Sequel to The Detective's Daughter.

I don't own anything pertain to BBC Sherlock or ACD Sherlock. Etheldrea Wisteria Holmes, Abigail Tracey Grey, and Adam Hansen Grey are my original characters. Model Emily Rudd (Etheldrea), Actress Anna Sophia Robb (Abigail), and Actor Sterling Knight (Adam) are the face models for the characters.

It was early morning, and pouring rain in London. The city was just waking up, but a few members had been awake for a while now. Inside the flat of 221B Baker Street, a man was getting ready to leave. His flat mate and his daughter were not and still dressed in their pajamas.

"I'll be back later tonight." Sherlock Holmes said as he wrapped his scarf around his neck.

Etheldrea Holmes leaned against the door looking annoyed. Dr. John Watson sat in a red chair typing away on his laptop.

"I still don't see why I can't go." Etheldrea mumbled, "It's not like I'll miss anything at school."

"It's not about school." Sherlock told her, "It's about your gender. A prison filled with forty years old plus criminals; imagine all the street harassment you'd receive. I'll not have you there causing a distraction."

"But it's not like that can't happen here."

Sternly looking at her, "Etheldrea, I said no."

She puffed, walked to her room muttering, "Fine, didn't want to go to Belarus anyway. Boring there, and too cold."

John laughed, "She can be such a child sometimes. Anyway, good luck. We'll see you later."

Sherlock nodded, and left. A few moments later, Etheldrea emerged dressed for the day, with her purple scarf, and black trench coat. Her brown messenger bag rested at her side. She prepared to leave but stopped as John called her.

"Leaving before breakfast?"

"I'm fine John."

"Well I'm not. Now sit down and I'll make you some toast."

"Don't you have work?"

"Not for another hour. Now sit."

John bustled around the kitchen, prepping the toast and making tea. Making breakfast was a usual habit for him nowadays. Etheldrea may be like her father, but he wasn't going to let her have the same diet as her father. She was far too skinny as it was, and once or twice he wondered if she might have an eating disorder. Thankfully, it wasn't the case, but it had scared him in the beginning.

The toast popped, and he plated it. Then he set in front of her and sat down with his tea.

"How's school going?" he asked.

"Terrible, as usual."

"Is that Downing girl still bothering you?"

"She is, but I can handle her."

"You shouldn't have to handle her."

Etheldrea shook her head, "Teenagers are hormonal things John. Amplifies emotions, and anger is directed at the most abnormal person. You're a doctor, you know that."

She stood and placed her empty plate in the sink, then adjusted her bag, and walked out to the landing.

"Etheldrea, you aren't abnormal-"

"Spare me the lie. I am, and I'm quite proud to be. Ordinary is so dull."

"Oh so I'm dull?"

"You find joy solving cases with my father and I, you are far from ordinary. Have a good day John; I'll see you this afternoon."

Saying goodbye, he returned to his tea, and Etheldrea headed to school. She took a cab, and arrived minutes later. Avoiding the rain, she sprinted up the steps and entered the building.

The moment the door closed, she was grabbed by the arm and hauled off towards the right hallway. She tried to pull away but her captors, Raquel Downing and Jenn O'Kelly, held a tight grip. They pushed her into the girl's bathroom and shoved her to the floor.

In the bathroom, three other girls who Etheldrea couldn't recall their names stood holding buckets. Before anyone said anything, the girls upturned the buckets and drenched her with water. Then, they ran out of the bathroom, laughing the entire time.

Shivering, Etheldrea stood up and checked herself over. Her coat, thank god, had a water resistant lining which stopped her shirt and waist from soaking. However, the legs of her trousers were soaked through, and so was her messenger bag. Her folders, notebooks, and her copy of The Turn of the Screw were sodden too.

She calmly walked out of the girl's room, and towards the office. A few students in there snickered when they saw her, prompting the secretary to look up.

"Miss Holmes, you're dripping. Can you please go out to the mats and dry yourself."

"I was pulled into the bathrooms by Raquel Downing and Jennifer O'Kelly. Waiting for me were three other girls whom I don't know with buckets. They dumped them on me, and then fled the room."

"Did you not hear me? Go out and wring out your coat. Then come back and we'll set up a complaint."

She clenched her teeth, and turned around. After doing as the secretary instructed, she returned.

"That's better. Now, you said a few girls did this to you? How can we be sure it wasn't the rain?"

"Well, there are security cameras for a reason."

As if it were a pain, the secretary sighed and stood up. She walked towards the principal's office and motioned for Etheldrea to follow her.

"Sir, Etheldrea believes some girls pulled her into the bathroom and dumped water on her. She wants us to check the cameras to see who did it."

Mr. Dwaine nodded, "Well, let's see. When did this happen?"

"About ten minutes ago." Etheldrea said.

