I thought he would have given up on this school by now, yet he hadn't. Dad was convinced this was what was best for me, and that it was going to help me handle my emotions.
And that, my friend, is how I ended up staring down at the corpse of the CEO of one of London's most successful businesses. I didn't know the name—it didn't matter to me, though everyone seemed a little stressed about it. Maybe it mattered, but they didn't make my iPhone, so I didn't care.
"It's a suicide," Lestrade frowned. "I don't know why you bothered to show up for this, Sherlock."
"It's a test for Jade," Dad explained tiredly, as if he were speaking to an idiotic and troublesome child. "She's going to watch me solve the case, and then, she's going to decide if it was indeed a suicide."
"What else could it be?" Lestrade asked, his voice filled with exasperation. "Come on, we're not as stupid as you think we are, Sherlock!"
Yet Dad ignored him. He knelt next the corpse, with red blood flowing onto the pavement. The wounds were fresh and gruesome to look at, but I forced myself to keep on staring.
I'd be a pathetic excuse for Dad's daughter if I couldn't bare the sight of a corpse.
The face was almost unrecognizable, completely battered in from the hardness of the concrete. His suit was stained red, from some of the blood pooling around him. The rest of him remained immaculate, though there were a few trace tears on the sleeves of his coat.
Dad stood up from his crouch and motioned for me to follow him, heading inside of the building. He marched up to the elevator without a word, pushing the button for the top floor—the floor I couldn't even begin to imagine falling from.
"It looks like a suicide," I muttered. "Do you really have to go in here to prove it?"
"I'm not supposed to give you help during a test," Dad chuckled. "Isn't that how schooling works?"
The elevator lurched, before gliding upward, carrying us along. Thankfully, no one else stopped it—they probably had to leave the building for the investigation. I dimly remembered a bunch of people standing in a tight, roped in area, like a pack of animals.
The doors opened smoothly and Dad walked out quickly, and I had to almost run to keep up. It was awful being short.
He propped open the window, letting the breeze fall. From his pocket, he pulled out a coin and flipped it, without saying a word. I frowned, my eyebrows creasing.
"What the hell are you doing?" I questioned.
"You're really not that great at this whole testing thing, are you?" he snickered, closing the window and then stalking back towards the elevator. The doors almost sealed without me, and I dashed in, crashing into him slightly.
For his credit, he only looked moderately irritated.
He pressed the button for the floor below us, the elevator taking us there swiftly. For a moment, I imagined being trapped in the elevator for Dad, with no sign of rescue. I pondered on whether or not he would eat me to survive—or would I eat him?
The opening of the doors caused that thought to vanish, and I followed Dad like a shadow over to the window. He opened it just as he had done on the previous floor, and he flipped the same coin.
"So what, the coin is heads?" I frowned. "What's the coin got to do with anything? I mean, it's not like you can use divination to tell what happened…This isn't Harry Potter."
He shook his head, muttering something about pop culture corrupting my mind, and went on his way. We continued to repeat the same routine, with him opening the window and flipping a coin, and I becoming more and more confused. By the time we reached the last floor, I was about ready to cry.
There was no way that I was going to pass this test. And then, once and for all, Dad would see me as the failure I am.
"There," Dad grinned smugly, walking back outside.
Lestrade's face was slack and tired looking, clearly in need of a nicotine patch. I snickered a bit, seeing the way he stared forward as if he couldn't care anymore, and all he wanted was to collect his pay and leave.
"What's with the resting bitch face?" I teased him.
"The what?" Lestrade frowned, looking at Dad for an explanation, who decidedly ignored him.
"Never mind," I muttered, my cheeks turning a bit red.
Dad shrugged, pocketing the coin, and turned his attention to me. He always did love to be dramatic, and he certainly looked the part. His hair was ruffled slightly by the wind as he stared forward, almost completely expressionless.
"Very well then, Jade," Dad began. "Tell us all—how can you tell if this was a murder or a suicide?"
