Sophia Holmes and the Blind Banker (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter One

Recap:

"I'm bored!" I cry, pacing the living room of 221B Baker Street.

"You're not the only one," dad groans from his position on the sofa. "No cases, no juicy murders - London's dried up."

I growl furiously, and toss a newspaper across the room.

It's been two whole weeks since the Pink Lady case, and London seems to have run out of creative ideas for cases. It's true we've had clients, but only boring ones like: "My Gran died, and I think it was murder." You see my problem?

The doorbell rings and my eyes light up at the sound. "Single ring," I whisper.

"Maximum pressure," dad adds.

"Just under half a second," I smile.

"Client!" we both yell, and dad stands up and starts towards the door as Mrs Hudson brings up the client.

The client is dressed in traditional Iranian robes and his face is almost completely covered in a variety of scarves. It makes him difficult to deduce, but maybe that's his intention.

"Mr and Miss Holmes," he greets us in a low voice as he bows.

Dad and I bow back respectfully, and dad gestures for him to sit on the sofa. "What do you have for us?"

"A diamond," he begins slowly, and dad stops pacing.

"The Jaria diamond?" We'd been offered the case by email a few days ago, but we haven't responded. Obviously they've come to chase us up.

The man nods. "It is one of our country's most valued possessions, Mr Holmes. It is said that the great God Meromes cast it out of a star from the sky to protect our ancient land. You can understand why we need it back?"

Dad raises his eyebrows and starts pacing again. "I wouldn't believe everything you hear."

"Are you implying that there is no God then, Mr Holmes?" the client demands, standing up from his seat.

I mirror him, pushing my chair back under the table. "Of course there isn't," dad scoffs. "It's a figure of people's imagination - there is no God."

The client draws a large scimitar from underneath his robes and dad rolls his eyes.

"Dull," he says, just as the sword comes down.

Chapter One

Dad backs away carefully and ducks to avoid the blow. The client-turned-attacker advances on dad, pushing him back against the sofa. I grab the attacker's arms as he slashes his scimitar down onto dad, and dad ducks under the sword in time and drops into a sitting position. I jump out of the way as dad kicks out his leg, striking the assailant's chest hard before the robed figure can bring the scimitar back down. As he stumbles backwards, dad jumps back up and straightens his jacket once more before charging across to join my fight with the attacker.

"Duck!" he yells, and I crouch in time for the blade to pass over my head then kick out my leg so he buckles to the floor.

The man growls at me and I bounce back up. He mirrors me and brings the sword down upon me. Dad pushes me out of the way and grabs the mans wrists tightly, but the man pushes dad towards the kitchen with his sword held horizontally in both hands and pins dad onto our kitchen counter. He pushes down, the blade resting on dad's neck, threatening to cut. Dad grimaces under the weight of holding the scimitar away, so I charge forward and kick the attacker in the popileta fossa. He bends a little from the impact but doesn't fall, however it's enough to distract him and dad tilts the scimitar sideways and out of harm's way.