Stop, Larkin...Stop." I stood up. "Well...I should go now." I hastily said, walking towards the door but he beat me to it, keeping a hand on it, preventing me from escaping.
"Go? You think that now that I've found you, I'm going to let you go?" He asked.
"This is already hard enough." I growled but didn't move. I couldn't bring myself to.
"Darcee...You are not leaving. Not again."
"I think I can make that decision for myself," I told him.
"You wouldn't be able to do it. Once you stepped out of this door, you'd turn around and come back." He said and I closed my eyes. He was right...But I wasn't about to admit that. "You couldn't bear leaving a second time."
"Just let me go." Before it gets any harder.
"...Fine." He opened the door. I stood there for a moment, inhaled deeply, and walked out.
'Keep going, Larkin. Keep going...' I urged myself, heading for the stairs. I could feel his gaze burning into my back and forced myself to continue, struggling to repress the urge to turn around and run back. Oh...To heck with it! I paused at the top of the stairs, staring down at them. Was it really worth it? I would never forgive myself if I walked out on him now. Five years. Five years I hid myself from him and tortured myself for having made such a decision but I never went back fearing he would be disappointed. I pursed my lips together, remembering everything I had been through for the past five years. The pain of having left, the sadness, anger... I exhaled shakily, clutching the banister. Could I stay with him? Could I handle it? Would I be able to? I don't know how long it was that I stood there, but I was getting fed up with all these doubtful and negative thoughts I kept having.
"Darcee?"
"Gosh dangit!" I shouted, driving my fist against the wall. I felt a hand grasp my shoulder and spun around, throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms tightly around him and burying my face into his shirt. "I can't! I can't do it!"
I felt him freeze but didn't dare move. After a moment, I was about to pull away when I felt him slowly pat my back.
"I know." He whispered, softly.
"I'm sorry...I should never have left. I'm such an idiot!"
"Yes, you are." He agreed and I pulled away to glare at him.
Seriously?
"But you're my little idiot." He smirked at the face I made when he said that. I remembered him calling me that when I was younger.
"Sherlock? What's with all the ruckus?" I heard a woman's voice call out and looked to see an elderly woman with short, reddish blonde hair, and greenish brown eyes walking up the stairs to the flat. She looked up and paused on the steps, first looking at me then Sherlock. "Oh? A client?" she questioned.
"No." Sherlock answered, grasping my shoulder again. "It appears, Mrs. Hudson, that my daughter's finally returned home."
"Daughter?!" Mrs. Hudson repeated, not bothering to hide the look of shock that crossed her features.
"She will be staying with us, Mrs. Hudson. Would you happen to have a spare room?" Sherlock inquired and Mrs. Hudson shook herself from her daze while I looked at Dad in shock. I was staying with them?
Well, of course, you idiot! What did you expect? I mentally berated myself. I was suddenly feeling excited and nervous but extremely happy.
I was back. I was home again.
I was quite surprised by this. A part of me still didn't know how to feel about this. It had been five years, as I was fond of reminding myself. How different would things be?
~Sherlock~
A few days later, after Sherlock and John had wrapped up The Great Game mystery, John and I were seated around the kitchen table, having a nice conversation.
"So, you're staying?" John asked as we took a seat at the table. Sherlock had rushed out earlier to talk to Lestrade, leaving John and I to amuse ourselves.
"Looks that way." I shrugged, leaning back against my chair, chewing on a biscuit.
"So...Sherlock's daughter?"
"Yup. Don't worry, I'm nothing like him." I told John. "I'm normal."
"No offense," John started, "But that's quite a relief." He admitted and I smirked.
"He drives you nuts, doesn't he?"
"Sometimes." John nodded in agreement. "But it's never boring."
"Oh, I imagine."
"How old are you?" John asked, setting the newspaper down and checking his macbook.
"Fifteen. Almost sixteen." I answered and John looked a bit surprised.
"Wow. So you were ten when you...left, then."
"Yeah. I don't know whether I should be happy to be back...or...I just don't know how to feel, period."
"I understand." John gave a slight grin. "That's how I felt when I came back from Afghanistan."
"Soldier?"
"Army doctor."
