A Sign of Another

Chess Piece

John's POV:

I woke up with a pain in my back. I sat up straight and rubbed my eyes, letting them adjust to the morning light. I looked over into the kitchen where I saw Sherlock switch on the kettle.

"Morning." I said making my way into the kitchen.

"She'll be here in half an hour." Sherlock replied coldly.

"Sherlock, you still haven't told me who the mother was."

"32-24-34."

I cleared my throat and walked over to Sherlock. He seemed distant, almost as if he wanted to forget something. My guess was that he was thinking about her. The woman. I placed my hand on his shoulder, attempting to comfort him. He turned around slowly and looked down into my eyes. They were like a galaxy, colours swirling and colliding as he breathed. So many mysteries concealed in a single orb of perfection.

"What if she's just liker her, John. What will I do?" He asked, removing a stray hair from his face.

"Then you love her all the same. The woman is gone now, you don't need to fear her any more." I said, sitting down at the table.

"Very well. Thank you, John."

He took the seat opposite me and placed his head in his hands, sighing heavily as he did so. He had placed the tea on the corner of the table so I reached out for a cup and placed it to my lips. Sherlock sat up again and started to drink his tea as well. Thoughts of Irene Adler filled my mind, when she beat Sherlock, the look on her face. I batted the thoughts away and concentrated on my tea. Now was not the time.

I was sitting in a chair, reading through the newspaper. No new killings, nothing interesting for Sherlock. The doorbell rang so I got up, leaving the newspaper lying open on the seat. I made my way to the front door, took a deep breath, and opened it. Standing in front of me was a young girl, she looked about 15, with dark, curly hair falling past her shoulders. She was wearing a baggy checked shirt, black skinny jeans and a periodic table t-shirt. I smiled and held my hand out.

"So, you must be Miss Adler?" I asked as she took my hand in hers.

"Miss Holmes, please. I detested Irene." She replied shaking my hand.

"Of course! Do you need help with your bags?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

She even had his cheekbones. Her eyes, everything about her reminded me of him. Even her posture has something... Sherlock about it. I called for him and stepped outside to help her with her bags. There was a man standing next to the car. He had a suit and tie on, polished shoes and his hair was slicked back with hair gel. I guessed he was her social worker by the looks of him and the context for her being here. He was also most probably the man on the phone the other night.

I picked up some of her bags and began to make my way back to the living room when I heard her gasp. I looked at the top of the stairs where Sherlock was standing. He did his jacket button up and hopped down the stairs until he was standing next to me. He smirked and carried on down the stairs. Miss Holmes. I wondered what her first name was, but we could save that for later.

Once we had finally finished unpacking I sat down in my chair, Sherlock did the same but the girl remained standing. Sherlock looked over at her and seemed confused. I got up and moved one of the chairs next to us just like we do when we have a client. She thanked me and sat down, crossing one leg over the other.

"Jamie." She said simply.

"Who's Jamie?" I asked, sitting back in my chair.

"That would be me, hello."

"Oh, right! You can sleep in my room. I have changed the bedding but the wardrobe is still full until I find somewhere to put all of my clothes, sorry."

"No worries. I'm sorry for your loss, Doctor."

"How, how did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I am a doctor. And... Mary."

"It's obvious. You're so easy to read. You, on the other hand..."

Her gaze landed on Sherlock. He was sitting there, still looking puzzled. Sherlock shuffled in his chair, his eyes still fixed on Jamie. He looked as if he were trying to read her, but his expression remained unknowing.

"How?" He asked, still staring at Jamie.

"Single gunshot to the head." She replied, picking at her nail varnish.

"Why?"

"We all have our motives, Mister Holmes. You of all people must be aware of that."

"Why would they want to kill her?"

"We both know why, Sherlock. Think."

"The phone."

"Took you long enough. I thought you were supposed to be smart!"

Watching this small exchange between them made me feel so stupid. They could most likely have conversations between the two of them without even speaking a word. I just hoped that Sherlock would try to look after her.

My phone began vibrating in my pocket so I went into the kitchen to answer it.

Sherlock's POV:

When I was standing at the top of those stairs, my worries about my daughter vanished. Luckily, she did not look like her mother and seemed to take after me. I was currently sitting next to her, attempting to read her. She was such a mystery to me. Just like her mother was when I first met her.

John had left a few minutes ago to answer his phone. Lestrade. Hopefully there was a case to take my mind off of this child... her. He returned a few seconds later, a small smile creeping across his face.

"Sherlock Holmes, we have found ourselves a case!" He said slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"Excellent! Call a taxi!" I replied leaping up from the chair and reaching for my coat and scarf.

Jamie remained seated, still picking at her fingernails. Calling Mrs Hudson, I hopped down the stairs and asked her to look after Jamie. I wasn't going to miss this for the world. My first case in a month!

I slid into the taxi next to John and looked over at him. He seemed almost as excited as I was. I was itching to know details of the case but John stayed silent.

"So, what happened then?" I asked, wishing for an answer.

"A man was killed in a gym. He appeared to have been forced there against his will. He didn't own a gym membership so he had no reason to be there. Can it mean something?" He replied, checking his phone.

"Possibly. I will have to inspect the body first before I attempt to make any further deductions."

"Okay, what about Jamie. Do you like her?"

I didn't know how to respond. She didn't remind me too much of her mother. And somehow, she had learned to read people just like I did. Or maybe she was born with it. She didn't seem to be very annoying, which was perfect for me. I guess she could stay.

"That was rather straight to the point." I said glaring at John.

"I'm a straight to the point kind of guy." He replied with a slight smirk.

"No. No you're not. She's not that bad, but sometimes her choice of language is... familiar."

I didn't want to become attached to her, I knew that she would be used against me. Another chess piece in this little game of mine and Moriarty's. She would be the downfall of both of us. Chess is a tough game to play when your opponent knows how to break your strings. Bit by bit you are cut down until you are completely broken. She was my chess piece and we were about to start playing the game.