Oneshots, imagines, and ideas, oh my! *discontinued*

Sherlock Imagine

Sherlock Imagine

Request for: Graciously suggested by EmiLovesMusic. Thank you, darling :)

Note: I'm working on my "creative juices", loves. Patience is key, as we near 13k and 500 votes. Incredible.

Sherlock Imagine

Sherlock had been watching the news like a hawk.

There was a high-profile case, a double murder, with absolutely no evidence and no witnesses. This was the kind of case he would gush over, as strange as Sherlock gushing may seem. Still, he had to learn about it from the news. After it was solved, actually, by the Yard's new consulting detective.

They hadn't so much as paged him, hadn't rung him or sent a file over. He assumed it wasn't a translation issue as John had spoken to Lestrade many times since the bodies were found. He spoke not of the case, but of the mysterious Y/n L/n. All they knew was that she had been living in America, but they weren't sure where she was born. They knew she was 'incredibly--basically Sherlock but a lovely, kind woman'.  Immediately after learning her name, Sherlock took to stalking. He found three Y/n L/n's, but none of them had anything and there was no way to know if one was even her.

John was becoming concerned with Sherlock's obsession, and so on one auspicious, rare, sunny days he managed to drag the detective from the flat and go to lunch.

Even at the little diner, Sherlock was brooding. It seemed that the attention on this Y/n was getting to him in a rather sour way; at least that's what John thought. In reality, it was a combination of the fact that attention was off center and that she was such a mystery. She represented a challenging mystery, and Sherlock had a love-hate relationship with those.

He ordered coffee and nothing else, drawing odd looks as he sat completely still while John ate. When his attention lingered on a particular spot behind him, John turned to see that his mate was staring at a girl, who quickly went between sipping her drink and checking the time on her phone.

"Quit staring." He whispered, though he found himself watching her as well.

"What is she waiting for, here, at this diner, that is so important? It's not a date--she's not dressed for style, more so for comfort and to blend in. She isn't wearing any make-up, as women typically do, but she's quite nervous."

"Sherlock, I hate to be rude, but even I can see that."
"I know." He snapped. "I can't deduce anything more from her. It's like she's doing it..." He trailed off.  "Oh. See, it's to dramatic. She's moving her leg, checking her phone, tapping her fingers, but her eyes aren't wavering, aren't moving, she's not looking around. Do you know what that means?"

"She want's to appear nervous?"
"Exactly."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure. If I could guess, she's covering up how she really feels."
"And she's succeeding?"
"Brilliantly."

They both looked away impressively quickly as a man passed them, John  returned to his food while Sherlock continued to watch.

"What's going on?"

"He's sat down, but they haven't exchanged pleasantries. She doesn't know him, but she knows why he's there."

"Are they talking?"
"Yes. He's just slid an envelope over to her. She's opening it, taking a drink--"

The sound of a cup shattering silenced the restaurant and drew all eyes to the girl Sherlock and John had been observing. She was clutching documents, and she looked shocked to her core. Just as quickly as it happened she recovered and walked out, tossing the file in the bin near the door as she did.

As soon as everything went back to normal and the man with her had left, Sherlock jumped up and speedwalked over to the bin, grabbing the file and exiting the diner without skipping a beat. John slapped down some sum of cash that was likely much more than the total and sixteen percent before following his partner in crime.

Sherlock was leaned in an alley nearby, scanning the pages when John stopped next to him.

"What's it say? What upset her?"
"Family tree. That girl was our Y/n L/n, and she just found out that she is a Holmes."

~~~~

"You're sure that it's us?"
"It's proofed, Mycroft, I wouldn't have called you here if it wasn't. Apparantly not only is she a Holmes, she's our half-sister."

"Father?"
"Father."

Mycroft sighed while wiping a hand down his face. "How they could have kept it from us all these years..."

"I'm sure they thought it was best." John offered, only to earn a glare from Mycroft. "He means he doesn't understand how we didn't figure it out! Apparently, dad's been in contact with her before. That's why she's here."

"Maybe they were planning on telling you soon....?" He tried, only to earn a glare from Sherlock, and then both of the Holmes brothers were glaring at him.

"John, I hardly doubt they're scheduling a brunch for us all to-" Sherlock was cut off when his phone rang.

"Hello?"
"Sherlock? We need you on a case."
"Give me the address."

~~~~

The door to the house had been knocked down, and the glass panes in it had been shattered completely. While carefully negotiating the shards, Sherlock entered the crime scene and was directed to the basement, where the body rested. Half way down the stairs, though, he heard a woman's voice that made him pause.

"-obviously not planned, but I wouldn't say that it was completely out of the blue. See, there was a struggle, but not much. The victim knew his killer, as there is absolutely no opportunity for stealth. If you'll direct your attention to the wound--that looks like it was made by a cable of some sort, yeah? Have we found any bloody cables?"

"Computer charger."
"How thick?"
"Half an inch."
"Hmm. Ribbed?"
"Yes."
"Give it here."


He finished the stairs to see a young woman crouched over a dead body, being handed an evidence baggie. He watched as she fished out a computer cable and pressed it against the wound.

"Perfect match." Lestrade muttered.

"Yes, Lestrade. Incredibly unique observation. Now, whose laptop does this go to?"
"It's his daughter's."
"I'll need to speak with her. Now?"
"She's not here."
"Where is she?"
"She left earlier."

"When? Was it before three, or after three-thirty?"
"Her mom says she left just before four."
"Mmhmm. I'd like to see her down at the station for an interview. Give me two minutes with her, I'll give you a confession."

"Now hold on, we've got people trained to interrogate. You just tell us your questions and--"

"Just based on what I've seen here, you'll likely want to agree to her terms. Otherwise, you could draw this out." Sherlock finally made himself known, and the girl turned, eyes wide. She was obviously surprised to see him so early after she'd learned they were related.

"Hello, Y/n. It would appear that intelligence runs in the family."