Sherlock's Daughter

19 - Funerals Are Not Meant To Be Happy Places

Funerals Are Not Meant To Be Happy Places

Juliet Holmes looks at her own reflection in the tall mirror while flattening down her tight, black pencil skirt. After tucking her white & grey striped blouse into the top of her skirt, she checks her simple make up to check that she looks presentable but not too done up. She has a thin layer of eyeliner, a simple brush of mascara and some lip gloss coating her chapped lèvres. Momentarily she thinks of the inconvenience of wearing gloss instead of lip stick, she would have to apply a few times before they even reach the service but then realises that none of that matters; there are two people dead.

And it is her fault.

She exhales a sigh which wavers as she feels the tears forming in the corners of her eyes but stops herself from crying. She mustn't let herself cry today in front of all those people. She runs her fingers on the top her head to fix her hair and takes a deep breath before reaching for the black blazer that sits on the bed behind her. She slips both her arms through the sleeves and shrugs the garment onto her shoulder. She hates looking so dull. It just reminds her off her terrible time restricted from the outside world in the lair of Mycroft Holmes. Everyone tended to wore black there; the security guards, the servants, her nanny. Even Mycroft wears a black suit most days apart from certain occasions like Christmas with his ghastly green suit.

The doorbell is rung alerting Juliet that it is time to go so she grabs her handbag carrying her lip gloss, some spare money and her phone before skipping down the narrow stairs in the Watson's house. John is already at the door pulling it open and greets Sherlock and Mycroft on the other side. Wait. Sherlock? Mycroft? Juliet furrows her brow as she comes face to face with her tall father and slightly taller uncle. She decides that she must have got her short stature from her mother. "Ready to go?" Sherlock snaps his daughter out of her thoughts who shakes her head as off to rid them.

"I think so." Her tone is unsure so Mary gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder from behind. Juliet follows Mycroft out of the door to get into the sleek, black car with the tinted windows but Sherlock stays behind.

"John, Mary." Sherlock begins, "Thank you for looking after her, I just wanted to make sure she was safe before bringing her home." He rambles and Mary smiles as John passes the high functioning sociopath the large rucksack containing all of Juliet's belongings. Sherlock winces at the weight.

"It is no problem Sherlock, anytime." Mary assures him.

"So is it safe now then?" John asks the unanswered question. He was surprised at the phone call he received this morning from his friend asking him for his child back.

"Not really." Sherlock responds, "But I'd rather be able to keep an eye on her."

"So she finally got through to you then." Mary states.

"What do you mean?" He replies with a raised eyebrow.

"Juliet!" She exclaims but receives no response from the consulting detective who is still looking for answers. "She has been ringing and ringing you, left loads of voice mails. Right?" Mary now looks confused as to why this hasn't rang any bells in Sherlock's mind.

"I haven't had any voicemails from her." He murmurs and pulls out his phone then clicks on his call history. He hasn't missed any calls in the past two weeks.

"Well I keep seeing her come off the phone and when I ask her about it, she claims that she is calling you." Mary expands.

"Maybe..." John trails, "Maybe you have a problem with your phone Sherlock. You miss calls from us all the time, it is probably just dodgy." He suggests.

"Probably." Sherlock although he knows that there are no issues with his phone, if he receives a miss call he is doing it on purpose. Whether it is when he is avoiding Mycroft's monotone voice, John's pleas for a new case or Mary's pleas to get a case that John can help out with. John nods and shuts the front door behind his friend who is already dumping the large bag into the boot of the car before taking a seat next to Juliet behind the driver.

"Was that my bag?" Juliet questions.

"Yes. I thought you could come home afterwards." He suggests making Mycroft roll his eyes as he continues to type on his phone in the passenger seat.

"Really?!" The young Holmes gasps making Sherlock nod. "Thank you! Thank you!" She leans over and kisses him on the cheek, "Thank you!"

"It is quite alright."

\~.~.~.~.~/

It is the end of the service and the three Holmes walk out of the church together in total silence. Juliet still has not forgiven her uncle for the ordeal he put her through and neither has Sherlock to be honest. After much debate, they waiting for an hour for the coffins to be buried so Juliet can speak at the grave. She owes them that at least. It has already been a good fifty minutes because they lingered and meandered in the church to waste time; Sherlock in his mind palace, Mycroft looking at his phone and Juliet just sitting in silence. "Well that was all a bit grim. All those sad people." Mycroft spits in disgust earning a glare from his niece.

"Funerals are not meant to be happy places, Mycroft." Sherlock responds as they continue to walk through the grass closer to the two graves of Matt and Arthur.

"Actually..." Juliet pauses her steps so the others do too, "I would rather do this alone if you don't mind."

"I would rather have someone with you." Sherlock interjects.

"Please father." She pleads and he reluctantly nods then watches her walk, slowly, further and further away.

Juliet ignores the sympathetic looks of the passer-byers as she approaches the two, black marble gravestones with the names 'Matt' engraved in one and 'Arthur' in the and their date of death. Their surname's and date of birth's are unknown even after a detailed search done by some of Mycroft's team. They came to the conclusion that when they began work for Moriarty they either created a new alias of more likely Moriarty deleted their history from all databases. The latter is most likely.

Sooner that she would like, Juliet is standing in front of the two graves and she feels herself tear up once again but she does not cry. She will not allow herself to cry, you never know who is watching. "Erm..." She ponders on what she is going to say, "Matt and Arthur...you guys made my short stay with...erm...you...quite comfortable?" She takes a step back as she collects her thoughts. "I made a stupid, naïve decision to go with Moriarty to his base thing and because of that you two are now dead. It is all my fault." She involuntarily sniffles. "Arthur, your cooking skills are much to be desired but we did have fun when you were trying to teach me to cook." She giggles at the memory. "And Matt, you may be the king of any first person shooter type of games which now thinking about it probably means that you have actually had gun training in your life so... anyway." She clears her throat. "Thank you for what you did to me and I am so sorry that your deaths are on my hands but I will avenge your deaths." She takes a step forward closer to the stones and whispers:

"Let's just say, James Moriarty is going to wish that he was never born."

A/n dun dun dunnnnnnnnnn!