(A/N): hey, a short author's note from me here! I am so sorry if updating is taking a long time. I have so many ideas for this story and it's all unfolding in my head. Writing just takes a lot of time and that is something I don't often have. I'll try my best for a monthly update, but that is with the emphasis on try. In the meantime, Inhope you enjoy what I have written so far.

Xx

SweetLovewriter

Chapter 9: A Study

The next day Alice was sitting in 221B Baker Street for the final time. Tonight John Watson would come to Baker Street with her father, who was now out walking around the city to clear his head a little. Alice had asked if she should join him, but he had refused it. Now she was just sitting there, reading a book on anatomy. She was starting to build up an interest for the medical profession since her father had taken her to the morgue, and by now she had read multiple books on the subject. Maybe she would apply to a university, though she didn't have any diploma's. She would try, and succeed. She wouldn't stop until she had achieved her goal.

After a while she put the book down, she couldn't handle the silence in the room. She rose from her red ragged chair, which would probably as from tonight no longer be her chair, but John Watson's. She didn't like the thought of it, but if it would please her father, how could she go against him? In the mean time, she had picked up her father's violin and started playing. Her feelings of bittersweet happiness were translated in the sound conveyed from the violin.

She played on and on, never stopping, never looking around, just looking out the window and often closing her eyes to fill her ears and head with nothing but music. The music changed to a calming sound, reflecting the calmness in her mind. After what seemed to be only a minute, which was actually half an hour, Alice stopped the bow, slowly opened her eyes and looked at her reflection in the window. Then she saw another reflection in the window, Sherlock's.

He was watching her from the treshold. His scarf around his neck. His coat still closed. His pair of leather gloves in his hand. Alice didn't turn around to face her father, first she put the violin down, softly placed the bow next to it and then stood up straight again, looking out of the window. But she wasn't looking out, she was looking at her father's reflection, which wasn't moving. They just stood there, looking at each other through the reflection of the window. Alice was the first to open her mouth.

'Another suicide?'

Sherlock snapped out of his thought process and shook his head once.

'No, not after the last one two days ago, I'm waiting for Lestrade to find me.'

Alice grinned.

'You texted all the press members during the press conference Lestrade was holding yesterday didn't you?'

Sherlock just smirked, took off his scarf and coat and threw them on the couch. He stopped in the middle of the room, Alice was still looking out of the window.

'Ali...'

Alice stopped him by starting a conversation of her own.

'You should consider cleaning up just a little bit, this room will only scare Dr. Watson off.'

Sherlock looked around at the appartment, with the papers and books scattered all across the room and the laboratory table in the kitchen. It was filled to the edges with all kinds of stuff on it and many experiments had been set up, by now either half finished or on the brink of being solved. He looked back at Alice, who was picking some books up and putting them back on their shelves, so there were at least some books in there.

'Just leave it Alice, I do not want to think about this right now.'

Alice put a few more books in their place, waited a while, remembers what she had been thinking of when her father was out and turned around to face him.

'Sherlock, would you mind if I set up an experiment of my own in your lab?'

Sherlock looked at her, not quite sure what to think. Up until now, he had never heard his daughter about scientific experiments and he thought by now that that was one thing in which they differed, but he seemed to be wrong. Then he slowly walked towards her.

'What would you like to do?

Alice looked at him.

'Well, I was curious about the relation between eyecolour and heat actually. So if I could just have a couple of eyes that I could first put in the microwave then outside on the counter, in the fridge and lastly in the freezer and everytime note down a change in the colour of the iris. Simple as that.'

Sherlock smiled.

'Quite the basic experiment.'

Alice's face fell, but she kept a part of her confidence to use it for arrogance.

'So it's too easy for you?'

Sherlock was suddenly grinning.

'Oh no, don't think that Alice. I never tried it before, so it should be interesting.'

He turned around and quickly paced the short way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out a jar with a couple of eyeballs in there.

'Would these do?'

