Sherlock's Daughter

17 - Good Cop, Bad Cop

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Sherrinford and Mr Anonymous Driver drop Juliet off around the corner from Baker Street to keep out of Sherlock's way. Sherrinford does not want to bother the high functioning sociopath; they weren't exactly harmonious with each other last time they were in each other's company. When Juliet tries to leave the vehicle, her uncle grabs her arm suddenly making her turn back to him. "If you need me, just give me a call." He tells her while passing over a business card.

"When will I see you again?" She asks as she takes the card and pockets it.

"Soon, I promise." He ponders with a sigh. "I am out of London this week though...got a client elsewhere."

"Oh." She pouts while peering at her hands.

"Don't message me ever. It isn't safe." He looks shifty. "Just call."

"Okay, got it." She pushes open the car door and clambers out with her uncle's eyes on her; watching her every move. "See you soon." She slams the door shut before he can respond. She doesn't say bye. In Juliet's opinion, bye is too final a word. She walks around the corner, keeping her eyes forward so she doesn't catch a glance at the flowers on the pavement, the pedestrian's wandering gaze and the police officers milling around including Detective Inspector Lestrade who notices the young Holmes but decides it is not his place to play bad cop.

Juliet does not look both ways when she crosses the street towards 221B and Speedie's Café but relies on her hearing. Fortunately, no cars do ram into her so she pulls out her house key and opens the painted black door with gold, metal plaques. When she does open the door she immediately hears the sound of Mrs Hudson bustling towards her, the questions whizzing about her elderly brain. "Juliet! We have all been so worried." Mrs Hudson announces.

"Why?" The teenager shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly which the land lady follows with snooty expression. "Okay...sorry. I was fine. I promise." She grimaces but Mrs Hudson is not convinced. "Who is up there?"

"Just your father and your uncle are up there at the moment dear." Not my real uncle, Juliet thinks spitefully but nods before scampering up the stairs to her impending doom. You may think this is an over reaction but trying to lie to one Holmes brother is difficult but two? Two is impossible.

"Where have you been?!" Sherlock's loud, booming voice alerts Juliet to her existence in the doorway to the living room. She cannot reply because he is already firing his next question. "Are you alright?"

"Oh Sherlock! She's fine! Look at her." Mycroft spits then gets to his feet. Ready to leave.

"Where have you been?" Sherlock asks, ignoring his brother's annoying running commentary. "Hmm?" He presses for an answer.

"Nowhere." She uselessly defends.

"Nowhere?!" Sherlock scoffs at his daughter's awful response. "You've been gone all day." Juliet sits herself down on the sofa feeling small with the two tall men in the room. It is quite intimidating. She is mentally kicking herself for not coming in with an excuse.

"I-I-I had to get away." She lowers her head and lets a tear slip. Sherlock is immediately kneeling at Juliet's side with a tentative hand on her shoulder. "H-h-he killed them." She bawls. "Matt and Arthur. Why now?!" She screams and Mycroft takes a step backwards while squinting at the young girl. Usually she acts like an adult in front of everyone but right now both Sherlock and Mycroft have been reminded that she is only sixteen years old.

"Juliet." Mycroft pipes up, "When you were in Moriarty's detainment, did either Matt or Arthur reveal their surnames or if they had family at all?"

"Erm...I don't know." She pauses and wipes her eyes, "They always talked but never said anything...definitely not a surname. But...Matt mentioned a girl called Lily? Maybe a girlfriend."

"She could be in danger." Sherlock tells Mycroft who takes the hint and pulls out his phone to alert his people. The consulting detective turns to his daughter with a concerned expression while thinking something over in his mind. "You can't stay here." He softly speaks after a few moments.

"What?" Juliet gasps completely astonished.

"It's not safe. Moriarty is hunting and you are not being in the firing line." He explains before adding, "Not again."

\~.~.~.~.~/

Sherlock rings the doorbell at the Watson household with Juliet who has a camping style backpack full packed with clothes and other essentials. Her father did offer her a proper suitcase but this was followed by a fully fledged argument about how the backpack is handier. The door is opened by Mary who knits her eyebrows together when she sees her visitors on the doorstep and the large rucksack. "Hi Mary, how's the baby?" Sherlock asks as he sidesteps the woman with Juliet following. Mary shuts the door behind them.

"Yeah she's good. She is finally-"

"Juliet needs to stay here." Sherlock interrupts with a serious expression; Mary's expression becomes confused. "I am worried that she is in danger. She cannot stay at Baker Street." There is a silent pause while Mary lolls this information around her head.

"Well then you shouldn't be at Baker Street either Sher-"

"What's going on?" John questions as he walks out of the living room.

"Juliet is going to stay with us for..." She looks at Sherlock for some clues of a time zone, "Some time." She adds after the high functioning sociopath shows no indication. "Come on hun, let's go and get you settled in and leave the men to have a little talk." She steers Juliet into the living room and shuts the door behind them to leave the detective and the blogger to it.

"Is this about the dead men?" John asks and Sherlock nods. "Because of that I have to look after your daughter?"

"Moriarty, John." The high functioning sociopath states in a dark tone. But how else are you meant to say that man's name after what he has done? "He tried to put a bullet in my daughter." His voice cracks at the end of the statement making his best friend's expression soften. "I-I-I cannot let him do that." He wavers and for a moment, John is adamant that Sherlock is going to cry...but he doesn't get the chance.

The detective's phone chimes so he removes the device outside of his pocket and unlocks the screen: UNKNOWN NUMBER

There is no message, well not in words or code at least, but an image. Which when Sherlock enlarges he suddenly understands a few things: firstly the reason why Juliet was so reluctant to tell her father where she had been all day, secondly the reason why she isn't stiff on a slab somewhere now and lastly the reason why his younger brother has been so mischievous of late. The photo is of Juliet and Sherrinford Holmes taking a 'selfie' on a beach somewhere. Sherlock deducts that it must be Brighton because of the terrain and the time scale that his daughter was missing. He shows John the photograph whose mouth forms an 'o' shape when the realisation hits him also. "We could get Lestrade to track the number." He suggests but Sherlock shakes his head.

"No. He is too smart for that." He thinks, "The number won't be traceable."

"So what do we do?" John asks while shuffling from foot to foot nervously; the thought of his wife and child being in danger is niggling at the back of his mind.

"We focus on Moriarty, my brother will wait." Sherlock decides. "We find Moriarty and we find out what he wants."

"That's your plan?!" The army doctor gasps at his friend's rashness.

"I never said that we would let him tell us." His expression turns dark like when he cold blooded killed Charles Augustus Magnusson. The pitch of his voice also deepens. "No one else gets hurt."

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