Learning to Love Another (Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction)

Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes stared across the room and at a girl, who was almost buried beneath a mountain of blankets; the story she’d told him seemed completely made up, fictitious and idiotic but Sherlock could tell that every word that had come out of her mouth had been nothing but the truth and as he surveyed her, carefully reading everything he could, came to realise that, even though this wasn’t the case he’d been expecting, it was just the thing he needed.

It had been an infuriating few weeks for Sherlock Holmes; things had been quiet around London and no crimes or weird happenings had needed him to be solved. Even Lestrade hadn’t needed him, as useless as he is when it comes to solving police crimes and, with John accepting more hours at the clinic, he’d been going almost out of his mind with boredom.

The girl, beneath the blankets, had claimed that the baby she’d brought with her was his; she’d told him that nine months or so ago they’d gotten drunk, slept together and then parted ways. The idea of him having sexual relations with someone was preposterous but even he couldn’t deny the memory of waking up beside her, around the time she’d mentioned, and having no memory of the night before.

It was hard to admit but this was a case that didn’t really need solving; unless he requested a DNA test and it turned out to be false.

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but the girl jumped in before him. “I’m sorry, Mr Holmes, I wouldn’t bother you at all but I’m not going to be around for much longer and I have no one else to take care of her when I’m gone.”

“Gone?” He frowned “Where are you going?”

“To a place where most people can’t follow” she replied. “I’m going to die, Mr Holmes, soon; too soon for my liking but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Of course Sherlock had already deduced that she has terminal cancer and the most time she had left was barely more than a couple of weeks; her body had already begun to shut down, her immune system was obviously not working and her body wasn’t creating any warmth. She was skin and bone, ready to fall at not even a moment’s notice.

“That’s why I was out clubbing” she admitted “I’d received the news and was determined to have a good time before the inevitable happened; I’d given up all hopes of having children when I was first diagnosed so when I found out that I was pregnant-” the girl paused, biting her lower lip “I couldn’t let them kill her; it would have been my biggest regret. They gave me pills to help but warned me that her chance of survival was even less than mine if I hung on long enough to give birth.”

“So a termination was out of the question” Sherlock stated “but what would have happened if you’d died during the birth?”

“I’m going to die anyway” she claimed “at least she would have a chance; Sherlock, Joan is my legacy.” The dying girl glanced affectionately down at the pink Moses basket which was sitting beside the chair.

Sherlock frowned “Joan, who is Joan?” Also glancing at the basket but, as the hood was up, could not see inside it.

“My baby, I named her after myself.”

“Well that’s going to change” he told her. “No child of mine, if she is mine, will most certainly not be called Joan; there should be a law against it!”

“All I need to know, Mr Holmes, is that you’ll take care of her when I’m gone.”

Sherlock stared at Joan and, knowing that she wouldn’t leave until he’d given her his word, said “if, and I mean if, the child is mine I will ensure that she will be taken care of.”