The next few days are filled with Sherlock and Mickey violin duets, me occupying the baby while its parents got in some sleep and bonding time, and tea time with Mrs. Hudson and her wild stories.
Now it's midday Wednesday, and I mix my violin noises with Sherlock's. His phone rings - to both of our dismay - and he sets down his violin to answer.
"Lestrade, what a pleasant surprise," Sherlock answers sarcastically. He sends a wink and a smirk towards me as he listens. I work on putting my violin away while he talks on the phone.
When I close up the violin case, I hear a beep noise as Sherlock hangs up the phone.
"New case?" I ask excitedly as I spin around to face Sherlock.
"Same case," he corrects me. "There's something new with the whole Sneaky Shooter deal. Lestrade sent a car to take us there."
"Wonderful," I exclaim with a grin. Sherlock gets his coat from the coat rack and tells me to wait downstairs while he writes a note to leave for John and Mary. I nod and go to the bottom of the stairs. My new dark green, wool coat hangs over one of the coat rack hooks, and I put it on. When Sherlock gets to the bottom of the stairs, I file in line behind him and out the door. He shuts and locks it behind me. A solid bearded man holds open the door to a silver car in front of the flat. Sherlock and I slide in the back seats.
The driver takes us to 152 Grover Lane, the home of our beloved Sneaky Shooter. Cop cars and caution tape surrounds the scene. Everyone gets out of the car, and I strut behind Sherlock into the therapist's house. Could Gerald really have killed someone in his own house?
Sherlock nods a polite "hello" to Lestrade, who nods back. The detective fails to notice me; the consulting detective seems to have no issue with that.
Lestrade hovers over a dead Doctor Gerald. "We think it's a suicide," he says. The two colleagues stare down at the dead body. Sherlock doesn't give the second hand time to tick after Lestrade finishes his sentence, and he begins talking.
"It was a suicide, but I believe he tried - and failed - to make it look like a murder. You can tell because the weapon is by the window, so he must have bled out. I don't know if he wanted to make it look like the Shooter did it or what, but it isn't like we can ask. The guilt must have been eating at him," Sherlock finishes with slight disgust, like he couldn't believe someone would let emotions get to them.
"He did seem a little unstable," I include from beside Sherlock. The two look over at me, Lestrade for the first time today. "In our session, that is. And an indentation on his upper arm implied he had been doing something requiring a turniquet. But I don't know if it was that day, or-"
"Wait," Lestrade interrupts, frowning at me. "What do you mean 'session'? You were here before now?"
I nod to him before I explain, "I posed as Sherlock's alcoholic niece so we could get closer to the suspect."
"Sherlock," Lestrade starts sternly, turning on him, "how could you put a kid - that isn't even yours - in a dangerous situation like that? You should have just come straight to us."
"That's not as fun," Sherlock says. "But I'm glad to see you've admitted to yourself she's a child."
Lestrade opens his mouth to respond, but I speak up before he can. "I'm not a child," I say, in a more childish tone than I had hoped for.
"Are we done here?" Sherlock asks Lestrade, completely ignoring me. He just nods, and Sherlock stalks from the room, out the front door. I follow quickly behind him
YOU ARE READING
Orphan on Baker Street
FanfictionMickey is an orphan who plays her violin on the street to earn money. When she hears gunshots, she chases an odd pair towards the sound. She later finds out that this was the perfect way to escape the orphanage - and enter a life of crime solving.