"How'd you meet Sherlock?" I asked him and John told me the story of how they met during the Study in Pink and how they bought the flat from Mrs. Hudson and the adventures they had gone on during the past months. I listened intently and laughed on multiple occasions as John told me all the weird things he had to do for the man. My favorite was John having a row with a machine in the store. "Oh goodness..." I wiped a few tears from my eyes and shook my head in disbelief. "That sounds like something you'd only see in the movies!"
"Yes. I thought so at first." John sighed. "I feel like I'm living in a movie."
"I like you." I randomly told him and John was at a loss of what to say. "You're very nice and patient. How you put up with the man is beyond me."
"Oh...Thank-you?"
I laughed then John asked me about my life.
"Oh, it's all boring." I told him. "I went to America with Rylee's family, I got a small job, went to school. Really, nothing interesting has ever happened."
"Your arm," John suddenly said and I looked at him.
"Yeah?"
"You don't use it much." He noted. "I've noticed you're very careful with it." He motioned to my left arm and I nodded.
"Car accident." I offered as an explanation, gingerly setting my arm on the table.
"What happened?" John asked, neither of us noticing the person leaning against the door frame, listening to our conversation.
"I was walking home from the library and wasn't paying attention when I started crossing the street. There was a police chase going on, I think, and the car swerved around the corner. It hit me and rammed me into an incoming bus."
John winced in sympathy.
"I was jammed between the car and the bus until the authorities managed to get me out. My arm, I guess, was bent in two different angles and by the time the doctors tried to fix it, they found that it was permanently damaged. They fixed it as best they could but told me it would probably be weak for the rest of my life."
"Sorry." John apologized and I laughed again.
"It wasn't your fault. I should've been paying better attention. Man, I'd never felt so much pain in my life." I shook my head, my arm throbbing when I recalled the memory of that day. "It isn't that bad, either. It's been getting stronger."
"That's good."
"Yeah." I heard the timer go up and jumped out of my seat, walking over to the stove to stir the hot chocolate I had made. When I turned around, it was to find that Sherlock had returned home and was looking into the fridge for something. "Oh, you're back."
"Solve the case?" John asked Sherlock, who groaned.
"It was the daughter. They didn't notice the key chain she left on the table." He told us and John rolled his eyes.
"Only you would notice something like that, Sherlock."
"It was so obvious." Sherlock stressed to John before wandering over to whatever experiment he had going on. I frowned deeply. It was awkward for me to be here. I had no idea what to say or what to do around him. I shrugged and was thankful John was here. He made me feel welcome and at home. "I'm bored!" The consulting detective moaned in despair, flinging his beaker across the room, the glass shattering when it impacted the wall. I quirked an eyebrow.
Yup, he didn't change at all.
Sherlock stalked into the other room and John immediately shot out of his chair.
"Oh, no you don't!" He immediately jerked the handgun from Sherlock's hand. "No more!"
"But I'm bored, John! Bored, bored, bored!" He slumped onto the couch and John shook his head.
"It's like dealing with a child!" He said, pointing a finger at Sherlock. "Go find yourself another case!"
"But I already solved all the ones Lestrade had."
"Then you can look at the papers. They should have something."
"It was the houseboy." Came the immediate response.
"How...Nevermind." John waved a hand dismissively in the air. "I've learned not to ask that question a long time ago. There will be a case soon enough.'
I listened as Sherlock and John bickered back and forth, which ended with John throwing his hands in the air in frustration and retreating to the kitchen while I wandered over to the window to watch the people on the street. I was also bored. I sighed and pulled out my phone to find that I had five texts from Rylee.
'Hey, where are you? ~Rylee~'
'Larkin? ~Rylee~'
'Larkin, why aren't you answering me? ~Rylee~'
'Is everything alright? ~Rylee~'
'Larkin, you're worrying me. You should've been home hours ago! ~Rylee~'
I felt guilty when I realized that Rylee was probably going over her head with worry and texted back.
'Sorry, something came up. ~L.B.~'
'Is everything alright? ~Rylee~'
'Yeah...Just ran into my dad. ~L.B.~'
'Oh my gosh! What? ~Rylee~'
'Let's just say I was kidnapped and he managed to find me in time. ~L.B.~'
Instead of receiving a text, my phone began ringing. I answered it.
