Chapter Nine:
What Transpired
What transpired after Mycroft leaving France was as follows.
Upon arriving in England, he completed his education for high school in a years' time at a public school that was free, aside from books. With his diploma in hand, he applied for scholarships which he found easily earned due to his potential. With those scholarships, he enrolled at Cambridge where he was immediately accepted. There he met and made contacts with some very powerful individuals. At age twenty-one, he applied for a job in the British government as a part-time clerk. He got the job and from there, it became merely a matter of time before he reached the position he so desired.
Back in France, Sherlock had withdrawn from nearly everyone after her brother left. She still had the network seeking any information she could find on James and his comrades, but so far, there was nothing. It was as though the boy had vanished into thin air. At age fourteen, while her brother was accepted into Cambridge, Sherlock was introduced to drugs. At the beginning, she found them revolting and degrading. However, after a chance encounter with an unattended needle, she found her curiosity too alluring to pass thing she knew, once became twice and twice went on to become multiple times in the course of one day.
It was only after a near overdose, that her brother became aware of what was happening in France concerning his sister. A call to him from Paris from an emergency attendant had him on the first plane ride back he could find; worry, guilt, and anger coursing through his core.
After a somewhat cold reception and a refusal to see the obvious, he forcefully took his sister with him and placed her in a rehab facility. There she stayed for several months until they deemed her clean. While she certainly wouldn't thank him, she seemed almost resigned to his plans for her; in his eyes, resigned usually meant she was thankful, though she would never admit it. His sister was certainly a prideful creature, but then again, so was he.
They flew come France to England. She lived with him for a time, but drugs seemed to make a reappearance. Hoping to force her need for a thrill into something more productive, he decided on the off chance it might work, to introduce her to a friend from high school; truly the only friend from high school.
"Lestrade, this is my sister, Sherlock. Sherlock, Officer Gregory Lestrade of the London Police. "
Officer Greg Lestrade had been told beforehand why Mycroft was introducing his little sister to him. Looking at her now, however, what with her sharp cheekbones, icy blue eyes, porcelain white skin, and thin, nearly anorexic looking body… he wondered how she would handle the gruesome murders they had at the police department. Her beauty was nearly incomparable with those dark curls cascading down her shoulders, but the look he saw in her eyes… it was the only reason he hadn't protested more adamantly. He knew nothing of the Holmes life before having met Mycroft in high school, but he could see a hardness there, that a female or even a man, normally didn't carry.
"A pleasure," he replied, stretching out his hand to the girl.
She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen years old, but the maturity he saw there left him wondering if that was a correct estimation or not.
"And I," she replied, though her tone implied boredom.
"So, your brother said you might be interested in assisting me with some cases?"
Sherlock was silent, her eyes sweeping up and down the café they were currently sitting in. Taking her silence as an acknowledgement of his statement, he continued.
"Well, obviously you won't get paid for your help and I can't guarantee your name being spoken by many, but…"
"Boring," she sighed.
Mycroft glared at his sister. "Manners," he hissed in her ear.
Sending her elder brother a glare of her own, she reiterated her statement. "Boring because I don't want fame or money. Just give me a challenge."
Greg found himself momentarily at a loss for words. Was this girl serious? She was excited about the idea of murder? He felt a cold chill run down his spine at the look in her eyes. Oh yes, she was completely serious.
"There will certainly be that."
She smiled. "Good."
Greg walked out shivering and not for the last time.
Over the span of several years, Sherlock became a nearly accepted presence at any crime scene. Of course, there were the occasional few who voiced their complaints concerning her being there, but the success she had in solving cases, muted any noise they could make in the ears of the higher powers. What Greg had told her had been the truth, not many of the solved cases were accredited to her, but she never cared. As good as her word, she solved them, enjoyed the thrill, and always left before the reporters were called.
Of course, what happens so often can't presume to be kept secret forever. The newspapers eventually got wind of the teenage female detective who is consulted by the police. People grew interested and the rest, as they say, is history. Sherlock Holmes became a sensation overnight and with it, came multiple cases to solve in the privacy of her own room. As the cases for the police began to dwindle due to pressure from the higher powers to raise police-citizen dependability and investigative ability, so she turned to more wealthy clients who came wanting to stay away from the police registrar. Her cases were as good as any and she kept note of them, though she rarely if ever outside police jurisdiction. Of course she still used those talents she developed as a child to steal and search for the answers she sought so diligently, but she always allowed any and all killers, crooks, or kidnappers, a true judicial punishment. It was what kept her from becoming like James Moriarty, her childhood nemesis, and she intended to keep it that way.
Her search for him never faltered during her time in England and eventually, her search paid off. She began to receive letters concerning an underground criminal world in which he was one of the leading sovereigns. His name was on the lips of every low life and while nothing could be had concerning his illegal activities and current whereabouts, nevertheless, she followed him as a blood hound would a quarry.
She knew one day, their paths would cross again and when they did, she wouldn't allow him to slip by unhindered.
