A/N: Hey guys! Judging from the number of review my last chapter got, I'm guessing you all didn't enjoy it much? I didn't like that chapter either. Anyways, sorry for the long wait. I had a lot of stuff going on in school and a few problems with my 'friends' so I didn't get to work much on the story. I apologize if Sherlock's deduction here was lame. I don't have a brilliant mind like his and its hard to imagine what he would say from the body. Anyways, enjoy!
Chapter Four
Lestrade was confused.
A day ago he had sent Sherlock a message about a new case they were working on but for some strange reason the detective hadn't even contacted or shown up. Sally had told him not to worry.
"Freak probably got himself in trouble. Either way at least he's not here to make us feel like total idiots."
Lestrade had to admit though that without Sherlock, all the cases they solved together probably would have taken five times longer to solve.
Today, there was a dead woman found in an abandoned warehouse near the docks and it was quite a puzzle. Lestrade fired off a message to Sherlock telling him about the body and where to go if he wanted to. With a heavy sigh, he tucked the phone away and walked towards the dead woman on the ground.
"Any ID?" He asked Anderson. Anderson checked the woman's pockets and pulled out a wallet.
"Says her name is Jennifer White." Lestrade glanced at the body and winced as he saw her legs. Her ankles ended in a bloody stump and her feet were nowhere to be found.
"My God, what happened to her?" He asked in disgust. Anderson shrugged.
"I checked around the warehouse but whoever did this to her must've taken her feet as well. I wonder why someone would even take her feet. Why would they want it?" Anderson wondered loudly.
"Stop thinking, Anderson. You might hurt yourself." A cold voice said. Lestrade and Anderson turned around and saw Sherlock standing there with a frown on his face. Anderson's hands bunched up into fists and he glared angrily at the consulting detective.
"Oh, look who shows up again." Anderson said snarkily. Lestrade couldn't help but sigh in relief when he saw Sherlock.
"I thought you weren't going to show…" He drifted off as he spotted the baby in Sherlock's arms. She looked no older than six months. Lestrade cleared his throat and shuffled around before looking at Sherlock.
"Sherlock, please tell me you didn't kidnap that child." Lestrade half-pleaded. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Alright, I did not kidnap this child." He said sarcastically.
"Sherlock…" Lestrade warned.
"Her name is Ariadne and she is my daughter." Sherlock said huffily. Anderson and Lestrade gaped at the little girl in his arms.
"Your daughter." Anderson flatly. "You have a daughter?"
"Yes, Anderson I just said that." Sherlock said impatiently. Lestrade was speechless. Sherlock had a daughter? He looked closer at the baby and noticed the resemblance between them. Her striking blue eyes were almost an exact copy as Sherlock's except they were a bit warmer and sparkled happily. Her dark hair curled like his too. Anderson still looked at Sherlock skeptically.
"Who on Earth would want to shag you?" He asked incredulously.
"Sherlock, why don't you take a look at the body?" Lestrade said, cutting him off. Sherlock gave a quick nod.
"Sure. Anderson, watch her for a bit. If you drop her I will poison you." He threatened. Anderson protested as Sherlock handed the baby to him.
"But I don't-"
"Just make yourself useful for once." Sherlock said irritably. Anderson shut his mouth and stared at Ariadne. She stared right back at him. Her oddly focused gaze made him uncomfortable and he looked away from her.
Sherlock gazed down at the body and narrowed his eyes. Lestrade could almost hear the gears whirring in his brain. After examining the body and checking its pockets, he faced Lestrade.
"Her fiancé killed her." Sherlock said simply.
"How could you possibly know that?" Lestrade asked in wonder. No matter how many times Sherlock did his 'deductions' it still never failed to impress and amaze him.
"Its quite obvious, really. I'm surprised that Anderson didn't see the clues. There was a cufflink on the ground next to her, probably broke off during the struggle. There is an engraving on it which says, 'To Edward, Love Jenny" which probably means it belongs to her fiancé. Why do I keep saying fiancé? It's quite obvious from the engagement ring on her finger. Now, why would he kill her? There's a letter in her pocket addressed to Edward Pierce from a Ms. Isabella Smith. After a quick read over it I found that Ms. Isabella was Edward's mistress. When Jennifer found out she confronted him and he knocked her out, brought her here and wacked her repeatedly over the head making her bleed out and die."
Lestrade blinked. Anderson looked grumpy. Ariadne had been tugging on his hair and drooling all over him.
"What explains her missing feet?" He shot. Sherlock stared at him boredly.
"I believe that Edward has a foot fetish. That would explain why he took her feet after killing her. The only reason he stayed with her for that long was probably because of her feet. So he took it after killing her." Anderson looked annoyed.
"Humph. Now that you're done contaminating my crime scene you can take your demon spawn and- AH!" Ariadne promptly vomited down the front of his shirt and burst into tears. Lestrade laughed at Anderson's furious and disgusted expression as he stared down at the mess Ariadne made.
"Now you've upset her." Sherlock said crossly. Lestrade, however, could see an amused glint in his eyes as he took Ariadne away from Anderson. He glared at Sherlock furiously.
"I bet you've brainwashed her into doing that." He shouted. Sherlock ignored him and wiped Ariadne off with a handkerchief.
"Did Anderson's stupidity get to you?" He murmured smugly. Anderson opened his mouth to argue but Lestrade waved him off.
