CHAPTER 6: A CARED-FOR CORPSE
John came back the next day, curious as to what Sherlock was doing regarding the missing persons case.
His answer was not long in coming. When he knocked at the door, it was opened not by Sherlock but by Violet, wearing jeans and a purple T-shirt, dark curls combed and playing leapfrog around her head and shoulders.
"Hi!" she said cheerfully, stepping back to let him in. "Daddy's in his Mind Palace right now, but once he wakes up I'll go get him."
John blinked at this pronouncement, then thanked the girl. Sure enough, Sherlock's door was shut. The door to John's old bedroom was open, however, and John could see evidence that it had been slept in.
So Violet really was staying here.
"Would you like tea, Mr. Watson?"the little girl asked. "Mrs. Hudson brought some up earlier, but Daddy hasn't eaten yet."
Sure enough, on the table was a tray with a teacup and an empty glass that must have once contained milk, along with two plates: one empty and speckled with crumbs and strawberry jam, the other containing two pieces of toast.
John declined, then sat down, watching Violet humming to herself as she went to the big red backpack Sabrina had brought, extracting what looked like a child's science textbook and opening it.
"Violet." said John gently, deciding to try and unravel this mystery. "Where's your mother?"
Violet pointed up. "Mummy's in heaven."
She didn't sound disturbed or sad, more like she was stating a simple, obvious fact of life.
"She died when I was really little." Violet explained. "I don't remember much, and Daddy and Aunt Sabrina don't like talking about her."
Sherlock's door opened and Violet looked up.
"Morning, Daddy." she said cheerfully. "Mrs. Hudson brought tea up and Mr. Watson is here."
Sherlock nodded to the both of them and collapsed in his chair, muttering something under his breath.
Violet picked up her book and moved to sit in the chair by the window.
"You've come to ask about Violet, John. Or her mother, at least." Sherlock said, deadpan. "Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore then I already have. I met her in New York seven years ago, and she died shortly after Violet was born." He leaned back in his chair. "I really think that's all you need to know."
"Sherlock, I've known you for three years now. I've never heard you mention Violet. Or her mother."
Sherlock shrugged. "It never came up."
John had opened his mouth to argue why Sherlock should have told him this rather important fact when Violet interjected.
"Daddy, a police car is driving on the road."
She stared out of the window for a few more seconds before proclaiming "It's stopped and the man from yesterday is getting out."
"Another development." Sherlock muttered. "Shall we shelve this debate for another time, then, John?"
There had been another development, all right. Patty Ellis had turned up dead. Before John could blink, he and Sherlock were in a cab heading for the scene. Violet sat beside her father, looking out of the window.
Sherlock had won the argument about taking his five-year-old to a crime scene. "She's a good girl." he had said, pulling on his coat. Violet was already in her green zip-up jacket and shoes and was waiting eagerly by the door. "She won't touch anything if I tell her not to. Besides, Mrs. Hudson is going out for a few hours, so there's no one to watch her." Still seeing the look on John's face, Sherlock had rolled his eyes. "It'll be fine."
Surprisingly, it was. Violet sat quietly beside her father, looking out of the window. Twice, she turned around to ask her father a question.
"Where are we going, Daddy?"
" A crime scene."
"What happened?"
"A body has turned up."
Violet was quiet until the crime scene tape came into view.
"Can I see, Daddy?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No you can't. Stand with John and wait."
"Okay."
Donovan's P.O.V
When the black cab pulled up, Donovan groaned inwardly. She hated dealing with the freak and his friend. She marched over to the tape, crossed her arms and waited as the freak got out, surveying the scene. Watson got out the other side. The freak swept the scene for a moment before he marched over to her. She crossed her arms.
"Sergeant Donovan." For some reason the freak seemed lighter today. There was even a tiny smile on his face. Who smiled at a crime scene?
"Hey, freak." she greeted him, reaching for her shoulder to contact Lestrade.
"That's not nice!"
Donovan jumped and looked down.
Standing at the freaks side was a little girl about five, wearing a green zip-up jacket and black sneakers. Dark shoulder-length curls bounced in the soft breeze, framing an angry face and indignant blue eyes.