Mr. Dwaine grabbed a remote and pointed it at a screen to the left of his desk. Etheldrea could see the screen divided into four parts, each camera at the entrances and exits of the building. The footage rewound back to the moment Etheldrea walked in. He pressed play, and they watched as two figures grabbed her, and pulled her down the hall.

That was the only footage of the attack, and Etheldrea knew she was screwed.

"Now Miss Holmes, there are several things that could have happened out of the camera's eye." Mr. Dwaine started, "Do you have any evidence that your story is true?"

She clenched her fists, gritted her teeth, and said, "No."

Then she turned and walked out of the office. At her locker, she hung up her scarf and coat, and set her books down to dry, although it wouldn't help much locked inside a dark place. As she stepped back and closed her locker, hands shoved her into the wall. Down the hall, a couple boys ran away as they laughed.

The rest of her day went just as well. In first period, from the twin brother of her friend, Abigail Grey, she discovered was out sick, so she had no one to talk with. Every break period she was pushed along until she got to her class. When lunch came around, she would have hid in the bathrooms except that Raquel Downing and her friends were heading in that direction.

The lunch room was nothing but hostile, and no teacher would let her sit in the classroom. Her only option left was outside, where it was still raining. Her next periods went the same as always, and by the time her final class had finished, she had had enough.

The bell rang and she practically sprinted to her locker, glad to be out. Her scarf was slightly damp still, and her jacket was a bit worse from lunch. Still, she swung them on and closed her locker. She felt the presence before she saw it and before she could duck out of the way, another bucket of water slashed over her head. Hands heaved her into the lockers, and she responded by kicking her attackers leg out. She recognised him as Stephen Parks while he lay on the ground.

Now, all students in the area were glaring at her, and a few even moved towards her. Gripping her bag, she ran down the hall and out the school. She made it out of the grounds and down the street before she slowed down. Checking behind her, she saw no one following after her and sighed in relief.

"Miss Holmes would you like a ride?" a voice called out.

She turned and saw Anthea standing a few feet away next to the black car. She hadn't even noticed the car. Etheldrea considered walking home as the rain had stopped a while ago, but the wind picked up and she shivered. She hurried to the car and got in. After she buckled, Anthea handed her a white handkerchief.

"What's this for?"

"To dry your face."

"To dry-?"

When she touched her cheek, she was surprised to feel dampness. When had she started crying? She hadn't cried since primary school. She wiped the tears away, and handed the handkerchief back.

"Mr. Holmes would like to know if anyone needs to be mutilated or maimed in anyway."

"Tell Uncle Mycroft to leave it alone. They're teenage bullies, not convicted criminals."

"They could be."

"Leave it. I can handle it on my own."

"Personally Miss Holmes, I don't think it should be your job to handle. The school-"

"The school won't do anything because I'm a know-it-all. Besides, it's just another two months and one week. Summer starts and I'm free for a little while."

"But then it begins again."

"And I'll handle it when the time comes."

The car stopped at Baker Street, and she hurried inside. John was inside, now sat in the red chair. He looked up as she passed by to go to her room.

"How was school?" he called.

"The usual." She replied back.

She stripped off her scarf and jacket, placing them near the heat by her bed. The top collar of her shirt was wet from the water, and she quickly changed into a different top. Her pants were mostly dry aside from small splotches here and there. Then she placed her materials by the heater as well.

John had walked in as she did that and looked at her questionably. Then he noticed her wet hair.

"Etheldrea, what happened at school?"

"Nothing of importance."

"What I'm looking at right now says different. The rain stopped two hours ago, so I know something's up."

"This morning, some girls thought it would be funny to drag me to the bathroom, and dump water on me. Then to repeat the act after school."

John looked shocked, "How could they do that? That's absolutely barbaric! They got detention, right?"

"Of course not. I couldn't prove that it was them, so they got off scot-free."

"Oh Etheldrea," he sighed, giving her a hug, "I'm sorry. Tomorrow you should get your father down there and talk to the principle."

Awkwardly, she returned the hug, "Dad's not exactly welcomed there."

"You mean he's not allowed?"

"Well, no, but the situation would just be made worse if he tried to talk to the principle. He's insulted one too many teachers for his word to be valid."

"He would, wouldn't he? I can go-"

"Absolutely not. Even if it was dad, I would protest. Believe me John, I've dwelt with worse."

He looked a bit defeated, "Come on, dry your hair, and we'll see if Mrs. Hudson is doing anything important."

They traveled downstairs to visit the landlady. John explained what had happened, and the three spent the afternoon together watching crap telly. Etheldrea had rolled her eyes at first, but after a few minutes, was slowly dragged into the drama on the screen. Often, she was shouting deductions at the screen and mad when everything went all wrong. John could only imagine what would happen if Sherlock started watching it with them. Soon, he left to go shopping, leaving the women alone to watch Connie Prince.

"Do her tips actually work?" Etheldrea asked.

"Oh yes. I should never where cerise. Apparently, it drains me."

Etheldrea looked at Mrs. Hudson's lavender dress, and imagined it was cerise.

