August Holmes, Sherlock's Daughter

Chapter One: Car Wreck (EDITED 2023)

"I woke up to a soft beeping sound and looked around slowly. The abrasive smell of bleach flooded my nose. This was the second day I was at the hospital. I grimaced as I fought the tears threatening to spill as I remembered what happened three days ago. I was in a car crash. My parents and brother died.

They're dead.

It was then that I noticed another person in the room with me through my peripheral vision. Without moving my head, I cut my gaze to my left. It was my uncle, sitting on one of the hospital chairs. His face was grim, with dark under-eyes and a beard past due for a shave.

"Hello, August." His voice was stiff.

I tried hard to hide the look of disgust from washing over me. He was wearing a stained band shirt and gray sweatpants.

The truth was, he terrified me.

I remained silent, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing me speak. He wasn't a good person. I had fallen victim to his abuse for years. He didn't deserve my attention.

"Your parents and brother are dead." He swallowed, looking down at me. "You'll be living with me." I caught the slightest smirk, and a hint of a mischievous twinkle shone in his eyes.

I couldn't. I couldn't live with this man. My heart rate started to beep faster. I would do anything to prevent this from happening. I felt like I was living through my worst nightmare.

There was a knock on the door, and one of the doctors I didn't recognize walked in.

"Mr. Hurst? We would like a word with you," he said, adjusting the glasses that sat on his tall, European nose. His fingers twitched ever so slightly.

My uncle nodded and left with the doctor. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I looked down at my arms, which were covered in bandages and IVs.

I wasn't too badly hurt from the car crash. I was in the back of the car when the trailer slammed into our SUV. My parents were up in the front, and my brother was in the middle seat.

I scoffed, lucky? Far from it.

A nurse told me yesterday that I only suffered a broken wrist and a concussion. They said it was a miracle, but I think I would have rather died. What was the point in living without my family? Everything I've ever known has been stripped away from me.

"WHAT! That's impossible!" I heard my uncle shout from outside my room. Suddenly I saw his silhouette from inside my room knock a bunch of books over and stomp away from the doctor.

I flinched as I heard the sound of his boots echo throughout the hallway. One simple threat of calling security, and he had settled down.

My heart started to pound. My uncle was a disgusting man, who was easy to anger. The simplest inconveniences became the center of his world.

I knew what he was like when he was angry. He would try and take out his anger on Ely and me. Of course, I would never, ever, let him lay a single finger on Ely. Over my dead body.

The doctor came in shortly after and sat down on the chair next to my bed. He gave me a warm smile after quickly assessing my heart monitor.

"Hi August, how are you feeling?" he asked. "I'm Dr. Jones."

"What did you tell my uncle to make him mad?" I asked, my voice raspy from not talking. I struggled to prop myself further on the hospital pillows to look at Dr. Jones at eye level.

"Well..." Dr. Jones shifted uncomfortably. "August, when we ran a blood test we... discovered something."

"Just tell me," I whispered, my mind racing. Did I have cancer? Was I sick? Am I some mutant alien?