Sophia Holmes and the Sign of Three (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Four - The Bloody Guardsman Part IV

The Sergeant grabs hold of dad's right arm and my left arm and twists them behind our backs before marching us downstairs.

The Major's office is empty, but a Private directs the Sergeant towards the shower room and bundles us inside. At the door, John is being held by the Duty Sergeant we spoke to earlier, while an exposed body lies on the floor, still wet from the shower.

"Sir, caught these two snooping around," the Sergeant holding us says.

The Major looks at John. "Is that what this was all about? Distracting me so that those two could get in here and kill Bainbridge?"

John scoffs. "Don't be ..."

Dad pulls free and walks forward to look more closely at the body, but the Sergeant pulls him back again. "Kill him with what?" dad asks. "Where's the weapon?"

"What?"

"Where's the weapon?" dad repeats. "Go on, search us." He holds his arms wide. "No weapon."

"Bainbridge was on parade," John points out. "He came off duty five minutes ago. When's this supposed to have happened?"

"You obviously stabbed him before he got into the shower," the Major says to dad.

I shake my head. "No."

"No?!"

"He's soaking wet and there's still shampoo in his hair," I point out. "He got into the shower and then someone stabbed him."

"The cubicle was locked from the inside, sir," the Duty Sergeant says. "I had to break it open."

"You must have climbed over the top," the Major tries.

"Well then we'd be soaking wet too, wouldn't we?" dad snaps back.

"Major, please," John says loudly. "I'm John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Three years in Afghanistan, a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand, and Bart's bloody Hospital." He becomes more firm. "Let me examine this body."

The Major looks down at the body for a long moment, then finally looks at the Duty Sergeant and nods sharply. The man releases John.

John walks forward, taking off his jacket and placing it on a nearby bench. "Thank you." He crouches down beside Bainbridge and starts to look him over.

"Suicide?" the Duty Sergeant asks us quietly.

"No," dad says. "The weapon again - no knife."

We walk forward to look him over, and the Sergeant lets us go. As John studies the back, we squat down either side of the chest. As dad examines the body, I look at the shower.

There's a lot of blood still towards the back of the cubicle where the shower head can't reach, suggesting - as Bainbridge fell forwards onto his front - that the wound is on his back. Yet, as I look back at the body, I can't see an entry wound, only a lot of blood at his lower back. The wound itself must be tiny. I look back into the shower, but can't see anything sharp. Bainbridge didn't even take a razor with him.

"Hmm," John says, coming to much the same conclusion as me. "There is a wound to the abdomen - incredibly fine."

"Man stabbed to death," dad says, looking at the facts. "No murder weapon. Door locked from the inside. Only one way in or out of here."

John moves up to Bainbridge's head and peels one of his eyes open. "Sherlock."

"Mmm?"

"He's still breathing."

My eyes widen in shock. We've seen so many bodies that now we just assume they're already dead.

"Oh my God," exclaims the Duty Sergeant.

"What do we do?" dad asks, starting to panic.

"Give me your scarf."

"What?"

"Quickly, now." While dad unwraps his scarf from his neck, John looks up at the Major and the others. "Call an ambulance."

"What?"

"Call an ambulance now," he says, raising his voice and pointing to the door, yet the men still hesitate. John's voice goes firmer. "Do it!" Both of the Sergeants turn and hurry from the room, and as dad passes John his scarf. John takes dad's hand and puts it on top of the scarf, positioning his fingers where he wants them. "Nurse, press here - hard."

"'Nurse'?" Dad repeats, wrinkling his nose in distaste and I laugh. 

"Yeah, I'm making do. Keep pressure on that wound." Dad leans closer so he can press harder and John moves back to Bainbridge's head. "Stephen. Stephen, stay with me."

Ten minutes later, the ambulance arrives, and John transfers him over to the paramedics. We watch from the road as they drive out.

"So come on then," John says, as the ambulance disappears amongst the traffic. "Tell me how it happened."

"I ... don't know," dad admits. John raises an eyebrow in surprise, but I shrug my equal ignorance.

"Locked room mystery, though," John says. "They're usually a favourite."

"I must be getting out of practice," dad says, pulling his coat around himself tighter in the absence of his scarf, before starting to walk down the road.