Short Stories

Miss Holmes

"She's coming in. Oh, no now she's walking away. Coming back... nope, just pacing. Taking a deep breath. Seems a little young to be so stressed. Oh, here she comes." John left the window to go open the door for their next client.
   Downstairs, the girl was heard talking to Mrs. Hudson.
"That's an interesting name," John observed. Sherlock shrugged, he wasn't really listening. He wasn't sure what to make of this sixteen-year-old.
"Boys, this is-"
"Amelia Edmund Cassidy, nice to finally see you. John Watson, and... wow, you really are shorter in person."
"And what are you here for?" Sherlock still couldn't figure it out.
   This girl, Amelia, with wild curly hair and piercing crystal eyes... who was she?
"Well, Sherlock Holmes, I have come to see my father." Her smile was strange. Father? Who was her father?
   Amelia rolled her eyes, seeming disappointed that she'd have to explain herself to the world-famous detective.
"You."
   Sherlock ignored John's face. He blinked several times. Amelia simply bowed in front of him, looking up with a sarcastic glint in her eyes.
   Cassidy Cassidy Cassidy Cassidy... He couldn't put his finger on it.
"My mother's name was... also Amelia. Sherlock Holmes, have you lost your touch?"
"W-was? Was, what does that mean? She's dead?" John asked.
   Sherlock's arms dropped to his sides limply.
"Well, I should think so," Amelia said with a slight chuckle.
   No, this was impossible. Sherlock couldn't have a daughter. He certainly should never even think of doing such a terrifying thing.
"You're not my daughter, there's no way, it doesn't make sense."
"Sherlock Holmes, when you were twenty two years old, you used my mum for a case. And then you solved the case and you left her. However within those sixty eight hours you and my mother went to a photo booth. When I was seven years old I found the pictures from that night in my mum's drawer. And the next day your face was on the front page of the newspaper and mum was sobbing in the other room. So don't tell me there's no way, because that's the only way. And it only took me eight years and two major deaths to get the courage to come here. So don't you be afraid of me now."
   Her intensity was startling.

"How do you know I'm afraid of you?" This was one of three times Sherlock couldn't think straight.
"Well, it's no fun if I tell you."
"You can't impress people if you don't give them an overcomplicated explanation," he replies.
"Sherlock Holmes," she sighed, "It's much less obnoxious when you don't explain yourself at all. They still think you're brilliant, except they also want to be your friend."
"But it's so tiring-"
"-to do it your way, I know." She interrupted a lot, didn't she? "I know all about you, Sherlock Hol-"
"Just! Call me Sherlock. It's less annoying."
They watched each other, analyzing and deducing. John couldn't stand it.
"Why don't we sit down?" He said, gesturing to the sofa.
And so they went: Sherlock on the sofa, John and Amelia in the two chairs that were pulled up.
"So tell me, Sherlock, do you enjoy being the dumber, poorer sibling? That must be very tiring."
   They didn't break eye contact for over ten minutes. Not even when Sherlock asked John to go make tea. Not even when Amelia's big crazy curls fell onto her face.
"It's... guys, the tea is going to get cold." John sat awkwardly in his chair.
   Sherlock ended up blinking first. He ignored John once again when offered the now lukewarm drink. 
   Amelia stood with her arms crossed.
"You two have been having sex for at least a month, why aren't you sitting next to each other? Why are you so afraid, Sherlock? Constantly afraid..." She trailed off as she looked around at the apartment.
   Sherlock cleared his throat as he stood up.
"A scull?" Amelia picked it up carefully.
   Sherlock slammed the bathroom door behind him and Amelia bit her lip. She was scared too, of course, but she was obviously better at hiding it.
"Would you mind if I..." John slowly got up from his chair.
"Yeah, go on."
   She kept her eyes on the human scull. A real human scull, how fascinating. Not like there are billions of others. Instead of smashing it on the ground, she placed it gingerly in its previous spot.

"Are you okay?" John reached out his hand but Sherlock began pacing as much as one can in such a small space.
"No. John. Of course I'm not okay. That girl is fifteen and she's my daughter and I don't remember the mother. At all." He pulled at his curls.
"You think maybe you-"
"I deleted her. I must have- how could I have done that? Oh my god..."
"Stop pacing. Stop. Stop!" John grabbed his shoulders. "It's alright. You're going to be fine. This is great, really. I've always wanted to have.. well, I've always wanted us to-"
"I don't want kids, John. I don't want her here."
"Well-but, she is." He traced Sherlock's cheekbones.
"Shit!" Amelia shouted. John went to see what she'd broken to discover there was no one there.
"Amelia?" He called out.
"She said she was late to catch an airplane."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson!"
"She was lying."
"Of course she was lying. Oh, Sherlock you look terrible."
"You're one to talk."
   Sherlock smiled. And though it was forced, it was something.

The night was quiet, except for Sherlock's violin playing and the fact that he had a daughter out roaming the streets in the back of everyone's heads.
And then the doorbell rang.
"Hello, Mrs. Hudson, it's nice to see you again."
"Oh, hello, dear. They're upstairs."
Sherlock had stopped playing. Both him and John stared at the door, quite anxious.
And the door did open. And someone entered the room. But she was different from before. For one, her hair was confined in a halfhearted bun. Her eyes were less green.
"Are you okay?" John asked softly.
If she was his daughter, Sherlock expected she wouldn't tell anyone her feelings-
"I only really came here so I could find something nice to say about my mother at her funeral. Then I forgot about the funeral. I made it in time, though I'm not exactly wearing black-" She was wearing a white jumper- "but I said something nice. I think. I don't know a lot of people started crying when I was done so..."
John went to give her a hug, but she jerked back.
"No, no, it's... oh, screw it."
It was a long hug. Amelia was a little taller than him, so she bent over to put her head on his shoulder, much like Sherlock does.
"Amelia, you do know you're not indestructible," Sherlock said. He was never really sure what to say to make people happy.
"I, um, I go by Eddie, actually." She broke out of the hug to wipe at her face. John had his hand on her back and she didn't pull away.
   This seemed strange to Sherlock, who had just begun warming up to the concept of cuddling after thirty-five years of being called names like Freak and Robot and barely hearing the words "I love you."
   Maybe she was his daughter. After all, Holmeses are never predictable.

"She was a really nice lady," Eddie said quietly as they sat in Speedy's, the cafe downstairs.
"Yes, she was," Sherlock responded with his eyebrows pushed together.
"Shut up. You don't even remember her."
He quickly looked down at his folded hands. It didn't matter what he said or how hard he was trying, she was right.
"Alright, come on, let's go. It's getting late," John said after a minute of silence.
Sherlock made a beeline for his violin. John knew he'd be there a while and sighed as he sat down in his chair to converse with Eddie.
"So... do you-"
"Eddie, I'm sorry. For you. And your mother, and I'm so sorry I can't remember her," Sherlock interrupted. John coughed.
"It's... I understand, Sherlock. I do, thank you for apologizing." Eddie pushed her curls behind her ears.
"Would you..." Sherlock put his violin down. "Would you maybe like to help me with a case sometime?"
John smiled at him. Sherlock had finally said something right. Eddie nodded.
"Yeah, that'd be great, Sherlock."

a couple weeks later

"All good, Miss Holmes?" A teacher called out to Eddie, who was sitting on the school steps. Eddie turned around and smiled.
"Yeah, my dad's coming soon," she replied, looking down at the text she'd just received.

Sorry, running late. Case.
SH

And it was all very good.