Alice walked up to Sherlock who was standing in the doorway between the living and the kitchen. She looked at the eyeballs, which all had different colours. She grabbed the jar from Sherlock's hand and turned back to the living room. She sat down on her chair, grabbed an empty piece of paper from the floor and a pencil which was lying on the mantlepiece. She looked at all the eyeballs and screwed the top off the jar. Suddenly Sherlock was standing next to her.

'Might need these.'

She looked up just a little and took out a couple of latex gloves. Then she looked up at Sherlock again, who just stared at her, interested, but more or less blank. He was secretly happy with Alice, but also worried, she was more and more quiet. She baked pies and made sandwiches throughout the day at Speedy's, with music playing on her headphones, so that she didn't have to talk to anyone.

In the evening she would come up to him and they would spend their evenings together. Sometimes he was busy with an experiment and she would read, or play the violin constantly, or she would help him with some things, but she had never really interested herself in anything scientific, until now. She was sometimes distant, even towards him, and he was aware that he didn't even mind. After tonight she might even become more quiet, because he would have his new flatmate dr. John Watson.

Dr. Watson interested him, and he seemed to be interested in Sherlock as well. Still, if the serial suicides would take a turn and Lestrade would finally come to him, he would take Alice with him, to help him with a case. She wanted to do that so badly, and he liked her around as well. Maybe it was just something that would ease the pain of not being able to see each other that much again, this was the one thing he could share.

By now, Alice had finished taking out all the eyeballs one by one, numbering them and noting down their exact colour according to a colourmap she had found somewhere in his stuff, which wasn't a would often find things he didn't know he owned. She put all the eyeballs back in the jar and rose up, immediately faced with Sherlock, who had put back the gloves on the laboratory table and who had made a quick note about one of his other experiments, before going back to his initial position, the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.

'Done?'

Alice nodded, then she passes Sherlock and puts the jar with eyeballs on the counter next to the microwave.

'They're too cold now, I'll place them in the microwave when they are room temperature.'

Sherlock nodded.

'Good, now we are going out.'

Alice's head turned around quickly, looking at her father. Was he actually being serious? He had just been out, why go out again? But Sherlock was clearly quite serious, though he did remain in the doorway for a while.

'Where are we going?'

Alice walked towards Sherlock and stopped next to him, both were facing the opposite direction, but they were looking at each other.

'Out.'

At that, Sherlock turned around and walked towards the couch, grabbed his coat and scarf and put them on while he walked out. Alice followed him, grabbing her own coat from the hanger in the hall. They walked out of Baker street and started walking in a general direction, one time Alice lead the way, another time Sherlock took over. They stayed silent for a long time, but Alice could see her father observing everyone they encountered. She did the same.

It was like it had been when they had just met, the only difference being that they now did it while walking through the streets of London, instead of standing in the park. Some people looked at them, and Alice had no idea why. When she caught her reflection in one of the windows of a shop, she stopped and had to look again to make sure that her eyes were not deceiving her. Sherlock noticed that she had stopped and did the same. He turned to her and saw her staring. He walked up to her and took his place right next to her.

'Just add a different coat, and some length.'

Alice looked up at her father, who was standing in the exact same position as she was. Over the past 6 months, she had never realized how much she had actually changed. Where she had had lighter streaks in her dark hair earlier, they had now mostly faded, leaving her with her chocolate brown, nearly black hair, which had become more curly without the straightener she had used at home. Her face was not as straight as her father's, but her cheekbones stood out more prominently and she had grown and inch. Her father had been right, if it wasn't for the difference in coat, her lack of a navy blue scarf and some inches in height, she could be a perfect copy of him by now. Sherlock saw the realization unfold in the reflection of the window and curled up the corners of his mouth.

'Time passes, nobody ever realizes what it can do to you until you stop and look at it.'

Alice looked up, staring straight into Sherlock's eyes. She smiled back at him. Then she looked at another reflection in the window. A cab had just pulled over in front of a well-dressed man, who got in. The thought of the serial suicides popped into her head again. The victims had all been found at abandoned places where they had no business whatsoever.

