Fic: The Red-Headed Murder League (Chapter 2)
Title: The Red-Headed Murder League
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, OC (more to be added)
Warnings: Spoilers for "The Great Game"
Summary: Following their showdown with Moriarty, Sherlock and John are thrust into a new case, involving the murders of seemingly random people. The only connection: they all have red hair, a trait worries Sherlock...
Author's Notes: This is one of my favorite chapters so far, mostly because of the interaction between Evie and Sherlock =D
“How many patches is he wearing?” John asked as Evie wheeled him into the room. Sherlock hadn’t seemed to have noticed their presence yet, so it was a fair question.
“None,” Evie replied. “Haven’t had the chance to sneak any in.” The tone of her voice told him that she was deliberately not having the chance.
“That’s not it at all, my dear niece,” Sherlock said, turning his head towards them. “You’re just taking it upon yourself to personally ensure my welfare.”
“I love you too, Uncle.” Evie stopped John next to the bed. “Someone has to do it, Uncle Mycroft won’t lift a finger unless you’re messing with national security… did I tell you he’s offered me one thousand pounds to spy on you and the good doctor for the next few days?”
“No, you didn’t tell me that.”
“Me either,” added John.
“Did you take it?” asked Sherlock.
“Of course,” Evie replied. “I need a new laptop. Give me something interesting to tell him and I’ll split it with you.” Any doubts John may have had about Evie and Sherlock being related vanished right then and there.
“John, are you alright?” John looked at his friend, really looked at him. It had only been a day or two since they’d last seen each other, but to John it felt like ages.
“Fine,” John replied. “Few bumps and bruises… what the hell happened to you?” Evie pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards, her arms crossed on the chair back.
“Oh you’re going to love this, Doctor,” she said, chuckling slightly. “Captain Courageous here somehow managed to get out of the explosion unscathed, only to hurt his ankle running after the bad guys.”
“Yes, thank you, Evie, that’s quite enough,” Sherlock said quickly, narrowing his eyes slightly. Evie leaned forward on the chair a little bit, grinning wickedly.
“You don’t want me to tell him the specifics of how you hurt your ankle? Or about the drag queens that broke your fall when it happened?”
“Drag queens?” John asked. Sherlock shot a glare at John before turning his attention back to his niece.
“Evie, isn’t it time for you to go bug your Uncle Mycroft about something? Get him to make you your own TARDIS, or whatever that thing’s called?” Evie shrugged her shoulders
“He’s running into the same problem as the Doctor; who knew a functioning chameleon circuit was so hard to come by?” She got up from her chair, walked over to Sherlock’s side and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve got my cell, call me if you need anything? Besides nicotine patches, I’ll never make it up here with them.”
“Bah,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. “I thought you said you loved me.”
“I do! Enough to go borrow your oven at Baker street and make you biscuits.” Evie winked at John before walking out the door. There was silence for a moment, both men staring out after her. The moment turned into almost ten minutes, neither man knowing what to say to the other about the ordeal they had somehow survived.
“So,” John said finally, handing Sherlock the cup of coffee Evie had picked up for him. “All the compassion and humor from the Holmes family went into her, didn’t it?”
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Another pause. “She was completely lying just then…”
“About the drag queens?”
“Yes.”
“What did happen then?”
“You remember there were two shots, do you not?”
“Yes, I was wondering about that… I wouldn’t think you missed…”
“Oh I missed,” Sherlock said plainly. “On purpose, to give you and I time to get a little bit further from the bomb.”
“Why would that matter? There were enough explosives there to take down the whole building…”
“Was there?”
“…wasn’t there?”
“He would have liked us to think that. Why have all those guns on us if the bomb was deadly? No, that bomb was barely powerful enough to make a noise and take out part of the ceiling.” John nodded.
“And of course Moriarty wouldn’t want to blow himself up…” He thought for a moment. “But it would have been deadly if I were still wearing it.”
“Of course. Why do you think I took it off so quickly?”
“My charm and boyish good looks?” Sherlock stared at him for a moment before the pair burst into giggles. Once again, John felt as though everything was going to be alright.
“After I fired the first shot,” Sherlock continued, “I… tackled you to move you a bit further away from the device.”
“Yes,” John replied, “that explains the concussion that landed me here.”
“Obviously I didn’t mean to hit you that hard…”
“That’s going to end up on YouTube somehow, I’m sure.”
“What is?”
“You, tackling me in a darkened pool.” The giggling started again. “What happened next?”
“I fired the second shot that set off the bomb. You were out after the explosion; Moriarty was gone, as were his snipers. I could hear the police sirens already, so I went after him. Unfortunately, it had started to rain while we were inside and I didn’t realize it until I went sliding down a flight of stairs. I’m told the ankle is merely sprained, but…” John began to grin.
“But some of Lestrade’s men wanted to take pictures again?” Before Sherlock could answer, they heard a phone ring. “Not mine, it’s back in my room.” Sherlock reached to the bedside table and picked up his phone, reading the text on the screen.
“Dear lord, she was serious…”
“Who?”
