Sherlock's Daughter

1 - Introductions and Deductions

Introductions and Deductions

It is dark. Everything is so dark; too dark. The only sources of light on this dank street in London is the dodgy street lamps, vehicle's headlights and the beams escaping through crevasses of blinds and curtains. The moon has been completely concealed by the thick clouds of smog and water vapour which are carelessly floating in the atmosphere. Hiding in the shadows are the murderers, drug dealers and the rest of the scum of the Earth but then there is a young girl.

The girl is wearing basic clothes which have not been washed for days and she is beginning to give off a stench. She looks homeless, well technically she is now. Since she ran. She shivers at the thought of going back there or maybe it is due to the icicles forming on her fingertips and her nose. The only cause of heat is the thick, khaki green coat with the fur lined hood which her savour gave to her. Now she is on her own.

She scampers across the road towards her destination; a pleasant, warm flat that sits just above a café. She wonders if he ever obtains food from there: does it taste good? Will it make her any less hungry? So far she has stolen from corner shops, pickpocket the business men and hurried away from a gang of men who tried to rape her. She rubs her hands together one final time to calm her nerves before banging the gold, door knocker twice. She waits patiently but cautiously peers around looking for security cameras, he cannot find her. They cannot not now. The door is opened by an elderly, small woman dressed in purple. She has a kind, huge smile that makes the girl smile also. "Hi..." She squeaks. "I am here to see Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah of course dear." The woman replies, "I am afraid he is out on a case at the moment. Are you a client?" She asks and the girl nods. She does not trust her voice to give her away at this point after coming so far. "He shouldn't be too long dear. How about you come in." She beckons and the girl nods as they both enter 221B Baker Street. It is dark - not as dark as outside but still dark - and grungy but it has a wonderful feel about it like home. "May I get you a cup of tea erm?"

"Juliet." Juliet replies. "And yes please Mrs?"

"Hudson." Mrs Hudson leads the way up the stairs towards the messy, dusty flat that is very much occupied. When Juliet walks through the door she takes everything in - almost too quickly - as her head begins to hurt slightly. She hears the kettle boiling in the kitchen next door and cupboards being opened and shut. She shrugs off her coat after undoing the zip and places it, carefully on the arm of the sofa which she then sits on. She takes in everything. From the two chairs facing opposite each other by the fireplace, the penknife that has been stabbed into the wood on the mantel piece and the spray painted yellow smiley face on the wall behind her; it doesn't escape her notice the bullet holes within it. "Here you go dear." Mrs Hudson breaks her thoughts by passing her a steamy, hot cup of tea. The heat against the palm of her hands makes her sigh in relief that she has made it all the way here. "You look pretty young my dear. How old are you?"

"Sixteen." Juliet takes a sip of the tea, "Of three months."

"Oh you seem quite young to be a client. Nothing too horrible I hope."

"No. Just complicated." She murmurs as the door below them is slammed loudly. Sherlock is home. Mrs Hudson and Juliet exchange brief, awkward eye contact before one of them looks away.

"That will be Sherlock. I will tell him that you are up here." Mrs Hudson announces and scurries out of the room leaving Juliet back to her thoughts. She takes this short time to continue her surveying of the flat: the mirror directly above the fireplace has a strand of foil from some tinsel which tells Juliet that they celebrate Christmas here, she almost punches the air. She has never celebrated Christmas before. The skull of a bison is hung on the wall sporting headphones, there are numerous skulls around the room actually which should nerve Juliet but it excites her.

Then there is the puzzle cube on the desk surrounded by clutter and- "I hope I am not interrupting your thoughts." His deep, booming voice enters the flat and Juliet jumps slightly prior to turning towards him.

"Mr Holmes." She greets with a polite nod and he raises his eyebrow as he deducts her. "It is a nice place you have here." She announces to try and relieve the tension but it just increases it. He scans his own flat briefly and looks back at the young, teenage girl who is sitting on his sofa.

"Really?" He questions with a scoff, "That is not what people usually say."

"Well I like it. I like the mystery of it all." She nods a couple of times but he does not move which makes her feel small so she scrunches up within herself tighter.

"Fascinating." He states and flops down into his leather armchair without any dignity. "Talk."

"About?"

"Why are you here? I have tried to deduce you but I have unanswered questions...actually it may help if I deduct out loud." He rambles and Juliet rolls her eyes. "Okay so you are a teenager, aged sixteen years old - Mrs Hudson told me downstairs - you have been running from something. I can tell from the black lines beneath your eyes that you have not slept particularly well since you started to run away which tells me that you have been on the move for...four days?" Juliet nods shamefully so he continues. "You have been sleeping on the streets in that time, starving, that tea in your hand is the first thing that you have consumed since you have escaped which you haven't stolen so technically I should report you to the police but who has time for those apes to wander over here? I am sure that I do not. That coat, someone gave to you, to help you. It has been your only source of heat so I can tell you that you are going to be ill in the next few days, nothing I can do about that. I could refer you to my doctor but he is too busy playing husband."

"John." Juliet says without thinking.

"Yes how did you know?" Sherlock asks completely baffled.

"Doesn't matter." She stands, "Maybe I should just go."

"Why did you come here?" Sherlock asks softly, "Anyone else your age would run to the local authorities or social services...why here?"

"Who controls those authorities? The government." She spitefully replies, "And who controls the government? Most people would say the prime minister but you and I know differently."

"Mycroft." Sherlock sneers with his facial features all scrunched up. He gets to his feet so both people in the room are now standing. It makes him feel more authoritative. "What is your name?"

"Juliet."

"Juliet?" He continues to rule over her and she sighs.

"Holmes." She audibly gulps as she waits for his response which is yanking out his phone and scrolling through his contacts. "What are you doing?"

"I have to talk to my brother." Before he can hit the call button, his phone is snatched out of his hands by a flustered Juliet who has become panic stricken.

"No you can't!" She exclaims.

"Juliet give me the phone!" He shouts.

"No please no!"

"Give me the phone!"

"You can't!"

"The phone!"

"No dad!" She covers her mouth suddenly after these words exit her mouth and Sherlock takes a huge step backwards. Dad?

a/n the video attatched is the advert for this fanfiction :)