"Anderson, just leave it. Go clean yourself up." He ordered. Anderson shot a filthy look at Sherlock before stalking away angrily. Ariadne had calmed down and was now chewing Sherlock's scarf.
"If you excuse me, Lestrade. I think I'll need to feed Ariadne. Next time, try to find a more interesting case, ok?" Sherlock said as he walked off. Lestrade couldn't help but sigh as he watched the detective leave.
Sometimes he just didn't know what to expect with that man.
/
Sherlock walked off feeling proud of Ariadne. "You were brilliant." He praised her. "You should do that to Anderson more often." Ariadne gurgled happily and snuggled against him. Sherlock planted a kiss on her head and held her closer.
It still felt strange to him all this parenting business. He knew that John was worried that something would happen to Ariadne under his care and secretly, Sherlock worried the same thing. If something happened to her because of him, he'd never be able to forgive himself.
Ariadne's tugging on his scarf snapped him out of his thoughts and he glanced down at her. "Oh, alright let's get you home."
When the pulled up in front of the flat, Sherlock spotted a familiar black car parked nearby.
Mycroft.
With a heavy sigh, he paid the cabbie and got out of the taxi. He stalked over to the door, threw it open and stomped up the stairs. The door to the flat was opened slightly. He entered slowly and spotted Mycroft sitting in his chair.
"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock said through gritted teeth. Mycroft gave him a withering smile and stood up.
"So, this is Ariadne." He said, ignoring Sherlock. He eyed her surreptitiously and hesitantly reached out for her. To everyone's surprise she reached out for him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Mycroft but allowed him to take her from him.
Mycroft held her carefully. "She looks like you." He said. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Of course she does. Now tell me, why are you here?" He demanded. Mycroft looked away from Ariadne and looked at Sherlock.
"I just came to talk." He said, handing Ariadne back to Sherlock. He pulled out a file from his coat and opened it. He cleared his throat before continuing.
"Camille Morgan. Born April 16, 1985 in Dublin." He read out loud. Sherlock rolled his eyes and set Ariadne down in her crib.
"You actually went and dug up information on Ariadne's dead mother? Mycroft, can't you mind your own business?" He growled. Mycroft ignored him and kept reading.
"Was placed in the witness protection program in 2006 after James Moriarty broke out of jail. Reason for placement in program: Testified against James Moriarty in the trial leading to his arrest." He finished. Sherlock froze. He turned around and stared at Mycroft.
"Why are you telling me this? It doesn't matter anyways. She's gone." Sherlock said coldly. Mycroft looked at him in despair.
"What if he comes after the child, hmm? What will you do then?" He said sharply. Sherlock stiffened and glared at him.
"If he touches a single hair on her head, I will kill him." He spat.
"Just be careful, Sherlock. Don't bring her out too often. I will of course do my best to keep tabs on him but he's managed to elude us for quite a while. Camille might have thought she was safe. For all we know, he might have been keeping an eye on her for some time."
Sherlock glanced at Ariadne who was waving her tiny fists around and squealing happily, oblivious to the palpable tension between the two brothers. He sighed and looked back at Mycroft.
"Was Camille even her real name?" He asked quietly. Mycroft looked solemnly down at the file.
"Probably not. Most people entered into the witness protection programs get assigned a new name, a new identity."
Sherlock stayed silent. Mycroft opened the file again and handed Sherlock a piece of paper.
"What's this?" He asked.
"Ariadne's birth certificate. I managed to get a copy for you." Mycroft said. Sherlock looked at it for moment and then looked at Mycroft.
"Thank you." He said quietly. Mycroft gave him a regal nod and checked his watch.
"I should get going. Be careful, Sherlock." He warned before leaving the flat.
Sherlock closed his eyes and exhaled a breath. He opened them once more and walked over to Ariadne's crib. She had fallen asleep again and was sleeping peacefully, an arm thrown over a stuffed animal. Sherlock couldn't help but smile a little at this sight. He leaned down and brushed away a curl from her face. He grabbed John's laptop and sat down at the table, typing away feverishly.
It was around 5 o'clock when John arrived home. Sherlock didn't even look up from the computer and gave a grunt when John greeted him.
"How was your day? Did you manage fine?" John asked curiously. Ariadne was rolling around in her crib and squealed loudly when John came near. He picked her up and she nuzzled against him. Sherlock didn't reply and continued tapping away at the computer. John sighed and sat down on the sofa with Ariadne.
"How was your day?" Sherlock asked after a while. John was surprised but smiled a little.
"It was relatively boring. There wasn't much to do all day so I ended up working a little on my blog." John sighed. Sherlock was still typing away.
"Hmm? Lestrade couldn't have sent me a more boring case." He said absentmindedly. John stiffened.
"Case? What case?" He said, narrowing his eyes at the detective. Sherlock seemed to have realized his little mistake and looked at John.
"Well, it was rather urgent." He said. John shook his head.
"You never listen, do you?" He said firmly. John knew that there was no stopping Sherlock.
"She did something good at the crime scene though." Sherlock said amusedly. John raised an eyebrow.
"Something good? She's only 6 months old Sherlock."
"6 and a half." He muttered under his breath. "But that's not the point. She vomited on Anderson after he called her a terrible name." John blinked.
"She… She vomited on Anderson? What did he call her?" He asked, laughing lightly. Sherlock smirked.
"Demon spawn."