An Agent of Chaos (BBC Sherlock Fan Fiction)

1. Shifts

1. Shifts

            This was perhaps the worst time of year to visit my dad. It was the middle of summer, and no matter where you lived, it was freaking hot as hell. You went outside and immediately you hit a wall of humidity. Your day instantly turns to crap.

            I braved the weather to visit my dad, today was his birthday after all. Sometimes I hated that his birthday was in August, but I couldn’t control it. The weather here in New Jersey was disgusting.

            Even though I’d been visiting Dad for four years now, every time I came felt as though it was the first time I was visiting him since the burial. I could never stop myself from crying in front of the gravestone, missing him so much that I wouldn’t leave the cemetery for hours.

            It nearly broke me when I’d learned my dad was dead. He hadn’t died of natural causes; he had been pretty spry for his age. He’d been murdered in his apartment. How was I the first to know this? My sister was the one who came to the murder scene. She’d sounded so strong when telling me the news; I knew she’d been breaking down on the inside.

            “Happy birthday, Dad,” I whispered to the headstone before me. I sniffled, already feeling the sweat pool on my skin. “I wish I was visiting in better weather, but I didn’t want to stay in on your birthday, though I’m sure you would have understood if I had. I-I miss you, so much. I hope you and Mom are enjoying yourselves. Tell her I said ‘hi’, will you? I hope Spencer comes today if she hasn’t already.”

            I stole a glance at my mother’s grave marker lying right next to Dad’s. They’d plotted it out this way years ago, when Spencer and I were little. I knew none of us expected them to be in them so soon.

            With a trembling figure, I turned my back on my parents’ graves and headed for the idle car on the path in the cemetery. I appreciated him doing this for me. He didn’t have to, but he knew how I was after I visited the cemetery. He knew how I was never myself again until a few days after the visit. He knew me so well it was almost scary.

            I slipped into the passenger seat, getting blasted with refreshing air once I slammed the door shut. I took in a deep breath, my hands clutching my knees. Even as the years went by, this didn’t get any easier.

            A cool hand reached across to grab one of mine. I picked my green eyes up to look at Dean, who was smiling timidly at me. I couldn’t help but try and reproduce the smile.

            “That was short,” he noted.

            “I didn’t have much to say.” I shrugged. “He’s not much of a conversation starter.”

            “I know it’s not easy for you.”

            “It will never get easy.” I held back tears. “I just wish the police hadn’t given up on his case.” For at least two years, the police tried to solve my dad’s murder. They came up empty, which really angered me. They’d let the case go, but I hadn’t. I never could, knowing that Dad’s murderer was out there, somewhere.

            I knew Dad had enemies, but there was a long list of unknown names I knew I could never track down. His enemies were sporadically placed around the United States and in other countries. That’s what happened when you’re in a shady business, getting your hands dirty with other people like that.   

            “Maybe they’ll get lucky,” Dean said, trying to be hopeful. “Maybe they’ll reopen it.”

            “Yeah, when I’m, like, seventy or something.” I blew out an irritated breath.