The Unknown Child (A Sherlock FanFiction)

XII: "I need to tell you something."

A/N: Sorry for not updating in ages! I had exams and a hockey competition to go to! It has also been busy at my home with issues amongst the family. I am so sorry and I will try to update more often. I really hope you guys are enjoying this story.

Chapter Twelve: “I need to tell you something.”

I stood there for what seemed like hours, staring at my new name. I couldn’t believe it. He had written his last name as mine. By the character in that man I have seen, this doesn’t match up with it.

“Oh God.” I hear behind me, it was Molly, leaning over my shoulder to see what I had been gazing at for the past few minutes. Molly has stepped back, covering her mouth.

“You okay Molly?” I asked. She clearly wasn’t, but I had to ask.

“I just can’t believe he would do such a thing.” She said.

“Is this out of character for him?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, it’s not a bad thing Clara, I am curious as to why he did it though.” She responded.

From outside the morgue door, I could see Sherlock staring at me, signaling me to come to him.

“Listen Molly, I need to go now, but I will see you this afternoon.” I say, glancing at the clock before I give her a quick hug. “Have a good day.” I add.

I run out of the door and chase after Sherlock, who has already begun walking down the corridor.

“We need to go back to Baker Street.” Sherlock says, once I caught up to him. “But first, we need to stop off at the crime scene again. I think we missed something.” He finished.

“You seem to never miss anything, so why did you this time?” I say.

“I had something else on my mind.” He simply says. I didn’t bother asking what it was, I had a feeling as to what it was anyway. We continue walking down the winding corridors of the hospital to the entry. I see the flashing cameras of the few remaining paparazzi and the microphones of reporters.

“Get ready to run.” He says, grabbing my hand and pulling me after him through the small mob. Once we had made it through them, we began to run through the busy streets of London. The reporters and photographers gave up on chasing us a while ago. Sherlock and I were still running, as if he had some urgency about him. I caught up to him and kept running with him.

Once we had reached the crime scene, the police had already left. The house was bare, no equipment or people to be seen. Sherlock walked up to the door, pulled out a small leather case that held some metal instruments.

“Keep watch Clara.” He said. I realised now what he was doing, he was breaking into the crime scene.

“Sherlock you can’t trespass.” I whispered loudly. “We are gonna get in trouble for this.” I say.