"She's right."

As they watched, Etheldrea heard the front door open. John had been gone as long as it took him to get to the store, so she assumed it was her dad. She stood up, and went to check, with Mrs. Hudson following her. As he placed something in the fridge, the girls greeted Sherlock.

"How did the case go?" Etheldrea asked.

"Fine. He murdered her, open and shut case."

"Not worth traveling, was it?"

"Not in the slightest. Now I'm bored. There weren't any interesting cases while I was gone, were there?"

"None at all."

"Did anything happen to today?"

"Nope. It's been a rather boring day."

Mrs. Hudson tutted, "Now I wouldn't say that. School was-"

"Like I said, nothing happened today."

Etheldrea walked over to the bookshelf and grabbed a random book, and then went to sit on the sofa. She peaked over the top and saw Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock speaking in a whisper. Every now and then, Sherlock would glance back at her.

Mrs. Hudson left after making sure the father and daughter were cared for. Sherlock went to his room and changed into some more comfortable clothes, and then paced around the room. John came back a while later, and began put the groceries away after welcoming Sherlock home. Sherlock took to sitting in his chair, fiddling with John's gun while he wasn't looking.

Halfway through putting the groceires away, Mrs. Hudson came up again and asked John for help outside. She had forgotten to bring the chairs and tables into the café after closing. As soon as he was gone, Sherlock began to shot at the wall above Etheldrea's head. She rolled her eyes and glanced at the yellow smiley face Sherlock had made a few days prior.

"Nice shot." She muttered, going back to her reading.

"Thanks." He said, shooting some more.

John came in, his hands over his ears, and shouted, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Bored." He mumbled softly.

"What?"

"BORED!"

"No-"

"BORED! Bored!"

Sherlock stood and shot at the wall again, twisting form his front to his back. Etheldrea didn't even flinch, acting as if the bullets whizzing about her head were nothing more annoying than buzzing bees. John grabbed the gun and emptied the clip as Sherlock walked over to the sofa and laid down next to Etheldrea.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them."

"So you take it out on the wall?"

Sherlock sighed, "The wall had it coming."

"What about that Russian case?"

"Belarus? Open and shut murder. Not worth my time."

"Oh shame." John said, heading back into eh kitchen to finish putting the shopping away.

Etheldrea heard the fridge open, and then the sound of John cursing.

"A severed head!" John called.

"Just tea for me thanks." Sherlock said.

"No, there's a head in the fridge."

"Yes?"

"A bloody head!"

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it? You don't mind, do you?"

"Well . . ."

"Got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death. I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

"Er, yes."

"A Study in Pink. Nice."

"Well, you know. Pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"

"Um . . . no."

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the stupid little domestic that had begun, but it was far too funny.

"Flattered?! 'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about something's.'"

"Now hang on a minute, I didn't mean that-"

"Oh you mean 'spectacularly ignorant in a nice way? Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister or who's sleeping with whom."

"Whether the earth goes around the sun."

Etheldrea rolled her eyes as Sherlock sat up.

"Not that again! It's not important!"

"Not impor- It's primary school stuff. How can you both not know it?"

"Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it."

"Same." Etheldrea mumbled.

"Deleted it?"

"Listen." Sherlock pointed to his head, "This is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. Really useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. That makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

John bit his lip and seemed cautious to answer, "But it's the solar system!"

"Oh hell! What does that matter? So we go round the sin. If we went round the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work! Without that, my brain rots. Put that in your blog. Or better yet, stop inflicting your opinions on the world."

With that, Sherlock twisted and pouted into the side of the couch. Etheldrea chuckled and shook her head, and then ran a hand through his hair.

"Etheldrea, do you agree?" John asked.

"Everything my dad just said applies to me too. Sorry."

"Right."

John stood and walked over to get his jacket. Sherlock and Etheldrea looked up at him, confused.

"Where are you going?"

"Out! I need some air."

Mrs. Hudson walked up the steps in to the flat, knocking on the door, "Woo-hoo! Have you three had a little domestic?"

"It was mainly them." Etheldrea pointed out, "I just sat here and laughed to myself."

Sherlock stood and walked on the coffee table, and then to the window. Mrs. Hudson bustled around the kitchen. Etheldrea stood up and went by her father. She watched as john crossed the street and continued down until he disappeared from view.

"It's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more." Mrs. Hudson said.

As he surveyed the outside Sherlock said, "Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Calm. Quiet. Peaceful. Isn't it hateful?"

"I'm sure something will turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."

"Can't come too soon."

Etheldrea smirked, "Can't wait."

"Hey, what have you done to my bloody wall? I'm putting this on your rent young man."

Mrs. Hudson left them, and Sherlock turned and walked to the center of the room as he smiled at the wall. Etheldrea took a seat at the desk and watched as he sighed.

There was a flash of light, and then chaos around them. A large boom shook the street, blowing out the windows, and throwing Sherlock and Etheldrea to the floor.