Just Your Average Annie (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

• Seven •

Annie was twenty years old when she learned the truth about her father. She was nearing the end of her second year of college, and her father had been pestering her about a university in the United States, one that her mother had gone to when she was her age. Though she wasn't planning on going, she had told her father that she'd think about it (she was far too nice for her own good). Two weeks later, she was planning on announcing her decision to her father, when she had stumbled upon a note laying on the desk in her father's study.

A brief skim of the contents was all needed to see to know that her father was not who he said he was.

From the day her mother died when she was six, to the moment before she picked up that letter, for a whole fourteen years, Annette Elana Anderson had been looking up to a lie.

Annie's father was working for a criminal. He had apparently been hired to work for the man, judging by the handwriting and signature (which read J.M.), the day before.

The letter went on to explain her father's situation regarding his previous employer, who was, much to Annie's displeasure, yet another criminal. Her father had been working for this lawbreaker (one who she had yet to know the name of), unbeknownst to his wife and daughter, when one day he was found out. Annie's mother confronted him, and later was killed due to the mere fact that she had knowledge that his employer didn't want her to have.

Annie was told it was cancer, that she hadn't told her daughter in order to protect her, but she knew they were lying. She just hadn't known the truth at the time, or how to find it. She supposed that was one reason why she felt so drawn to Sherlock: he was able to find the truth that she so desperately wanted, so desperately needed, even when everyone else was a liar.

So when Annie found out the truth, her first response was to contact him.

"Sherlock," she began, her shoulders tense as she paced back and forth across the room. She gripped the letter in her left hand, her fingers turning white from the pressure. "Sherlock, I have a case for you."

"I already have a case," he replied immediately, scoffing at her words. He paused for a moment, taking in her tone before asking her a question. "Is it a murder? With a note?"

"No - well, yes, but," Annie sighed, closing her eyes before taking a deep breath, her hands shaking from the shock. "Sherlock, I have reason to believe that my father was involved with my mother's death."

Sherlock took an intake of breath, clearly not expecting such words to come from her lips. A moment of silence was shared between the two, apart from Annie's shaky breathing and Sherlock's indecipherable mumbling, a sign that he was deep in thought. Not five minutes later, Sherlock's muttering ended with a gasp, before the detective choked out something from his end of the phone.

"Oh my god. Annie, where are you?"

"In my father's study," Annie answered, growing nervous after hearing the frantic tone of his voice. "Why?"

"Listen to me, you have to get out of there, now."

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Sherlock was close to yelling at this point, but refused to give in to his instincts in order to keep from scaring Annie more than she already was.

"Annie, I'll explain later," he promised, running as fast as he could down the street towards the Holmes household. He had been working on a case for a neighbor, but left as soon as Annie had called him. He was soon regretting not living closer to his longtime friend.