“Evie; she wants to know why there’s a hand in the oven and whether or not she can take it out to bake biscuits.”
“Ah… why is there a hand in the oven?”
“Seeing if it’s possible to burn the surface without cooking the inside.”
“A case, I’m assuming?”
“Personal curiosity.” The phone sounded again; another text. “She wants to know if you want anything from the grocery store. We apparently have nothing in the house.”
“You didn’t go get milk, then?”
“Forgot; I did have to go save you from a criminal mastermind, after all.”
“Tell her milk and beans then.” He waited until Sherlock had sent the text before saying anything more. “She’s different, isn’t she?”
“Compared to myself and Mycroft, you mean?”
“Well, yeah,” John admitted. “She’s very… animated. About normal things, I mean. She’s not jumping up and down about a serial killer.”
“Just wait until the next one pops up,” Sherlock warned him. “I assume she told you she’s the daughter of my eldest brother.”
“Yes, Sherringford… You’ve not mentioned him, you or Mycroft.”
“There’s not much to mention anymore, I’m afraid… Sherringford passed away over Christmas, heart attack.”
“I’m sorry… Evie lives with her mother, then?”
“Evie lives alone.” John’s eyes widened.
“Alone? She’s just a kid, isn’t she?”
“Thirteen. She lives at a boarding school right now, Mycroft and I haven’t discussed where she’ll be staying after this semester…” Sherlock’s eyes widened a bit. “Makes me wonder what she’s doing here… her school is a good three hours away, it’s not break yet…”
“Worried about you?”
“No, she wouldn’t leave school over this…” John was about to take the discussion further when a nurse walked into the room. After apologizing profusely to Sherlock for unnecessarily having his leg in traction, he informed the two men that they were free to go at any time. He also slipped John his number on the way out; much to John’s dismay, Sherlock teased him about it all the way back to Baker Street.
“You’re just jealous that they don’t hit on you,” John replied as they hug their coats in the hallway. “All you ever get is that poor girl, Molly.” He stopped for a moment, thinking. “How is she going to take it, her beloved boyfriend is a psychopath…”
“She’ll be alright,” Sherlock replied. “It’s not like he loved her back…”
“You never know… in everything evil, there’s a small something good. Maybe Molly was that small something.” Sherlock was about to reply when hurried footsteps caught his attention, drawing his eyes to the stairs; Mrs. Hudson was running down them. “Careful, Mrs. Hudson!”
“Oh Doctor Watson,” she said, worry in her voice. “I’m so glad you’re here…”
“Why, what’s happened?” asked John.
“There’s a woman upstairs, she’s hurt badly… I helped her up to your sofa… Her pretty red hair, all messy and covered in blood…” Sherlock looked at her, eyes wide.
“What color did you say her hair was?”
“It was red… lovely color too, I’d love to know who did it for her…”
“It’s natural.” Sherlock didn’t say another word as he pushed past Mrs. Hudson and ran up the stairs while John made sure the older woman didn’t hurt herself before following him up. He was standing in the doorway when John caught up with him, staring into the sitting room; lying on the sofa-eyes closed, clothes torn and covered in blood-was Evie.
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, OC (more to be added)
Warnings: Spoilers for "The Great Game"
Summary: Following their showdown with Moriarty, Sherlock and John are thrust into a new case, involving the murders of seemingly random people. The only connection: they all have red hair, a trait worries Sherlock...
Author's Notes: This is one of my favorite chapters so far, mostly because of the interaction between Evie and Sherlock =D
“How many patches is he wearing?” John asked as Evie wheeled him into the room. Sherlock hadn’t seemed to have noticed their presence yet, so it was a fair question.
“None,” Evie replied. “Haven’t had the chance to sneak any in.” The tone of her voice told him that she was deliberately not having the chance.
“That’s not it at all, my dear niece,” Sherlock said, turning his head towards them. “You’re just taking it upon yourself to personally ensure my welfare.”
“I love you too, Uncle.” Evie stopped John next to the bed. “Someone has to do it, Uncle Mycroft won’t lift a finger unless you’re messing with national security… did I tell you he’s offered me one thousand pounds to spy on you and the good doctor for the next few days?”
“No, you didn’t tell me that.”
“Me either,” added John.
“Did you take it?” asked Sherlock.
“Of course,” Evie replied. “I need a new laptop. Give me something interesting to tell him and I’ll split it with you.” Any doubts John may have had about Evie and Sherlock being related vanished right then and there.
“John, are you alright?” John looked at his friend, really looked at him. It had only been a day or two since they’d last seen each other, but to John it felt like ages.
“Fine,” John replied. “Few bumps and bruises… what the hell happened to you?” Evie pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards, her arms crossed on the chair back.
“Oh you’re going to love this, Doctor,” she said, chuckling slightly. “Captain Courageous here somehow managed to get out of the explosion unscathed, only to hurt his ankle running after the bad guys.”
“Yes, thank you, Evie, that’s quite enough,” Sherlock said quickly, narrowing his eyes slightly. Evie leaned forward on the chair a little bit, grinning wickedly.
