Miss Moriarty is Holmes!

Chapter 14: Bassy

I owe to everyone one of my greatest and most sincere apologies for the 'latest'(that can be served with two meanings) update. Lots of obstacles along the way, but still, here we are. And here goes the 18.9K word chapter---feast also yourselves with pictures. Man, everyone waited in my previous chapter like on an edge of a high cliff. Truly sorry.

After all these time, I finally begin to understand what 'to be busy for the upcoming future of being exposed to the outside world and stepping out from your comfort zone' means. Lots of requirements are in need of my attention like deprived and neglected children.

All credits to @DawleeRipper for suggesting to give Sebastian the 'Bassy' name. It is cute and not common. Of course, shout out for the silent readers and whisper for the non-silent readers. ;)

What do you guys think about Tom Hiddleston and Taylor Swift?

(Sherlock's POV)

Dear Bassy. Who on England is Bassy?

The paper was sort of an old one judging by the times it was being fold; it was kept between the pages or in folders. Since college. It is a kind of special paper without an obvious feature to the naked eye, there is something under its layer. It is too special to be written by anything but an emotional message. It's not from England. America? Peru? Israel? It has a scent; something like oil.

I flip its sides for rounds. The letter wasn't finished. Did she decide not to continue? Having second thoughts? Why would she be having second thoughts? To whom? To---

"Sherlock," I turned on my heels in fright. Ella steps back a tiny bit instinctively at my spin. She went out for jogging and is breathing heavily. Beads of sweat were aligned on her hairline and also scattered around her forhead."um, what are you doing with my junk and why are you in my bedroom...again?" she wipes her whole face with a white towel, yet she didn't leave her eyes on me. I eased myself. I relax my shoulders down. "Er, I was actually going to drop this yoghurts on your table when I thought you're in here." I lifted the letter when I remembered it, "Who is Bassy?"

"No one. A friend." She snatches the crumpled letter from my hand and removes the plastic bag of yoghurts away from my other hand. She walk towards her kitchen, "Thought of giving him a letter."

"Bassy's a 'he'?"

She peeks her head out with her pony tail swinging to and fro. "A crossdresser. He prefers to be in a girly name and style."

"Oh."

She came back with two open beer cans and gave one for me. I accepted it and she gesture me to sit with her on her sofa.

"Done considering the case of my student's father and his 4th wife?"

"I fixed it already, the man has the history of domestic abuse from his parents and to his previous wives and deceased children."

"Josh wasn't his father's child only?"

"Two stillborn babies of twenty-five and twenty. A half-sister died of polio. He's the only one left."

"Gosh." She shut her eyes closed. I let her absorb it. It took us a minute. The moment she opened her eyes it threw a stare of uncomfort and unease. Ella stared blanky. She is thinking of a memory.

"Lestrade got him to the court." I broke her trance with a chance to somehow make her feel better, but my voice laced out monotonously.

"Thank God," She breathes out,"He has no choice but to live with an aunt. I wish the father won't get his hands on him ever again." Her hazelnut eyes spoke louder than anything when she looked straight at me. As the window to a person's soul, it was showing both worry and gladness. I could say---let's put it to this way: that her eyes are always expressive. It's like it has more than tears.