I'd already gone through the panicking stages. I will admit, I did cry a little bit—Lestrade looked mildly concerned, but no one else seemed to notice. I thought I saw Donovan try to call CPS, but I wasn't too sure—it didn't matter, anyways.
Uncle wouldn't let anyone take me away.
And so, it was just me, a corpse, and an unbelievable amount of pressure. I wasn't able to fathom things like Dad did—I didn't understand why he flipped a coin on each floor.
"It doesn't make any sense!" I groaned, sniffling slightly as I prepared myself for another bout of crying.
Dad didn't blink an eye. "It's a test. Give an answer. Was it suicide, or was it murder?"
"Murder!" I exclaimed. "Otherwise you wouldn't be bothering me with this!"
Dad chuckled, a funny twinkle in his eyes. "Now you need to prove it was murder. How would you know it was murder if you were investigating here, all by yourself?"
"I wouldn't know!" I shouted back at him.
"Throwing a fit is going to get you nowhere," Dad sighed. "Think it through logically. You're capable of it."
I groaned, feeling fresh tears come to my eye. No one was going to give me sympathy—all I could do was solve the damn puzzle already. Feeling frustrated, I again fixated on the coin toss—there was nothing scientific about it! There was no reason to flip a coin!
Wait…
Perhaps that was just it, then?
Dad never said everything he would do would be correct. Perhaps it was just an odd thing he did to throw me off track—a red herring. I stopped my sniffling, remembering the only other thing Dad did on each floor.
He opened a window.
There was a contradiction in there somewhere, and I knew it. I took a few deep breaths.
"You tossed the coin for no reason at all," I said.
Dad nodded. "Evidently."
I sighed, trying to think it all through again. In order to kill oneself, they would have had to open the window, and jump out. That means, the window would have been left open.
So someone else had to have closed the window—and had they closed the window, they would have noticed the dead body, or something.
"It was murder because someone closed the window," I said slowly. I remembered the corpse—slight tears on the jacket. "And…The CEO was pushed—he tried to fight back, and ended up ripping his jacket in the process."
Dad gave me a rare smile—not a smirk, but a genuine smile. "You've passed your first test. You see, Lestrade, Jade is right. It was indeed murder that killed the victim. He was pushed out the open window. I'm sure you'll find one of the underlings to be guilty."
Lestrade nodded, looking awake for once. "Yeah, yeah. Of course. We'll just go look at the tapes and all, try to get a time schedule…"
"Good," Dad smirked. "I'm sure even the thickest of you lot would manage to figure it out from here. We'll be taking our leave."
"Bye, Freak!" Donovan cheered, dramatically bowing to Dad.
"Why can't we get Uncle to arrest her?" I whispered to Dad, practically having to jump to get close to his ear.
He chuckled and winked, before hailing a cab. I laughed a bit, before frowning.
He wouldn't actually get Uncle to arrest her, right?
When we arrived at the flat, the knocker on the door was straight. It wasn't crooked, and instantly, we both gulped.
Uncle was here.
I, being a completely brave and intelligent young woman, decided that Dad would have to go in first. He begrudgingly agreed to it, pushing the door open and ensuring the knocker stayed crooked. He pounded up the stairs, and I could hear Mycroft greet him.
Instead of running up, I remained downstairs, hoping to eavesdrop.
"I'm here to go through her room, of course," Mycroft explained. The odds that he didn't know I was listening were very slim, but it didn't matter to me either way. Perhaps he just didn't care enough to keep the purpose of his visit secret.
"Whatever for?" Dad posed, and I could hear him picking up his violin, starting to play. No doubt he was trying to drown out the conversation, so I couldn't hear.
It only made me want to hear it more.
I crept up a few stairs, careful to skip the one that creaked, and I flattened myself as best as I could so Uncle and Dad couldn't hear me. Fortunately, I heard Mycroft mutter something, and he continued on.
"Anything she can use to harm herself with," he explained. "We never know what night will be a danger night—you were rather the same, brother dear."
"I'm keeping an eye on her," Dad protested, starting to play a soothing melody.
