A Study In Holmes(A Sheryll Holmes Novel)

XOXO, Your Moriarty

My moriarty stalked around me in a slow, deliberate dance.
"You know, Holmes, there was once where I thought you would.... help. I need you. Just as much as you need me."
"Go to hell, Moriarty." She stalked closer. "Bye bye, Sheryll."
                                   •••
The soft, rustling sound of a tissue being pressed to my face alarmed me. I opened my eyes. My roommate had his back to me, drawing wet tissues from a box.

"You know, I told you so many times not to go into that pub? You always end up in fights."
I sit up, alarmed. "Watson, what time is it?"

Hamish William Scott Watson turns. "230. You've been out the whole night, Sher."
"Oh my god, Watson. Why didn't you wake me?" I run a hand through my wavy, jet black hair.

"Get my phone." I steel my nerves. Closing my eyes, I rest my chin on the tips of my fingers. My mind slips into a state of sub-consciousness. My Father frequently calls it a Mind Palace. From a far, I hear Watson sigh as he presses my phone into my waiting hand. I open my eyes and send a quick text.

SORRY FOR THE DELAY. I'LL BE THERE.
SH

•••

My Father was waiting. Of course he was. He was looking out the window, eyes fixed on the road, violin in hand, absentmindedly picking away at the strings. I climbed up the steps and walked into the flat. He still hadn't moved from the window.

"Sorry again, Father. I was busy-"

"Fell asleep. There's a scar on your forehead and a bit of dried blood, the work of a man. The smell of alcohol is on your breath- You were at a pub. You got into a fight, drank, knocked yourself unconscious, Hamish picked you up and you woke up just a few minutes ago. How many cigarettes did you smoke, Sheryll? Sherlock Holmes may be retired but your Father isn't."
I laughed. "There really is no tricking the great Sherlock Holmes, is there?"

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "No. No there isn't."
"How did you know Hamish picked me up?"

My Father sipped from his teacup. "You have no other friends, who else could have picked you up? After all, you make all the girls in your school jealous, and the boys head over heels just just because you're different. And when you reject them-"

I grinned. "Instant hate."
"Precisely."

We stayed in silence for a while, sipping tea. The Great Sherlock Holmes hadn't changed much. His hair was still messy and black, his eyes still bright and alert. The only difference was the pain in his demeanor, the loss of his best friend. My father's fingers were twitching, his eyes closed, his head cocking from side to side. This was all normal, besides his shallow breathing. "Are you alright?" My Father was rarely troubled.

The great Sherlock Holmes opened his golden eyes and breathed heavily. "No. I received a letter today. I wanted to tell you, just before you left." He pulled an envelope from his coat. "Take a look. It was addressed... to you."

I took my letter with trembling hands. Cursive letters, left handed. Female. Absolutely no fingerprints. Seal, broken.

It's the seal with the bird on it. It's the Moriarty seal. The Reichenbach Fall.

Hello darling,
                  It's your Moriarty.
How are you, sweetheart? I'm sooo sorry for not contacting you sooner, but your father was keeping you on a low profile for 21 looooong years! But oh, sweetie, I've got you now. After all, every fairy tale needs a Good Ol' fashioned villain! Keep in touch ♥️ XOXO

Stay Alive,
                   Your Moriarty

I looked up. "W-what?"
"You've got a Moriarty on your tail, Sheryll Holmes."
                                     •••