"Rylee."
"Larkin! Are you alright? What happened? Tell me everything." The woman rushed out, clearly worried. I grinned and retreated upstairs so that I could talk to her.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"What happened?"
"I was walking to your apartment when two men abducted me." Rylee gasped in horror. "It's alright, Rylee! I was left in an abandoned building and Sherlock managed to find me."
"Are you doing okay? I know how nervous you were about seeing him again."
"I think I'm okay...It's weird seeing him again but...I don't know. I'm still a little confused."
"Well, if you ever need anything or you need to escape, you're always welcome to stay with me or my parents. You know that, right?"
"Yeah. Thanks a lot, Rylee." I thanked her.
"Anytime. I guess I'll let you go. I have work in half an hour. Can't be late."
"Right. Talk to you later."
"You too!"
"Bye!" we chimed and hung up. I kept smiling as I went back downstairs. Rylee was very easy to talk to. She could understand nearly everything you were trying to say without having to explain everything to her. She was a good three years older than me but a dear friend. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was nearly bowled over by an excited Sherlock.
"Case! We've got a case!" He exclaimed with glee, clasping his hands together. "Oh, it's Christmas!" He cheered, darting into his room before rushing out.
"Sherlock!" John shouted after him. "Someone's been murdered! As in, they're dead! You shouldn't be so happy about that!"
"But, John, I finally have a case!" Sherlock called back, running past me again. "Come along now!" He tugged John out of his chair and towards the door.
"Alright! Alright!" John relented, tugging his hands away and throwing on a coat. I smirked as I watched them. They bolted out of the door and pounded down the stairs. I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms and stared at the skull Sherlock had on the mantle. I rolled my eyes. He still had that darn skull. The door flew open again and Sherlock reappeared.
"Forgot something?" I asked him. He looked over.
"Are you coming or not?" He asked. I slowly straightened, giving him an odd look. "Hurry! We don't have time to waste!" He urged and I followed them out the door into the cab that was waiting.
~Sherlock~
When the cab started going down a familiar route, I grew worried. I kept peering out the window and grew even more nervous when we drew closer to our destination. I happened to glance out the window and saw the police cars parked in front of a familiar apartment building.
"Darcee? You're looking quite pale, are you alright?" John asked, concerned. Once the cab stopped, I jumped out and bolted, faintly hearing them shout at me as I ducked beneath the police tape and sprinted into the house.
"Rylee!" I called out, startling many of the officers inside. "Rylee!"
"Who the devil are you?" The person I recognized as DI Lestrade demanded to know but I paid him no attention.
"Where's Rylee?" I asked him.
"Larkin!" Rylee's tear-strained voice reached me as she rushed out of the room nearby and flung herself at me, wrapping her arms tightly around me as she sobbed.
"Rylee! What's happened? Are you alright?!" I asked her, reciprocating the embrace. Rylee shook her head, her body wracked with sobs.
"It's awful!" Rylee bawled and I immediately lead her over to the nearby couch to have a seat.
"Calm yourself, Rylee. What's happened?" I asked her, rocking back and forth in a soothing manner.
"Jason...Jason c-came...to my ap-p-partment..." Rylee tried to explain between breaths. "I-I don't know w-why! He...I found him...He was murdered!"
"What?!" It took a moment for what she said to sink in. Rylee didn't say anything more, settling for crying from the shock and horror of finding a dead man in her apartment. When I looked up, it was to find Sherlock and John wandering into the room I'm guessing Jason's body was. Oh, Rylee was going to be traumatized. I kept comforting my friend. Jason Hemstone...What the heck was he doing in my friend's apartment? Who murdered him and why?
"Who're you?" A man stepped out and looked at me with suspicion. I looked up at him, immediately disliking him.
"No one of your concern." I told him, soothingly rubbing my friend's back.
"We're going to have to take Miss. Granger in for questioning."
"You can talk to her later." I said and the man narrowed his eyes.
"We need to take her now-"
"She's traumatized, idiot! There's no way she could handle answering your questions! Now would you mind turning yourself around? Your face is putting me off."
"What?" The man blinked and most of the officers around shared a look.