"As am I, Sherlock," Mycroft cautioned. "It is best to be prepared for anything, isn't it? We need to eliminate the possibility that Jade may have an…episode again."
I gulped. I closed my eyes, and I could see the crime scene from earlier. Only this time, it wasn't a CEO lying on the ground. It was I. My face was the one that was bashed in beyond all recognition. My eyes gazed upwards mindlessly, with red painting my face.
Dad stood there, looking at me with apathy. It began to rain and he left, my body abandoned on the pavement.
I opened my eyes, wiping back a few tears that had begun to form—I thought I would have ran out of tears by now, but it was not so.
"It would be best if you cooperated with me on this, brother mine," Uncle urged. "We both want what's best for her."
"You want to avoid another scandal, so close to elections," Dad pointed out, setting down his violin noisily. "You don't want the press reporting that your niece committed suicide, hmm? It's rehab, all over again."
My chest seemed to tighten, and I was frozen in place. Did Dad really realize how far gone I was? Why was he taking me to murder scenes, if he didn't want me to kill myself? I bit my lip, waiting for the other shoe to drop—waiting for them to propose to take me to a mental hospital.
But it didn't come—Uncle continued speaking, instead.
"I do not wish to see Jade harmed," Mycroft admitted. By the sound of his feet creaking against the floor, he'd gone upstairs, heading towards my room.
I let out a sigh of relief, only to find Dad heading into the tiny hall, staring down at me from where I had hidden on the stairs.
"You can come out, now," Dad said softly. "I wouldn't take my stock in what Mycroft says on any day."
"He's going to send me away, isn't he?" I asked, standing up slowly. I would have liked to be more impressive standing, but if anything, I only made Dad look taller.
I was about as tall as Uncle John.
"Of course not," Dad murmured, putting an arm around me awkwardly.
"What are you doing?" I frowned, tensing up slightly with the contact.
"I think it's called hugging—I believe it is what most parents do when their child is upset," Dad explained, his face twisted with confusion. "Do you not like it?"
"It's just…weird," I admitted. "You aren't like most parents—you run around solving cases and you get high when you see a corpse."
He seemed genuinely surprised at that. "Don't most people?"
I rolled my eyes at him, shoving past him and up the stairs. Mycroft had already vacated my room, and in a hazardous waste bag, he had everything that could have been used as a weapon. I blinked, looking at the size of it—some of my scissors were even starting to poke out of it.
"Jade," he smiled. "What a pleasant surprise."
"…I live here," I stated awkwardly.
"Why yes, of course you do," Mycroft agreed. "I've just been doing a bit of housekeeping—I know you and your father are horrible at keeping this place clean."
For once, I wished Mrs. Hudson would walk in, going on with one of her rants about how she wasn't our housekeeper. It was a little irritating, especially since she voluntarily would do everything a housekeeper would. She was more family to me than Uncle was.
"Thanks," I said, slightly questioningly. "We sit down and have a company meeting once a month about how we can improve—this was one of our targets."
Mycroft blinked at me.
"Would you like to join a focus group?" I grinned. "You can get a Loyalty Card!"
Dad walked in behind me, grinning and snickering. "It really is a good deal, Mycroft. We don't just pass out Loyalty Cards to anyone."
"Only fat business men," I added.
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "I see you two are as mature as always. Honestly, sometimes I worry about you, Sherlock, with your attempts at parenting."
He picked up his umbrella, patted me on the head, and left the flat. I wrinkled my nose at the contact, mostly for Dad's amusement. He grinned slightly, before vanishing into the kitchen, no doubt to work on some sort of experiment.
The bloody corpse flashed before my eyes again, once more slowly turning into my own face. Only now, Mycroft stared down at it in disapproval.
"Caring isn't an advantage, Jade," He muttered with distaste. Dad nodded in agreement with him, as they both stared down at my mangled corpse, wondering why I couldn't have ripped my own heart out in the first place.
For most people, to err is human; for them, to be human is to err.
