I need your help now some guys at my house hes got a gun hes looking for you – Abby
[Ten Minute Delay] Call the police, I'm on my way. - EH
Etheldrea sat calmly, slowly breathing in and out. In her head she replayed the last hour and how it could have gone better. She should have listened to her father. It wasn't the first time she'd disobeyed him, but it was one of the first times she had completely disregarded an order. After ten minutes beside the front door, she left the house and walked down the street. Once she was away from the more popular roads, she ran until the Grey's apartment was in site.
To her surprise, the lights were on, and it looked like everything was fine. She even saw Abigail dancing past her window. She was confused, and looked at the message again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black car pull up. She rolled her eyes and started to walk towards the Grey's, only to be harshly pulled back and forced into the car. It was definitely not uncle Mycroft.
She struggled at first, but stopped to start calculating plan. There were two men in the car, three including the driver. One man kept his hands over her eyes as the other sounded like he was fumbling with something. Then, the hands were gone and replaced with a blindfold. When the car stopped, she heard doors open and was dragged out. It was a beach like area they were at. There was sand and gravel, and she could hear water swaying onto the sure. They forced her to walk, each holding her arms.
She dug her heels into the ground, and then dug the heel of her boots into their feet. They yelled and let her go, and then she turned and ran. She struggled with the blind fold for a moment, and just as it came off, she ran into a wall. Her captors laughed as they caught up and grabbed her. This time, they didn't hesitate to grab her legs, and they carried her off under a dock. There, they strapped a semtex bomb on her, threw a pager and her phone on her lap, and ran as fast as they could out of there.
It was pitch black out, and she was completely and utterly alone. So, she sat, calmly waiting for something to happen. The pager flashes, a backlight showing her a message.
Good evening Miss Holmes. Didn't I tell you all good things come in threes?
"So, you're the one who sent the package. What is it then? The third thing?"
Patience. We have to play with your father first. Pick up your phone and call Sherlock #2. When he answers, you are not to say a word until I say so.
She picked up the phone and browsed through until she found it. She hit the call button, and waited.
"Etheldrea? Why did you call this number?"
She didn't say a word.
"Ethel . . .?"
There was a slight pause as the puzzle clicked.
"The painting is a fake. It's a fake that's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed. . . . Oh, come on, proving it's just a detail. The painting is a fake, I've solved it, I've figured it out! It's a fake, that's the answer, that's why they were killed. . . . Ok, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?"
Count down from 10; don't make it slower than a second.
"Ten."
"What did she say?" John asked.
"Nine."
"Ten, it's a countdown, he's given me time. It's a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How?!"
"Eight."
"My daughter will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me!"
"Seven."
"No, shut up. Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out."
Faster.
"Six. . . Five."
"Woodbridge knew, but how?"
"She's speeding up!"
"Four."
"OH! In the Planetarium, you heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant, that is gorgeous!"
"Three."
"What's brilliant? What is?" Lestrade asked.
"Love this!"
"Two."
"SHERLOCK!"
"The Van Buren Supernova!"
He wins.
She breathed a sigh of relief, "You did it dad."
"Are you at Baker Street?" Sherlock asked, sounding breathless himself.
Your third clue: A.S
A.S? "No, I'm by Wandsworth Park, I think. Doesn't matter, helps already on its way."
In the distance, she could already see men in uniforms coming towards her.
"Go back to Baker Street, John and I will be there soon."
She hung up, and waited as the men got to work. A few minutes later, the bomb was off, her report was put in, and she was being escorted to a sleek black car. Anthea, as she had just stuck to calling her, was standing outside the open door. Etheldrea climbed in and then they were on their way.
"Miss Holmes, your Uncle would like to know how you are."
"I'm fine."
"Your hands are shaking."
Etheldrea looked down and to her surprise, found her hands really were shaking, badly. She clasped them together, and then looked out the window to watch London pass by.
"I'm perfectly fine."
Anthea let it drop, and the rest of the ride was silent. Inside Baker Street, Etheldrea changed into her pj's, grabbed a book, and sat on the sofa. Mrs. Hudson popped in once to check on her and a while later, Sherlock and John came home.
John was running up the stairs, taking two at a time, while Sherlock walked up, taking his time. When he saw her, John went right over and wrapped Etheldrea in a hug.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"I'm fine. I've been through worse."
Sherlock walked in, looked the room over and then narrowed his eyes, "There's no sign of a break in. You left the flat."
Her cheeks felt hot, and she looked down, "I did."
"After I told you not to."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I got a text that I thought was from Abigail. It said there was a guy with a gun in her house. I waited until you guys were gone, and I left. When I got there, a black car pulled up and took me."
"Etheldrea Wisteria Holmes, I gave you an order that I expected you to follow."
"And I disobeyed it to help my friend."
"You should have called the police."
"It said she needed me. Besides, it was a setup."
"Of course it was."
