The flat was silent, save for the soft clinking of metal against ceramic plate. After his 'date' with Sarah, John returned to find Sherlock still sitting at his laptop, and Madeleine asleep on the couch. The shorter man proceeded to reheat a plate of chicken and vegetables left on the kitchen bench, probably by Mrs. Hudson, and set it beside Sherlock.
The nicotine-addict looked at it briefly before standing up, picking a photo off the table and going to stick it to the mirror above the fireplace. John was left to eat the chicken.
"Who's that?" he asked after a minute, forking a piece of the meat into his mouth.
"Lucy Brookes, form four at Saint Mary's Girls College for intelligent young ladies." The last half was said with a sarcastic tone and a momentary glance at the girl on the couch.
"Is she the one that was murdered?"
"Yes. Strangled and left by a lake without any clothes."
"She was left naked?" John seemed a little sickened. This young girl was strangled and left to die. He'd seen many things in the army, but the things he saw back in London with Sherlock were usually worse. On top of all that the detective did not even seem bothered that the girl went to the same school as his daughter, and was probably the same age.
"I wouldn't be surprised if it had been planned for months in advance."
"How can you know that? Seems like a blind rape to me."
Sherlock's hand outstretched to another picture John had not noticed. The girl's body. He tapped it twice with his index finger before folding his arms back across his chest. It did not explain anything, but the blond man kept quiet.
"Is she the same age as Maddy?"
"Madeleine." corrected Sherlock. He turned to face John, eyeing him.
"Sorry, how old is Madeleine?"
"She's seventeen on September the twenty eighth. Born Madeleine Aurelia Holmes at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital in 1994. Do you perhaps want her birth records as well?"
"Oh. I thought she might have been born in a great big mansion in the countryside. Whose decision was it to have her in a hospital, her mother's?"
Sherlock did not reply, merely spinning around to face the mirror again.
"What if Madeleine knew this Lucy Brookes? Couldn't you ask her about it?"
"I don't have friends, what makes you think she does?"
"Well she seems a little less cold, that's all." John muttered, shrugging and picking up the plate. He wandered over to stand beside Sherlock, looking at the mirror.
"Found anything?"
"I want to look at her body," was all John got as a reply.
"Right now?"
"Yes! Right now!" Sherlock strode over the door and pulled his coat from the hook, shrugging it on and tying his scarf around his neck.
"But I haven't finished the chicken!" John protested, setting the plate down anyway and picking his jacket off the back of a chair. The taller man was halfway out the door when a voice stopped him.
"May I come?" Madeleine asked. Sherlock spun around in his heel in one fluid motion, nodded, and then averted his attention back to the stairs. John smiled apologetically at the girl – though she did not appear to see it – before heading out the door himself, Madeleine following.
xsherlockx
St. Bart's was relatively quiet at night, at least, as quiet as a hospital could be at least.
Molly Hooper had almost finished her shift, but upon receiving a text saying;
'Need St Mary's girl. Surprise for you. SH.'
She forgot about the leftovers waiting for her in her fridge at home and set about retrieving the 'St Mary's girl' from the morgue. The body was zipped up nicely in a black bag and was all ready waiting for Sherlock and John on the table. A minute after she'd rolled the table in, the two men made their appearance.
The look of definite shock on her face was priceless to Sherlock, and he smiled briefly to himself before pushing Madeleine forward toward the young woman.
"This is Madeleine. Keep her occupied, please." he smiled with an insincere look of hopelessness, and then moved toward the table occupied by the body. Molly was left to stare at the female form of the man she was half in love with.
"Niece?" she asked bravely. Madeleine turned her head from Sherlock to look at her.
"Daughter." she informed Molly. The brunette spun around to stare at the big blue toe of a dead man, while her world came crashing down around her.
"So this is Lucy Brookes?" John asked, unzipping the top end of the bag. Molly went to the desk to fetch papers, still in a mild state of shock.
"Keep the zip at her neck, there are children about." Sherlock said loudly, snapping on some rubber gloves he had found. Madeleine rolled her eyes, but kept silent and stayed where she was, next to the stark naked man with the blue toes.
"Um, Sherlock? Her file says her name is Rebecca Thompson." Molly spoke up. The consulting detective frowned and went around to take the papers from Molly for himself. He flicked through the file and handed them back to Molly without a word.
"Rebecca Thompson, form four at St Mary's College. She was missing for a week before they found her." John read out from the file over Molly's shoulder.
"Where is Lucy Brookes?" Sherlock asked, beating his palms against the metal table.
"She's the only girl from St Mary's that I have here." Molly bit down on her lip. John looked up from the papers, to see Sherlock fully unzipping the body from its bag.
Acne scars.
Dandruff.
Dried mud under nails.
Mascara.
Bruising around the neck.
Scratches – shins and forearms.
"She's not very pretty." Sherlock observed, wrinkling his nose a little and stepping back.
"I don't think she cares." John replied even though Sherlock did not require one.
"The scratches were made when she was clothed, they're around the feet, lower shin and the forearms. Dried mud indicates that wherever she was, was dirty and wet –"
"-Where isn't anything wet in England?-"
"The bruising around the neck shows finger marks," the man had started walking around the room now, passing John and Molly and moving around the tables, "though the bruising doesn't reach around the back of the neck. So either the murderer had very small hands or it was self inflicted."
"-Daddy-"
"So this may not have been a murder at all. Perhaps she was forced into killing-"
"-Daddy!-"
"-herself. But then where is Lucy Brookes? We were sent Rebecca Thompson's photo with Lucy Brookes' name attached to it but why?"
"Daddy!"
"What?" Sherlock wheeled around to glare at Madeleine, who was standing next to Rebecca's body.
"You missed something." She lifted one of her long fingers and pointed to the girl's right arm. The man stalked over to the body and peeled back the upper arm from the upper side of the ribs.
A pentagram was cut into the flesh on the side of the body, well hidden by the arm. The wound appeared to still be bleeding, and had stained the limb red.
"Heparin would stop clotting and keep the cuts open." Madeleine said as though reading out of a book, she clasped her hands behind her back and looked lazily at her father.
"It doesn't explain why this is Rebecca Thompson and not Lucy Brookes." Sherlock dropped the arm, ripped off his gloves and folded his arms.
"They're best friends, attached at the hip. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody mixed them up." Madeleine said, staring down at Rebecca.
"But where is Lucy?" Sherlock was agitated, annoyed, about to hit something with his whip most probably.
"At school, silly." replied his daughter, sticking her tongue between her teeth as she smiled.
"What?" John piped up.
Hope you liked the second chapter.
I have got myself a beta-reader, so I am putting chapters through her before I upload them. SHE IS AWESOME! And I love her.
The first chapter was re-edited and posted back up by the way, so there may be some slight adjustments you may want to readover.
Please Review, because I would like to know what you think.