Hello all,
This is another story from me. It has been completed in the back of an old exercise book, and now all that's left is for me to type and upload! I am going to begin with two chapters to start off, and then hopefully continue with daily updates. It should be complete in about a week.
Please comment, it means so much for me to receive feedback for my work.
DISCLAIMER: if you recognise it, it's not mine. Rated T to be safe.
This introduction is set part of the way through The Reichenbach Falls, and the story is AU from there.
Prologue
It was just another day at Baker Street.
Sherlock was bored, as usual. He hadn't had a case in weeks, and John had to take precautionary measures, that is, hide his gun, and keep a fire extinguisher in sight at all times. He even considered investing in earplugs, but in the end just settled on new headphones for his iPod. After this length of time he had to admit that Sherlock had a point. Even he was starting to crave the excitement that came with a murder or a kidnapping.
Downstairs the outside door opened, and then slammed shut, and Lestrade's heavy footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs. Sherlock leapt to his feet. His expression was neutral, but John could tell that he was giddy with excitement.
"What's happened?" asked Sherlock the minute the DI came through the door.
"There's no case," said Lestrade. "But you need to come with me."
"What's he done now?" sighed John.
"Nothing, but you still have to come."
"Not in the police car, I'll follow behind."
"I'm not in a police car. I brought mine."
"Oh," he said, glancing out of the window. "Yes, I see. You must be pretty desperate to get me there."
"Exactly,"
The journey was silent as Lestrade smoothly negotiated the London traffic. At last they pulled up outside Scotland Yard, and while Lestrade parked, John and Sherlock made their way to his office. John couldn't help noticing that a lot of people were giving Sherlock odd looks. Well, odder looks than normal.
Lestrade's office wasn't empty.
"Ah, Donovan," said Sherlock smoothly. "Still scrubbing Anderson's floors?"
The pair glared at him, but Lestrade arrived just in time to intervene.
"Right,"
He reached into his desk draw, and pulled out some papers. From them he extracted a photograph. He held it up for Sherlock to see.
"Do you recognise this woman? She was found dead in an alleyway a couple of hours ago."
Sherlock's face went completely white. "C-Carol?"
"So you do know her?" gasped Donovan. "Holy…"
"What's her surname?" interrupted Lestrade.
"I – I don't know," said Sherlock, sounding unusually shaken. "She's dead?"
Lestrade nodded. "Sherlock, did you sleep with her?"
John spluttered. Sherlock jerked upright in shock.
"How could you possibly deduce that?"
John's jaw dropped, and he peered forwards to study the photograph. It showed a teenage girl in a school uniform, but the photograph was at least fifteen years old. The girl had bright red hair, and pale skin with freckles. Meanwhile the officers were exchanging horrified glances.
"Shit," huffed Lestrade. "That's the last hope gone."
"What are you talking about?" whined Sherlock. He didn't like being left out. Lestrade handed him the photograph.
"Look on the back,"
Neat, rounded handwriting.
Her name is Indigo Holmes. Look after her – Carolyn.
"Who – what…"
"Indigo Holmes is the baby that is currently being cared for downstairs.
XXX
The girl was undoubtedly Sherlock's. She had his eyes, and his high cheekbones. However the little hair she had was already a soft gingery colour.
For the first time since John had known him, Sherlock was speechless. He held the little girl in his arms as she drifted off to sleep, his face a myriad of emotions that were obviously unfamiliar and frightening for him. His voice, however was calm as Lestrade asked questions about the mother.
"I met her at one of Mycroft's functions. She was… intriguing. The first time I saw her, I couldn't deduce anything. It was very distracting."
"Love at first sight," sneered Anderson. Sherlock glared at him.
"She was playing mind-games with me," he snapped. "Then the next thing I knew, we were both drunk, and…"
He trailed off; both Anderson and Donovan were staring at Sherlock in horror.
"Did you see her again?"
"A few times," he shrugged. "She'd come over occasionally and help me with my experiments. Sometimes we went to her place, occasionally we'd go out for coffee… but I haven't seen her for some months now."
He glanced back down at the baby girl in his arms and sighed.
"Oh, Carol why didn't you just tell me?"
"When exactly did you last see her?"
"I don't know, I'm not very good at keeping track of time."
"Why didn't you say you had a girlfriend?" asked John.
"You never asked. Now, if you don't mind, I think I should take her home."
XXX
Mycroft came around that afternoon, when John texted him an SOS. He raised his eyebrows and Indigo, who was asleep again, wrapped in one of Sherlock's shirts.
"Well this is unexpected," he drawled lazily. "I wasn't sure that John was actually being serious, but now… the mother's dead, I presume."
"Yes," said Sherlock with a taut expression. "I'm not going to tell you who she was, I… I don't really know myself. She never used her surname."
"She was Irish,"
"Correct."
"How can you tell?" asked John.
"Her hair colour and skin tone," said Mycroft.
"And I heard her speak," pointed out Sherlock. "She had an Irish accent, but her diction, and the photograph suggests she went to an English boarding school."
He handed the picture to Mycroft.
"I found several more photographs in the school records, but no names or information. They've been wiped."
"Hm," said Mycroft, who was memorising the photograph. "Are you asking me for help, little brother?"
Sherlock scowled, but nodded grudgingly.
"I'll see what I can do. I was going to come over anyway. A few days ago, I met with John to inform him that a squad of highly trained assassins had just moved into the local area. Now they have all been withdrawn."
"What? Why? Who did they kill?"
"They didn't kill anybody. They were here under the request of Moriarty. Now they've just vanished. I was able to trail a couple of them right out of the country. They just scattered."
"They've gone home?" asked John in surprise. "But Moriarty wouldn't just call them off like that."
"No," agreed Sherlock. "He must have found something else to entertain him."
"Should I be worried?"
"I expect so," said Mycroft. "Moriarty will come around again, however long it takes."