Little Holmes

Chapter Two

Ella didn't really know what  she was thinking, but she found herself at her old home, pacing the living room and thinking about how she could get in contact with Moriarty. Ah, yes, the Holmes house. Her childhood home. Unused, dusty, but still theirs. Her family was rather rich, rich enough to own their childhood home and the one her parents lived in now. No, Ella, focus. She scolded herself. Back to Moriarty. He was hard to get to, but she wasn't about to let him walk free after what he had done. She opened her laptop and saw the website her and Sherlock had built together. She loved that website. An idea popped into her head: If her and Sherlock had contacted him through there during 'The Great Game', as John called it, maybe he'd still keep an eye on it. Maybe she could contact him through there. She opened the text box for a new blog post.

What to write? It'd have to be vague, but with enough meaning to get to Moriarty.

Going home can make you remember so much. Back to my childhood home, and Little Holmes has discovered something naughty about the big, bad wolf. -EH

She posted it and closed the laptop, hoping it would lure him in. She felt slightly dizzy; she was playing a dangerous game with the consulting criminal, spinning lies. She had nothing on him. And Sherlock wasn't there to help her think. No no no no stop thinking about Sherlock. She whispered in her mind. But she already was thinking about him. Thinking about why he'd jump. Thinking about where he was now: Heaven? Hell? Some sort of nothing-ness? Her eyes found all sorts of scratches and mars on the furniture that brought back childhood memories of playing pirates with Sherl. Because he'd always be Sherl to her, even if she called him Sherlock. Even if he was dead. Her phone buzzed, abruptly cutting off her morbid thoughts, and she studied the unknown number on the screen before she unlocked her phone.

You are starting to get in my way, little Holmes. I assume I am the big, bad wolf? What have you found? - JM

She hadn't actually found anything, of course, but she had to lure him to talk to her somehow. Beyond that, Ella hadn't the faintest idea what her plan would be. She wandered around the abandoned house and walked into Sherlock's childhood room. That was where she'd put her small bag of clothes and such. She looked around at the neat bed sheets (his mother's doing, he was always so messy) and his posters stuck to the walls with peeling tape. She opened one of the drawers and gave a bitter smile at the needles that still sat there. Shaking her head, she closed it and pulled Sherlock's phone from her bag. Yes, she'd taken his phone. Yes, it was awful, disappearing on John with most of Sherlock's possessions. No, she couldn't dwell on it. This was not a good time. She had a psychopath to catch. It felt so wrong to her, going through her dead brother's phone, but it was extremely important. She had to single-handedly bring down Moriarty, seeing as probably only her and Sebastian Moran knew he was alive, and Moran certainly wasn't about to do it. So she guessed the code ('John'- So simple for him, she thought with a little smile) and unlocked Sherlock's phone.

She scrolled through the files. Useless, most of them. There was one called 'Lazarus' that she ignored. Anything on Moriarty would've been labelled clearly. Finally, she came across one that read 'Moriarty's Background (I could've gotten this without your help, Mycroft, since I know you're hacking my files and planting things)' She smiled softly and it turned sinister as she opened the file. Surely, there'd be something in there.

"Come on, Sherlock," she muttered under her breath. "One last thing for your dear old sister." It loaded and she scanned it hopefully. There wasn't much.

James Moriarty

Age: 30

Family: Both parents murdered by assassins when he was ten. James found them laying dead in the kitchen and was taken to an orphanage where he was never adopted. - Resulted in separation issues and trust issues.

Current life: Consulting criminal, with his own network estimated about 300 trained killers and his right hand man, Sebastian Moran [See: Moran, Sebastian].

She read through it and was shocked and felt sorry for him. No wonder he was like this. She shook her head as she remembered what he had done to Sherlock and all those other people and texted him back, hoping she would get a reaction from him

Looks like little Jimmy has got some Mummy/Daddy issues -EH

She felt a sinister side of her come out and she wasn't even attempting to hold it back. She may have been on the side of the angels, but just like Sherlock, she was far from being one of them.