"Where have I heard that line before?" Lestrade wondered aloud just as Sherlock and John stepped out of the room. I shrugged. "Find anything, Sherlock?"
"The knife isn't the murder weapon. The cut's too fresh, meaning they did it after he was dead." Sherlock informed the DI. "He was poisoned just before he arrived. He was looking for something. An item..."
"So he broke into Rylee's apartment?" I asked and he nodded.
"Whatever he was looking for, he believed Rylee had it. What he didn't know was he was being followed. Someone set him up. But there is no sign of forced entry, meaning they had some means of getting in."
"But...Only I and Rylee have the key to the apartment." I slowly told him. "There's no way someone else was able to get in."
"Unless the door was already unlocked."
"Doubt it. I always lock it when I leave." I shook my head and reached into my pocket to pull out the key. I didn't feel anything. "Wait...What...?" I dug deeper but still couldn't find it. "I never take it out..."
"What is it?" John asked me.
"My key...It's gone! But I always put it in my pocket and I never take it out!"
"You've been pick-pocketed." Sherlock murmured.
"That or those men took it from me when they abducted me." I scowled.
"You're Miss. Blackwood!" Lestrade snapped his fingers together in recognition. "But...Why is she with you, Sherlock?"
"Gods!" Sherlock exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "It must be so boring to be you. Isn't it obvious?" Everyone gave him a 'please explain,' look. "And you are who London depends on for protection yet you can't even wrap your little minds around simplest things!" John shook his head. "Your medical team couldn't even tell that man was poisoned, immediately thinking that the knife wound had to be the cause of death!"
"Do you have to insult everyone, Sherlock?" John asked the Detective, not expecting an answer.
"You could just tell them, you know?" I added.
"What's your name?" A woman nearby, who I recognized as Donovan, asked, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.
"I once went by Larkin Blackwood..."
"That's not your name?" Lestrade asked and I shook my head.
"My name's Darcee. Darcee Holmes." I answered and everyone reeled back in surprise. Donovan seemed to be the first to recover.
"So, the Freak has a sister? She like you, Freak?" She asked Sherlock and I couldn't help but feel anger towards her for addressing him like that.
"You're an idiot." Was what came out of my mouth when I addressed her. "Jealousy doesn't become you."
"Jealousy?" Donovan scoffed. "You think I'm jealous...of him?" She jerked a thumb in Sherlock's direction.
"Without him, you and the police would be lost and there would be murderers, thieves, and whatever other criminals running about London doing as they pleased and causing even more trouble. He's solved almost every case you couldn't, no thanks to you." I continued. "You just can't handle the fact that he's using his mind to its full capacity and is smarter than you lot. Sure he's a genius and at times irritating, but you don't have to be so cold to him. Not everyone's like you. Lord help us if everyone just can't accept the fact that every case you guys have been given have never once been solved by you guys, though you do love to take all the credit for it."
"Just who the heck are you?!" Donovan demanded, her fists clenched.
"I'm Darcie Holmes."
"You said that already! His sister?"
"My daughter." Sherlock corrected her and for the second time that day, was able to amuse himself from the looks he received.
"Say what!?" Anderson and Donovan's jaws dropped and even Lestrade stumbled back in surprise.
"Do I always have to repeat myself?" Sherlock muttered.
"Yes. Yes, you do." Lestrade nodded.
"Fine. I said, she was my daughter."
~Sherlock~
"Oh, that was tedious." Sherlock grumbled once we entered the flat.
"You're telling me." John agreed as he shut the door.
"I'm tired." Was all I said as I slumped onto the couch, face first into the pillow.
"Tired?" Sherlock scoffed. "You haven't done anything all day."
"You forget that I had bombs strapped to me earlier this morning. I've had quite an exciting day, if you ask me."
"It's true, Sherlock. So," John plopped down into his chair. "Did you solve the murder?"
"No." Sherlock replied, folding his hands over his chest. "Something doesn't add up. How did he get into the apartment? What was he looking for?"
"Well...It looks like you've got another case on your hands, then, Sherlock."
"Indeed, Watson. Indeed." The man agreed and I fell asleep listening to them discuss the case.
~Sherlock~
Not much action, I know. But hopefully the next chapters I have planned will be better :)