Why the f #! had the freak brought a child to a crime scene?! She demanded this at once.
"Language, Donovan, children are present." the freak said dryly. "I'm heading in. She's staying out here."
The little girl was still clearly angry.
"You say sorry." she demanded. "Calling people freak is not nice."
Donovan mumbled a very insincere apology and lifted the tape. The freak ducked under and headed off. The child stayed behind, watching the goings-on with great interest.
Donovan was about to ask her where her parents were when she spotted Anderson coming up the hill. Her vision tunneled.
"Sergeant Donovan." he greeted, winking discreetly at her.
"Hello, Anderson." she responded, smiling and casually smoothing her hair.
His gaze stayed on her for a second before flicking to the little girl. "Who's this?"
Donovan shrugged. "I don't know, the freak brought her."
The child, who had been watching them both with a kind of detached interest, shot her a glare.
"Hi there." said Anderson, his voice taking on the high-pitched tone some people use when addressing small children. "Can you tell us your name? I'm Officer Anderson."
The child quirked an eyebrow but responded with "I'm Violet."
"That's a very nice name." Anderson told her, smiling.
The child said nothing, watching the two of them and absentmindedly blowing a curl out of her face.
"How old are you, Violet?"
"Five." The little girl responded, looking bored. She was on her tiptoes looking down the hill, watching the freak gesture as he spoke to Lestrade, straining to see around Anderson.
"Wow! Such a big girl!" Anderson exclaimed.
Violet raised her eyebrows at his overenthusiastic tone but said nothing.
"Where is your mummy, Violet, do you know?"
"Mummy's dead." Violet replied matter-of-factly. Then she noticed something on Anderson's hand and frowned at the two of them.
"Isn't it not nice to date someone when you're married?" she asked.
Donovan felt like she had been punched. Anderson looked like he felt the same.
"Wh-what?" he stammered.
"You're wearing a ring." the child said, pointing to Anderson's left hand. "But your dating her." Her finger moved to Donovan. "It's not nice."
"Um… what makes you think we're dating?" Donovan asked, trying to be casual.
Violet turned to watch the freak as she spoke.
"Well, when he came up the hill, he winked at you and you smiled and fixed your hair. Not to mention the flirty tone in your voices when you said hello. Text-book signs of in-fa-shu-a-shun." She pronounced the last word very careful, paying attention to each syllable, before she continued. "Then when he was talking to me, you were smiling at him the entire time and he was showing off his kid skills for you."
Watson, standing a few feet away, looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"So I knew you were dating from the start. Then I saw your ring, which means you're married. So I asked a question and you both looked like you'd been punched. So that answered my question. You're dating while you're married and it's not nice."
Donovan and Anderson stood there staring at her for a second before the freak came up the hill, still talking to Lestrade.
"... her body was washed, her hair combed, and she was dressed in new clothes. If I'm not mistaken, she's even wearing makeup. All was done postmortem. Whoever did this knew her personally, I'm suspecting a romantic attachment. Please look into that and tell me what you find. Did you bring me the codes I asked for?"
Lestrade produced a file. Inside were the coded messages they had found in Patty Ellis's flat, all in plastic sleeves. The freak took it, thanked Lestrade, and continued walking.
Anderson stopped him. "Holmes, I know we've had our differences, but that does not mean you continue spreading rumors about me!"
The freak looked confused for a second before he smirked. "I take it you met Violet, Anderson?"
"Hi, Mr. Lestrade." Violet said cheerfully, waving.
"Hello, Violet." Lestrade answered.
"Can we go home, Daddy? I'm kinda tired."
When Donovan realized who the child was addressing, she felt the strong urge to scream.
The freak nodded to Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan. "If you'll excuse me, I have to take my daughter home." He calmly ducked under the tape. Violet slipped her hand into his, and a still-snickering John came over to them. The three walked off to hail a cab.
Donovan and Anderson both turned to look at Lestrade, who shrugged.
"That would be Violet Holmes." he said quietly.