Perjury (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 7

"Describe them?  What do mean 'Describe them'?" Brayleigh asked.

"Isn't it obvious.  Tell me what they were like: what they did, where they ate, what their jobs were, what they read, anything that I could use to figure out this password," Sherlock rattled off, his hands moving as he spoke.

"Mum said something about being a  lawyer and Dad used to be a member of the House of Commons," Brayleigh began.  "They always took walks in the evenings and stopped to eat Chinese on their way back.  They both loved philosophy and were very unhappy with the state the government was is.  Mum preferred documentaries while Dad watched programs on World War Two, specifically those dealing with ULTRA.  The way they parented was rather strict.  I always had to tell them where I was and what I was doing.  They bugged my phone."

"At your house," Sherlock interrupted, "there was a picture of an infant girl on the table nearest the couch.  But it wasn't you.  Couldn't have been you.  Then who was it?  Who would you have a picture of in your house?  Relatives, most certainly, but if the Saorises' were trying to go unnoticed, they wouldn't have pictures of their extended family.  No.  They would only have pictures of someone close to them, their immediate family.  Now, question is, how is she related?  Could be a granddaughter, step-granddaughter even, but that's highly unlikely.  What is likely, though, is that she was the Saorises' daughter."

"Excuse me," John said.  "Was?"

"And how do you know it wasn't me?" Brayleigh asked.

"My God, if you would just think!" Sherlock exclaimed, now pacing the floor.  He stopped and looked at Brayleigh.  "It's obviously not you.  You have brown hair and brown eyes.  The baby in the picture was over six months old and had blue eyes.  Assuming you don't wear contacts, which you don't, if that were you in the picture, the eyes would have been brown.  Now for 'was'," Sherlock turned and looked at John.  "That image is the only picture of the infant in the house.  But why?  If you have children, chances are you have more than one picture of them around.  Not the Saorises, though.  No.  They couldn't because that infant died, leaving them childless.  That's why there was only one picture.  As for the girl's name, well, it's obvious, isn't it?  Brayleigh."

"My name?  Was her name?"  Brayleigh asked.

"Oh, yes.  You're essentially the daughter they never had," Sherlock replied,  "When the Moriartys approached the Saorises about kidnapping an infant girl for ransom, they went right for it.  After the ransom was paid, they asked the Moriartys if they could keep the baby, you, and raise her as their own.  The Moriartys obviously didn't have a problem with this as long as they met a couple of conditions, one being that you would never find out and the other being that you would eventually work for them.  As for the password, date of birth or date of death.  Lucky for us, it's a four digit pin." 

Sherlock went to his computer and searched for the infant's dates, typing 'Brayleigh' into the search bar of the local newspaper obituaries and selecting '40 + years' as a time span.  Only one result came up depicting an infant girl.  He decided on the death date and typed it into the laptop.  "All together now.  Password is...," he said as he hit the 'enter' key.  The computer opened to a desktop screen.  "And there you are.  Oh, that reminds me," Sherlock stated, reaching in the inner pocket of his blazer.  "This is yours."  Sherlock handed Brayleigh her phone.

"You took my phone?"  Brayleigh asked confused.

"Oh, yes, and I broke into it, too.  By the way, my birth date is not a very good pass-code."  Sherlock chuckled.  "It amazes me how often people let their hearts rule their heads.  I changed it for you.  Here you go."  Sherlock handed Brayleigh a slip of paper with her new password on it.