Etheldrea could see underlying frustration as he pinched the bridge of her nose. He sighed and walked over to her, kneeling down to look her in the eyes.
"You are never to do anything like this again. Not unless you have someone with you. Even call your Uncle if you have to. Understood?"
She gave a curt nod, "Understood."
Etheldrea trudged along the path behind John and the rail's worker. She and John were left alone to investigate the government case. She hadn't wanted to, but Sherlock was still vexed with her, and she didn't care to be near him at the moment. She'd give him time to cool off and then everything would be fine.
"So this is where West was found?"
"Yeah. Are you going to be long?"
"We might be."
"Are you the police then?"
"Sort of."
"I hate em'."
"Police?"
"No, jumpers. People who chuck 'emsleves in front of trains. Selfish bastards."
"Well, that's one way of looking at it."
"I mean it. It's alright for them. It's over in a split second, strawberry jam all over the lines. What about the drivers? They've got to live with it, haven't they?"
John had bent down and looked over the rails. It was dry, and very clean. From what she saw, there were only a few blood drops, not enough for someone who had jumped.
"Speaking of strawberry jam, there's no blood on the line. Has it been cleaned off?"
"No, there wasn't that much."
"You said his head was smashed in?"
"It was, but there wasn't much blood. I'll leave you to it then."
The worker left and John began to retrace West's last few hours.
"Right, so Andrew West got on the train somewhere. Or did he? There's no ticket on the body. How did he end up here?"
"It's obvious John." She muttered as the train's rails switched, "Think about it."
He bent down and examined them, slowly coming to a realization.
"The points." She said.
"Yes!"
"West wasn't killed here, that's why there was so little blood."
"How long have you known?"
"Since we met Joe Harrison. Come on, we need to meet dad at Harrison's apartment."
She turned and head back towards the main roads. John walked next to her.
"Meet him? He knows?"
"He's been following us since the start. You didn't really think he'd pass this up because of sibling spite, do you?"
After letting the worker know they were leaving, they grabbed a cab and rode to a block away from the flat. At the corner of the street, they met Sherlock and started walking.
"Missile defense plans haven't left the country, otherwise Mycroft's people would have heard about it." Sherlock said, "Despite what people think, we do still have a secret service."
"Yeah, I know, I met them." John said.
"Which means whoever stole the memory stick can't sell it or doesn't know what to do with it. My money's on the later. We're here."
They walked up a flight of stairs, and Etheldrea began to pick the lock.
"Sherlock, what if there's someone in?"
"There isn't."
The door opened and they all dashed inside. Sherlock immediately headed for the window while John looked confused.
"Who's Joe Harrison again?"
"Don't you remember? We met him yesterday. Lucy Harrison's brother; was to be Andrew West's brother in law." She told him.
"He stole the memory stick and killed him." Sherlock said as he looked over the window sill.
"Then why'd he do it?" John asked.
Just then, they heard the door rattling, and all looked towards it.
"Let's ask him."
Slowly walking towards the door, John pulled out his gun and held it to his side, only bringing it up when Harrison tried to attack them with his bike. He stood down, put the bike down, and raised his hands.
"Inside, sit down." Sherlock said.
Etheldrea guarded the living room's door while Sherlock and John stood on opposite ends of the room, all keenly watching Joe Harrison.
"Why did you kill Andrew West?" Sherlock asked.
"It was an accident, I swear it was."
"But stealing the plans for the missile defense program wasn't an accident, was it?"
"I started dealing drugs. I just got out of my depth. I owed people thousands. Serious people. Then at Westie's engagement do, he starts talking about his job. I mean usually, he's so careful. But that night, after a few pints, he really opened up. He told me about these missile plans, beyond top secret. He showed me the memory stick. You hear about these things getting lost, ended up on rubbish tips and whatnot. And there it was and I thought it could be worth a fortune. It was pretty easy getting the thing off him, he was so plastered. Next time I saw him, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew. We started to fight, and I pushed him. He fell right through the open door and down the stairs. I was going to call an ambulance, but it was too late. So I dragged him in here. I just sat in the dark, thinking."
"When a neat little idea popped into your head. The train carried Andrew West far away from here. His body would have gone on for ages if the train hadn't hot a stretch of track with curves."
"Do you still have it then?" John asked, "The memory stick?"
Harrison nodded, and stood to go retrieve it. As he did, they three huddled together.
"Distraction over, the game continues." Sherlock told them.
"Maybe that's over too. We've heard nothing from the bomber."
"Five pips remember. It's a countdown. We've only had four."
When the three were back in Baker Street, Etheldrea walked into the kitchen, not bothering to take her scarf and coat off. She rummaged through a few drawers before pulling out an envelope with an 'Ah ha!'
She walked into the living room, sat at the desk, and called Sherlock over. He ignored her at first, but she was persistent.
"Why can't we do this tomorrow?"
"Because I want to do it now. We need to change bullet point number two. In fact, I think we need to update the whole thing."
"I think we don't need to."
