The Perfect Murder {Sherlock fan-fiction}

Chapter One.

*Ingrid's P.O.V*

I awake to the faint smell of cigar smoke wafting through the crack under my door. I open my eyes to see the dreary, January snow softly falling on to the pavement below. I turn over to see that the date is indeed January 20, the day I meet the strangers. A rush of anxiety fills my body, as a million questions swarm my brain. The fact that my father was so nonchalantly giving me up for a year and a half stung, but he is Mr. Durham.  The biggest man in British business has to count for something, right? I drag myself out of bed and look out of the window. The penthouse on Fifth Avenue has been my home for the past seven years, and ever since my mother died it has been quiet around here. I look at my reflection in my mirror. My auburn hair fell into effortless curls around my shoulders, and my forever fierce green eyes meet the reflection's when I decided this was probably going to be the worst day of my life. At that exact moment, my father's assistant, Mary, waltz' into my room.

"Your cab will be here in about an hour. The maids packed your belongings, and they're by the door. Before you leave your father wishes to speak to you."

I give her a small smile and a curt nod. She leaves and I decide to get ready. I decided on black skinny jeans, a white long sleeve and a black, leather jacket. I put my hair up in a high ponytail, and apply some minimal make-up. I make up my bed one last time, and grab my slouch back-pack that included my laptop, phone, and all my favorite books. I look around the large room one last time and shut the door quietly behind me. I walk up the endless staircase to my father's study. I timidly knock on the door when I hear him gruffly answer a 'come in'.

"You wished to speak to me?" I ask.

He turns around in his official office chair. He was in his mid 40's, and had a slight 5 o'clock shadow even though it was only 10. He was a very tall and fit man, who had a dangerous thirst for power. His Rolex watch dangled from his right wrist, and Mary was draped next to him. His dark blue eyes met my green ones when he finally spoke.

"Yes, I did. You understand why I have to do this," he says.

"Yes, I understand," I said, I knew exactly the reason. He is a power hungry pig, who reaches for money wherever he can find it. 

"Good, good. You will behave for these two men. One of them is a Doctor whom I know you will get along with greatly, but however the other man is indeed a whammy."

I didn't know what was worse. The fact that the man was a whammy, or the fact my father used the adjective 'whammy'.

"I am sure I will be able to handle everything perfectly."

"You better, I expect full payment by the end of this term."

I nod. 

"That will be all for now. Bon voyage."

He waves me out, and continues talking to Mary. That hurt. No 'goodbye' or 'I love you' or even a 'don't freak them out by your thing you do'.

I run down the stairs and grab both of the giant suitcases by the handle. My black and white Chuck Taylor's pound the white pavement. I was outside for about three minuets or so before the cab pulled up. The cabbie was one of my father's many friends. He didn't speak a word, but grabbed my suitcases and lugged them into the trunk. I sat quietly on my phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. I would occasionally look out the window to see where we were going. It was about forty five minuets or so before we stopped in front of what looked like a flat. The cabbie opened the door for me as I stepped out into the cold weather. He handed me my suitcases, and proceeded to get back into the car and drive away. I look up to see the gold numbers '221' engraved onto the dark colored door. I knock. An elderly woman opens up the door and proceeds to speak.