Whoever had led them to these places had to have been a person who could move around the city unnoticed and who would be able to come and go without drawing attention to him- or herself. Could it be? She would have to look into the other victims again. Think about it a little more, but maybe she had already cracked it. She smirked slyly, but it was more on the inside than the outside. Her father was smart, but if she was right, it would mean that she might be just a little bit smarter.

Suddenly, Sherlock turned around, looked at the clock that was on the corner of the street, and hailed a cab, before turning back to Alice.

'7 o clock at Baker Street.'

Alice looked at the clock, ten to seven.

'Dr John Watson.'

Sherlock nodded and opened the cab door for Alice, who immediately got in. Sherlock followed her and leaned towards the cabbie.

'221B Baker Street please.'

Ten minutes later, 7 o'clock sharp, the cabbie pulled over at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock and Alice both looked out and Alice saw a man coming from the same side as they had come, approaching the door to 221B. Walking cane in hand and now leaning in to ring the doorbell.

'I need to go out alone.'

Alice pulled her look away from John Watson and looked at Sherlock, who was already holding the doorhandle, she nodded.

'I'll pay.'

Sherlock nodded as well and then got out with a swing, turning back quickly to the cabbie whispering:

'Follow her.'

Then he was off to greet John Watson, shaking the doctor's hand while making a good attempt at smiling.

'Miss, are you getting out or not?'

Alice looked at the cabbie, who was looking at her through his mirror.

'Could you please drive around the block and park here again? And turn on your availability light.'

The cabbie shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, pressed the button for the light and pulled up again. While he drove away from 221B Baker Street, Alice thought about the man she had just seen.

John Watson. Army doctor. Psychosemantic limb, his actual wound in his left shoulder. But the brother, there was no brother. Maybe it was a different way of looking at him, but the first thing that came to Alice's mind was sister.

When the cabbie pulled over at 221B again, Alice thanked him silently and payed him with a generous tip for following her direction. It had sounded weird to his placid ears and she knew that all to well. She opened the door to 221B Baker Street and closed it behind her. Mrs. Hudson was upstairs with Sherlock and John, obviously. She opened Mrs. Hudson's door, for which she also owned a key by now, she owned the keys for the entire building, except those to 221C, the mouldy room next to Mrs. Hudson's flat. She had just closed the door behind her when she heard another car pull up and someone throwing the door open which was possible since Alice had forgotten to lock it, and going up the stairs.

She stopped in her tracks and looked up, something was happening, but she couldn't know for sure what. She realised it only when she turned around and saw the blue police lights coming through the windows in the door and in through the open front door. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs again and someone closing the door with a bang. Silence, but not for long.

'Brilliant! Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note, oh it's Christmas!'

Silence again, but not for long.

'Something cold will do! John, have yourself a cup of tea, make yourself at home. See you later!'

A door slamming and quick footsteps on the stairs again. Alice had listened to it all and now swiftly opened the door in one movement. She hadn't been standing that far away from it to begin with. Sherlock noticed the door opening and walked towards the first door leading to the front door.

'Coming? It's a serial, like we said. Laureston gardens.'

'No.'

Sherlock stopped in his tracks and turned around, seeing Alice leaning against the doorpost, her arms folded.

'No?'

Alice shook her head.

'No matter how much I'd love to finally go to a crime scene with you...'

Before she could continue however, they heard a yell coming from upstairs, which had clearly come from John Watson's throat.

'Damn my leg!'

Alice looked up and smirked, then she looked back at Sherlock.

'You see, he doesn't want to be left behind. You said he was up for it and he is the one you chose, so...'

Sherlock wanted to protest, but Alice's look silenced him. How she did it was a mystery to even Sherlock Holmes, but one way or another, his daughter would always get her way. Even with him. He nodded, turned to the stairs and went up again, taking two steps at the time, still holding his gloves in his hand. Alice smiled, she would have loved to go to a crime scene with her father. It was all she wanted if she was really honest with herself.

But this was not supposed to be the first crime scene of the two Holmes's. This was supposed to be the first crime scene of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.