ᴀᴛʜᴇɴᴀ ᴊᴀɴᴇ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇs
sʜᴇ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ sʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟɪɴᴀ ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ.
Sherlock Holmes had left Alina Jackson with their daughter and carried on with his life, forgetting about her. After her Mother's death, Athena is sent to live in the custo...
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TEAS AND BOMBS
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock said loudly, as he stormed into 221B Baker Street, a highly amused Athena trailing after him, John and Lestrade not too far. "We require your assistance."
"I think she got the signal, Sherlock." Athena said, clearly amused at how a case changed her Father's attitude, as she elbowed her father, who jumped and glared at her. Athena sighed and leaned against the wall, her hand playing with her Mother's necklace.
She had no idea why she kept it, but, after Alina died, she just couldn't make herself throw it. So, she wore it herself.
A moment later, Mrs. Hudson came trotting from 221A, holding the keys to 221C and handed them to Sherlock. Athena frowned as Sherlock hesitated to open the door, she looked down at the door catching the detail which made Sherlock hesitate.
"This door," Athena said, walking to the door, "has been opened recently, the first time I came here, it wasn't."
"Obviously." Sherlock said, allowing Athena to go on. "The chips in the doorframe give it away. If it was older, the wood underneath would be discolored." Athena pointed out, as she pointed to small, crescent shaped mark on the door, the paint chipped away slightly. "Did that a moment ago. The wood underneath is the same colour as the other chips." She pointed to a different mark in the door, "That one's older. The wood's of different colour."
Sherlock nodded in agreement, impressed by his daughter, though he didn't show it.
"No. Can't be. That's the only key." Mrs. Hudson, said as she gestured at the metal in Sherlock's hands. Her eyes widened in fear as she thought someone broke into 221C."
Sherlock scoffed and removed the padlock. "I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of the basements. I had a place once I was first married. Black mould up the walls. . . ." Mrs. Hudson trailed off as Lestrade slammed the door on his face. She jumped slightly and then exclaimed, "Oh, men!"
Athena followed Sherlock into the living room, stopping shortly, her brows furrowing as her eyes fell on a peculiar sat of items set in the center of the room. "Shoes," she whispered to herself in confusion. "That's weirdly neither suspicious or anything else."
She held Sherlock back who was advancing at the show and said, "Careful, Sherlock. He's a bomber, remember?"
"I'm well aware." Sherlock muttered as he walked past Athena and knelt down beside the trainers, warily, his palms on either side of the pair, careful not to ruin it's forensic worth. Sherlock waved at Athena with his crooked fingers, signaling her to come forward.
"Is it safe, Athena?"
"I'm not a demolition expert, Sherlock."
"No, but I know you have a fascination for bombs and other explosives, judging by the amount of books you have on them. So, tell me, is it safe?"
