Childhood Heroes {Sherlock Fanfiction}

Statement of the Problem

Fifteen-year-old girl's POV

The post winter breeze of April blew by, making the busy people of Central London clung on their clothes and blew on the gloved hands to keep their selves warm. The sun hiding behind the clouds was not helping. Shoes crunching on the half melted snow on the pavements as everyone went to their businesses.

As for myself, I was on my way to Baker Street. Walking two miles to seek some advice to the world's only consulting detective and his partner that writes their adventures in his blog.

A cloud of air escaped my lips as I met the door of 221B. After pressing the doorbell, an old lady with a kind face opens the door. Must be Mrs. Hudson from the blog.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"Yes." I nodded. "Is Mr. Sherlock Holmes in?"

"He's upstairs, dear. Come in. You must be a client." She closed the door behind me. "Follow me."

Seventeen steps up and we reached their flat. The door was slightly ajar, Mrs. Hudson proceeded to open it wider. In front of us was a rather very messy room, papers every corner, laptops on the floor, trinkets and stuff covered the whole coffee table and desk.

Sherlock Holmes in a dress robe, rummaging through the papers, searching. In the middle of a case. 

"Sherlock, you have a client," Mrs. Hudson informed.

"Yes, I heard the doorbell." He grumbled, switching to another pile of papers.

"What are you looking for, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"The filed complaint of Mr. Charpentier about the unnecessary investigation for Ron Jance's forgery of a report." Sherlock said in an incredibly fast manner.

"You mean this one pinned on the wall?" I pointed at the paper on the wall, pinned beside other documents.

Sherlock stopped and briskly walked to the one I pointed. He unpinned it and smiled.

"Yes, exactly this one... wait, have we met before?"

A smiles crossed my lips as he recalled me. "Yes. Nice to meet you again, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." I let out my hand but he didn't shake it, instead he walks away with the document in his hand. It was urgent and important.

Dr. Watson's presence missing in the flat. The smell of newly brewed tea tells me he's somewhere still here. Then there were footsteps.

"Good morning." He greeted then sipped his cup of tea. The same warm silvery voice he has after all these years.

Not a morning person. Slept late last night. Doesn't put sugar in his coffee. Cannot tolerate how Sherlock has made a mess in the flat... again.

"Dr. Watson, it's been years." We shook hands. Psychosomatic limp. Left arm has been shot.

"Do I know you?"

"It's me, Lil-"

"Lillian! Yes, Lillian! I remember you." Sherlock announced, slightly startling the other three of us in the room.

I turned back to Dr. Watson. "Nine years ago, you gave me my ball back and helped go back home."

"Oh yes!" Dr. Watson's face lights up. "That's you? Look how much you've grown!" He chuckled. He's really glad to see me again, I am too. I missed him a lot.

"Well, looks like everyone knows everyone. I'm Mrs. Hudson by the way deary, their landlady and if you need anything I'll just be downstairs." She turns to Dr. Watson. "I'll leave her to you now."

Mrs. Hudson left the room and closed the door. 

"What brings you here?" Dr. Watson asked.

"Not for a reunion, sadly, but I am need your help." I stated, sitting on the chair at the middle of the room. Dr. Watson headed to his chair and grabbed his notepad and pen. Supposed to be used before but Sherlock solved the case already. 

"Is it alright to disturb you Mr. Holmes during an ongoing case?" I questioned.

"Depends on the narration you're about to tell," he answered.

And so I began recounting the events that led no choice but to consult the consulting detective and his blogger.

"April 16, Wednesday, like any other day, I ran back home immediately after school. I was surprised to see my dog outside of our house and the front door wide open. I knew something was very wrong. I headed inside and saw no one in, even my Mum who was supposed to be home. My father should be home 7:30 in the evening so I waited for him yet he did not show up.

"Mum works as a private chef to a man named Mr. Armstrong. Dad works for the Overton Company. Now Mom doesn't do sudden-disappearance acts, she leaves notes. And I did saw one, except it's not her nor my father's handwriting."

I showed them the note.

code amo en extractie operation done

"Woman's hand, soft touch gel pen -- the one that only rich people can buy -- and the person's left-handed. And then there's the paper, ordinary copier paper. No dirt, no scent, no fingerprints, no any hidden messages under blue light. Found it on the dining table."

"Have you tried calling them?" Dr. Watson asked.

"Yes, turns out they left all their belongings in the house. I also called their employers the next day and they told me, they never had a person with that name work there. Which is weird because Mr. Armstrong called on Sunday and Dad emailed the company on Tuesday.

"I then called their colleagues, which also said they don't know my parents. The next morning, I asked our neighbors about my parents and they said that they were surprised someone was actually living in our house. We have lived there for six years and we interacted with the neighbors many times. I showed them pictures but it was just hopeless.

"It's like our family never existed at all in the outside world, only inside of our home." 

By now, Sherlock has sat on his leather chair as well and remarked, "Intriguing."

Dr. Watson raised his eyebrows at him.

Sherlock, with his finger tips attached and eyeing me, leaned forward. "That's not only thing you discovered after they were gone."

"No." A small smile escaped my lips which I immediately removed. "I found a stash of firearms, knives, a grenade and illegally used technology in their bedroom, under the sink, behind the bookshelf and in the basement."

Dr. Watson blinked many times as his gaze fell on me. "Wh-what now?" He asked.

"That's why you couldn't ask for help on the police," Sherlock stated.

"And I also want to consult my favourite Consulting Detective," I added.

"Favourite? But I'm the only one..."

"Exactly." I smiled.

"Well," I sighed, "that's my case. Missing people, left nothing but a some sort of foreign note, took nothing. The only thing now we're all waiting is whether you take my case or not."

There was a few moments of silence as Sherlock weighed the answer in his head, calculating the options, to say yes or no. He leaned back back and huffed.

"I'll think about it, after this forgery case." Sherlock went back again to the papers on his desk.

"Thank you for your kind consideration." I stood up and headed for the door. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson. I'll come by tomorrow to check on it."

I left their flat without another word. Upon exiting, I felt Sherlock's eyes were on me as I walked down further the street.