The Surrogate Sister (a Sherlock fanfiction)

Chapter 5

The door to the flat opens and Sherlock barges in, grabs John’s laptop from the coffee table, and sits at the desk. The other two trail in a moment later.

“Can’t you just use your own laptop?” John asks.

“Nope.” Sherlock replies, fingers flying across the keyboard.

“It’s in the kitchen.” John points to Sherlock’s laptop sitting on the kitchen table.

“Too far. This was more convenient.”

John sighs and drops his arm. He walks over to his chair, sits, and massages his temples. Victoria crosses her arms and makes her way to the couch.

She looks over at Sherlock, who is deeply concentrated on whatever is on the computer screen. “You were pretty quiet the whole cab ride home. What were you doing on that phone of yours?”

“Research, “ Sherlock replies, clearly not interested in conversation.

“Okay…” She uncrosses her arms and starts rubbing her thighs, feeling uncomfortable by the awkward silence. John just chuckles to himself.

After a few moments, Sherlock looks up from the screen at Victoria. “May I see your arm?”

Caught off guard by the request, Victoria begins to unconsciously rub her right forearm. She hesitates, and then answers, “Uh… sure.” She gets up and walks over to Sherlock, slowly rolling her right sleeve. She presents her arm to Sherlock, who grabs it and pulls her closer to him. He studies the marks carved into her skin, witching his gaze between her arm and the laptop.

He notices veins sticking out of her wrists and her hand in a tight clutch. “How are you feeling?” he asks, still studying the symbols.

“I’m fine,” Victoria responds quickly, her voice harsh and unconvincing.

In the corner of his eye, Sherlock notices Victoria clutching and tugging at the bottom of her knit sweater. He puts his focus on her fist and gently smoothes out her fingers, examining her palm. Droplets of blood seeped through opened scars that were left by the constant piercing of skin by her nails.

Victoria jerks her arm out of Sherlock’s grasp. “You done?”

“Yes.”

Victoria quickly rolls down her sleeve and walks back over to the couch. She sits and stares at her palm resting on her lap. John watches Victoria, his brows scrunched in concern. He looks at Sherlock, who has already gone back to the laptop. “Find anything?”

“Hieroglyphs.”

“I’m sorry?”

Victoria raises her head and looks at Sherlock. Knowing he has both their attentions, he continues. “The symbols are hieroglyphs. They stand for the Ancient Egyptian goddess Sekhmet, who was the goddess of war, vengeance, and destruction, as well as many other things, but those are unimportant. There is a tale in which the sun god Re set his pet, Sekhmet, to slay the men who were plotting against him. She got carried away, however, and began a murderous rampage leading up to the possible slaughter of all of mankind. She was a violent one. She would butcher the men and drink their blood, and enjoyed herself as well. To stop her, Re filled a lake with a mixture of beer and pomegranate juice, which she mistook for blood and drank. She became intoxicated, calmed, and abandoned the slaughter. She would also set plagues among the people and later cure them out of utter boredom.”

“Looks like the two of you have a bit in common,” John comments.

Sherlock looks pointedly at John, forcing John to look away uncomfortably. Sherlock continues, “So why is this all significant? Well given the fact that they would pick such a symbol shows they are a group fueled by vengeance. The marks were carved deep, but with much precision, meaning that Sekhmet is more than just a symbol to them.” He looks over at Victoria. “And I assume no anesthetics were used.” Victoria looks away, giving Sherlock a silent answer. “And they held no mercy for the murdered hostages either, given the way that they were killed, which means they are a callous, bloodthirsty group of terrorists. Possibly very dangerous.”