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

Chapter Three

I barely sleep at all that night; the visions of graffiti and dead bodies flash before my eyes as I attempt to piece together the case, but like a puzzle that's missing its pieces, I know I can't find the right solution without having the evidence to support it. I know the graffiti is a warning and that it must mean something, but the question is, what?

Another fact I can't establish is how did the murderer manage to scale around ten floors of flats up to Van Coon's bedroom?

At five, I pull myself out of bed and head down to the kitchen. As I grab the milk from the fridge, I check the reaction one of my skulls has had to the acid I poured over it yesterday and note down the results.

John is in the living room and jumps as I walk up behind his armchair and peek over his shoulder to his laptop screen, and to extend, the job application form for a GP at a local surgery.

"Sophie!" he cries, gasping and clutching his laptop tight. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

I send him my innocent face, then plonk down opposite him on dad's seat. "Why are you so determined to get a job?"

"We need the money," he says quietly, going back to typing.

"We've got that cheque Sebastian gave you," I point out, and John looks up, surprised, "and more upcoming. We'll be fine for several months."

"How did you know I'd taken it?" he asks me, looking utterly confused.

"I'm not stupid," I scoff. "I knew you were worried about paying the bills, so you collected the cheque. Hardly a difficult leap."

John shakes his head in disbelief and concentrates back on the laptop in front of him. "Looks like I have an interview at Dr Sawyer and Partners," John says, reading through the text on the screen. "It's for ten o'clock down Thurliegh road." He looks up to me for my response.

"Thurliegh?" I ask, confirming and working out the route in my mind. "That's just under five miles away. Why not just go somewhere closer?"

John shrugs and slams his laptop shut. "Dunno, I've just got a good feeling."

I purse my lips, unconvinced, but decide to play to conventions. "Fair enough. Good luck." I head back into the kitchen to finish making my breakfast. "Hmm, might need some new milk," I say as I look at the old pint with disdain. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Yea, ok, stay safe!" John calls after me as I grab my coat, and I roll my eyes. He knows perfectly well I can look after myself.

Downstairs, I open the front door and step out onto the pavement, turning my coat collar up against the breezy morning. Across the road, a short Asian woman wearing dark glasses points a camera towards my direction, but as a bus passes in front, she disappears. Shrugging it off, I hail a cab and get in, ensuring I keep an eye on where the woman was standing. Perhaps it's just paranoia.

The lady doesn't crop up again at all during the morning, which leads me to think that she was just a tourist that happened to be looking my way. Strange that she was wearing glasses, though, unless she had an eye problem. Not that she matters now.

A fresh pint of milk numbs my hand as I carry it back to Baker Street. As I enter the flat's kitchen, I suppress a snigger as John paces the room in a plaid shirt and a dull brown jumper.

"Do you realise that you've still got around three hours until you need to be there?"

"Sophie!" he cries again, and I chuckle quietly. He seems to be particularly on edge this morning. "It's good to be prepared."

"Aren't you a bit too prepared?" I laugh. "You've got more qualifications than most of the doctors who work there put together!"

"Don't say that!" John groans.