Michael Holmes: Secret Son of Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 18: Funeral

Olivia's funeral

The funeral was just like any other normal funeral you would attend. Everyone wore black and white, mourning the early death of the young talented singer.

Sally held a piece of paper in her hands, trying to held her tears as she read the eulogy speech she prepared. "The years I spent with Olivia in my life were filled with excitement and adventure. She showed up for life in the biggest way possible. From the moment she shared her cookie with me on the first day of kindergarten, I knew we would be best friends..."

All the words she said were blurry to Michael. He believed that if Sherlock was here, he would definitely laugh and say it's the most ridiculous speech he ever heard. Luckily he was pulled into another one of his cases in the last minute.

Some case about a creepy zombie suddenly appearing inside someone's house in the middle of the night, apparently. Sounds like schizophrenia to Michael.

As the speech ended, everyone was either in tears or trying their best not to. All except Michael, that is. June was sitting beside Michael, holding his hand tightly. He wanted to object, but decided to keep quiet. It's just for a while, anyway.

"Are you okay, Mike?" June looked at him. Her eyes were swelling, and her hair and face was a mess. If anything, he was definitely more okay than her. He stared at the coffin with a straight face, his curly blonde hair still in tact, and there were no signs that he was crying or sobbing at all.

June looked at him, worried. Just a few days ago, he was screaming and shouting beside Olivia's dead body, his hands and clothes covered in bright red. He seemed to be in a trance, kept mumbling a few words to himself as the teachers and security slowly pull him away from her.

Michael could guess what she was thinking about. "You know, I have no idea what happened yesterday." He turned around to find her confused face. "It was like my brain erased the memory of Olivia's death." There was a sudden silence that filled the place, the air starts to get so thick that you can even slice through it.

"Whatever happens, whatever lies in the future, I'll always be there if you need anything from me." A gentle voice broke the silence. She smiled slightly at Michael. And at that moment, he felt his face getting warm and his heart beating like crazy.

It was a feeling Michael had never felt before.

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Michael was mentally exhausted when he came back from the funeral. "YES! Of course, it was his ex-wife! All she needed was a bit of make-up and some drugs poured into his morning coffee!" Sherlock rolled his eyes at Lestrade. He had explained the case to him a million times and the DI still doesn't get it.

The detective turned to Michael as he entered the flat. "Ah finally, Michael! At least now not everyone in this room is a complete IDIOT." John and Lestrade looked at the detective, offended. "Where have you been? It's been a whole morning."

John rolled his eyes at his friend. Can't Sherlock be a bit more sensible? "Funeral, remember?"

"Ah, yes! The funeral. The murderer's first mistake." Sherlock grinned casually. "He killed Olivia in front of a whole crowd, unlike his usual way of killing the victim secretly. So the murderer must be in the hall at that time. Which leads me to another question that I should have asked earlier... how was the victim killed?"

"Sherlock, I don't think it's the right time-" John gets cut off by Sherlock.

"Maybe from behind the curtains? Nah, too obvious for such a clever murderer. But how though? An invisible shooter?"

"A red dot appeared on her face when she was shot..." Michael said. "It was hard to notice."

Sherlock, Greg and John's eyes widen as they heard this. "What?" Michael looked at the three. "Dad?"

Sherlock stared blankly as he walked into his room. He was obviously shocked by what Michael said, but why? "What happened? John?" Michael was getting more and more worried by the second.

"Shit." The army doctor muttered under his breath. "Moriarty."

"Moriarty? Isn't he the criminal mastermind that managed the simultaneous break-in of the Tower of London, the Pentonville Prison, and the Bank of London?" Michael asked.

"A psychopath. A spider. A consulting criminal." John said. "Sherlock's equal."

"But he's dead." Greg's face was twisted with confusion. "He shot himself. How is he alive?"

"I mean Sherlock did manage to fake his own death for two years." Michael added. "No offence."

"That's what we have to find out." John said.
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