Etheldrea glowered at him, "Dad."
"Alright, alright."
"Bullet two should be written out."
"Ahem, no, it shouldn't. I reserve the right to exclude you from any and all cases."
"Not any more. I can handle the cases better now that I've had some experience. Let's change it to you have the right to request I step down from certain cases."
"Request?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, request. You can't stop me from actively joining cases. If John can, so can I."
"John is thirty years older than you."
"Thirty-three, actually."
Said thirty-nine tear old sat in his chair, hiding his laughter as they argued. Etheldrea was determined, and Sherlock was unrelenting. An hour later, the entire pact was being rewritten and now John was becoming part of it. When everything was agreed upon, they signed their names. Before she put it back in the envelope, Etheldrea looked it over and read it to herself.
We, Sherlock Holmes, Etheldrea Holmes, and John Watson, agree to every following point in regard to solving cases.
John Watson has authority to determine if anyone is unfit to be involved in cases, physically and slightly mentally. Persons may listen to client's state their case, but will always not be able participate until in full health.
Sherlock Holmes has authority to exclude Etheldrea Holmes from cases that would be considered a high danger to John Watson. She does have the chance to argue, and will always be denied will have the chance to change Sherlock Holmes' mind. Once Etheldrea Holmes has reached the age of eighteen, this portion is rendered worthlessremains valid rendered worthless remain- render- remain- rendered worthless, and that's final!
Etheldrea Holmes has authority to decide when it is appropriate for her to leave school for a case. Her father, Sherlock Holmes, cannot call her in or pull her from class just because he found a sample of a leaf or similar, especially while she is in the middle of a test. Mainly because she receives hell from her teachers the next day.
There's no need to write that in.
Dad, why are you writing? Wait, why am I
What are you
Any disagreement regarding this Pact must be reviewed within three days and settled within a day after. If no agreement is reached, argument must be brought to the attention of Mrs. Hudson.
Signed, Etheldrea W Holmes, Sherlock S Holmes, John H Watson
Much later, now nearly eleven at night, Sherlock sat in his chair, his knees to his chest, yelling at the television show. Etheldrea sat on the sofa once again, reading. John sat at the desk, typing on his laptop, and preparing to leave.
"No, no, no! Course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"
"Knew it was dangerous, getting you into crap telly. You're worse than your daughter."
"Not a patch on Connie Prince."
"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?"
"Not yet. Tomorrow Etheldrea and I are going to his place in Sussex, you're welcome to join."
"We'll see. You know, I'm still waiting."
"Hm?"
"For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up that fake painting a lot quicker."
"It didn't do you any good, did it?"
"No, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective."
Etheldrea rolled her eyes, "Girl's, you're both pretty. I'm trying to read."
John shook his head and stood up, "I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge. Oh, and milk, we need milk."
"I'll get some." Sherlock called.
"Really?"
"Really."
"And some beans, then?"
Sherlock nodded.
As soon as he heard the door close, Sherlock stood and walked into the kitchen. Etheldrea heard him moving about, and he emerged a while later with cups of tea. He placed one in front of her, and then set his on the table. He grabbed his laptop before sitting down on the other end of the sofa.
Etheldrea put the book down and took a sip. She set the cup back on the saucer and frowned, it seemed a bit off. It was almost two sweet. She took another sip, bigger, and it held the same taste.
"Dad, what kind of tea did you make?"
"Earl Grey."
"No, you didn't. This doesn't have the same taste."
He ignored her and typed something on his blog. She glared at him and looked down at his cup, which was half empty.
"May I try a sip of yours then? To see if there's a difference."
He gestured towards the cup, "Be my guest."
She leaned forwards and grabbed it. Surprisingly, his tea held the exact same taste. She set it back down, and relaxed back. She picked up her book again and started to read, but after a few minutes, the words started to run together. She set it down, blinked a bit, and shook her head. Sherlock stood up and walked to the kitchen, bringing and setting the cups in the sink. Then he waited by the door, watching Etheldrea carefully.
". . . Dad, what did you put in the tea?" she asked as her vision began to cross.
"Just some sleeping syrup. You didn't take as much as I was hoping, but enough to knock you out for a few hours at least."
"Dad! This goes against the pact!"
"I don't recall our pact saying anything about drugging your tea."
Etheldrea glared and slowly stood up. The syrup was already taking affect, and her movements were very dawdling. She walked towards her father and just as she passed the table, fell to her knees. Sherlock grabbed and tried to lift her back to the sofa, but she fought back though weakly. She tried shoving him away and kicking and wiggling, but he only gained a tighter grip and she only lost energy. Finally, she stopped, and he adjusted so that she leaned against his chest.
"Promise me you'll come back." She whispered.
"I can't."
She felt herself being lifted, and then placed on the sofa once more. A moment passed and then a pillow was placed under her head. She felt a hand brush her hair back and his lips press against her temple.
"Goodnight, my Wanderer."