The Disgrace

The Holy Corpse

The following morning, Verity rose from the room with tired eyes. She even stumbled a few times. Verity was surprised, to say the least, to see a short blond man standing over Sherlock, who was sitting at his laptop. "Find any interesting cases, Sherlock?" he inquired.

"There is one," Sherlock said. He commenced to read aloud from the article. "'This morning, two neighbourhood children stumbled upon a troubling and ghastly sight; a woman, bound to a wooden telephone pole, her eyes gouged out. Her eyes were found in her throat, which local police believe may have been the cause of asphyxiation. Our 'Jane Doe' carried no identity. She was found dressed in a local church's nativity angel clothing, complete with a halo. No prints were found at the scene, along with an absence of other evidence. More on this baffling case soon.' That was yesterday."

"Alright, not bad," said the man. "Have you eaten anything yet?" he demanded in a concerning tone.

Sherlock sighed. "That's what I thought," said the man. He turned to the kitchen, but stopped when he saw Verity. "Oh. Hello," he stated. He turned to Sherlock. "So, definitely not gay, then?"

"Hmm," Sherlock said distantly. He appeared to snap back to life and tear his eyes from the article, furrowing his brows. "What? No! John, she's my sister," he said, alarmed.

"Verity Holmes," she stated, offering her hand to John.

"Sorry, I'm John Watson."

"Save the pleasantries for later, John, Lestrade is here," Sherlock interrupted, looking back at them from the window.

"Why?"

"Obvious, really."

"Hate it when he does that," said John.

Verity sighed and followed her brother and his blogger out of the flat and into a taxi that followed the police.

• • • • •

They arrived at the scene about an hour later. Verity was already nervous about the police presence.

As Lestrade filled Sherlock in, Verity could focus on nothing else but staying hidden and unnoticed in her brother's shadow. She heard something about a note that was left for Sherlock.

"Why wasn't I called for sooner? I had to read about this case online!" she heard him scold.

"That's because we just found it," sighed Lestrade, handing him the note. Verity strained to see.

It read:

You told me once
On top of St. Bart's,
That you're on the side of the angels.

Now we will see
What your sister will be,
If truthful are the labels.

"How did you know it to be me?" questioned Sherlock.

"St. Bart's? Really?" John spoke up.

"Why me?" Verity said meekly. They stared at her. "I mean, 'Now we will see what your sister will be, if truthful are the labels'?"

"Because this is Moriarty. He likes to play games. Mess with people. He's come back, and he's after you," Sherlock said.

"But why?" she demanded softly.

"You are my sister. You have a connection to me. That makes you his prey."

Several seconds of silence followed, which felt like hours to those involved.

"Where's the body?" questioned John, breaking the suffocating silence.

"Oh, uh, it's at St. Bart's," answered Lestrade.

As Verity followed Sherlock and John to hail a taxi, a uniformed officer stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "Do you recognize me?" he asked with a slight American accent.

Verity did recognize him. He had arrested her a year ago on a drugs bust at her high school--in front of everyone.

"No," she said, trying to surpass him.

"Really? Does the name Rose Hills High School ring a bell? Oklahoma, 2013?" he persisted annoyingly.

"No," she repeated. Past the officer, Verity caught sight of Sherlock striding her way with an aggravated look, John behind him.

"What are you doing?" He demanded from the officer.

"Why does it concern you, freak?" the officer snarled.

"I see you've been talking to Donovan." Sherlock leaned forward and took a deep breath through his nose. "Ooh, you've done more than speak obviously. You've stayed over, on a whim, no less. That shampoo is not a man's, in fact, neither is your deodorant. Which, I think, just evaporated. The only woman on the force who uses that kind is Miss Sally Donovan. Don't let Anderson find out. Or his wife," he finished, taking Verity protectively by the shoulder.

"That whore!" the officer exclaimed, running off to find Sally.

Sherlock gave a small smile before sternly commanding Verity to follow him and his blogger into an approaching taxi.