“You don’t want me to tell him the specifics of how you hurt your ankle? Or about the drag queens that broke your fall when it happened?”
“Drag queens?” John asked. Sherlock shot a glare at John before turning his attention back to his niece.
“Evie, isn’t it time for you to go bug your Uncle Mycroft about something? Get him to make you your own TARDIS, or whatever that thing’s called?” Evie shrugged her shoulders
“He’s running into the same problem as the Doctor; who knew a functioning chameleon circuit was so hard to come by?” She got up from her chair, walked over to Sherlock’s side and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve got my cell, call me if you need anything? Besides nicotine patches, I’ll never make it up here with them.”
“Bah,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. “I thought you said you loved me.”
“I do! Enough to go borrow your oven at Baker street and make you biscuits.” Evie winked at John before walking out the door. There was silence for a moment, both men staring out after her. The moment turned into almost ten minutes, neither man knowing what to say to the other about the ordeal they had somehow survived.
“So,” John said finally, handing Sherlock the cup of coffee Evie had picked up for him. “All the compassion and humor from the Holmes family went into her, didn’t it?”
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Another pause. “She was completely lying just then…”
“About the drag queens?”
“Yes.”
“What did happen then?”
“You remember there were two shots, do you not?”
“Yes, I was wondering about that… I wouldn’t think you missed…”
“Oh I missed,” Sherlock said plainly. “On purpose, to give you and I time to get a little bit further from the bomb.”
“Why would that matter? There were enough explosives there to take down the whole building…”
“Was there?”
“…wasn’t there?”
“He would have liked us to think that. Why have all those guns on us if the bomb was deadly? No, that bomb was barely powerful enough to make a noise and take out part of the ceiling.” John nodded.
“And of course Moriarty wouldn’t want to blow himself up…” He thought for a moment. “But it would have been deadly if I were still wearing it.”
“Of course. Why do you think I took it off so quickly?”
“My charm and boyish good looks?” Sherlock stared at him for a moment before the pair burst into giggles. Once again, John felt as though everything was going to be alright.
“After I fired the first shot,” Sherlock continued, “I… tackled you to move you a bit further away from the device.”
“Yes,” John replied, “that explains the concussion that landed me here.”
“Obviously I didn’t mean to hit you that hard…”
“That’s going to end up on YouTube somehow, I’m sure.”
“What is?”
“You, tackling me in a darkened pool.” The giggling started again. “What happened next?”
“I fired the second shot that set off the bomb. You were out after the explosion; Moriarty was gone, as were his snipers. I could hear the police sirens already, so I went after him. Unfortunately, it had started to rain while we were inside and I didn’t realize it until I went sliding down a flight of stairs. I’m told the ankle is merely sprained, but…” John began to grin.
“But some of Lestrade’s men wanted to take pictures again?” Before Sherlock could answer, they heard a phone ring. “Not mine, it’s back in my room.” Sherlock reached to the bedside table and picked up his phone, reading the text on the screen.
“Dear lord, she was serious…”
“Who?”
“Evie; she wants to know why there’s a hand in the oven and whether or not she can take it out to bake biscuits.”
“Ah… why is there a hand in the oven?”
“Seeing if it’s possible to burn the surface without cooking the inside.”
“A case, I’m assuming?”
“Personal curiosity.” The phone sounded again; another text. “She wants to know if you want anything from the grocery store. We apparently have nothing in the house.”
“You didn’t go get milk, then?”
“Forgot; I did have to go save you from a criminal mastermind, after all.”
“Tell her milk and beans then.” He waited until Sherlock had sent the text before saying anything more. “She’s different, isn’t she?”
“Compared to myself and Mycroft, you mean?”
“Well, yeah,” John admitted. “She’s very… animated. About normal things, I mean. She’s not jumping up and down about a serial killer.”
“Just wait until the next one pops up,” Sherlock warned him. “I assume she told you she’s the daughter of my eldest brother.”
“Yes, Sherringford… You’ve not mentioned him, you or Mycroft.”
“There’s not much to mention anymore, I’m afraid… Sherringford passed away over Christmas, heart attack.”
“I’m sorry… Evie lives with her mother, then?”
“Evie lives alone.” John’s eyes widened.
“Alone? She’s just a kid, isn’t she?”
“Thirteen. She lives at a boarding school right now, Mycroft and I haven’t discussed where she’ll be staying after this semester…” Sherlock’s eyes widened a bit. “Makes me wonder what she’s doing here… her school is a good three hours away, it’s not break yet…”
“Worried about you?”
“No, she wouldn’t leave school over this…” John was about to take the discussion further when a nurse walked into the room. After apologizing profusely to Sherlock for unnecessarily having his leg in traction, he informed the two men that they were free to go at any time. He also slipped John his number on the way out; much to John’s dismay, Sherlock teased him about it all the way back to Baker Street.
“You’re just jealous that they don’t hit on you,” John replied as they hug their coats in the hallway. “All you ever get is that poor girl, Molly.” He stopped for a moment, thinking. “How is she going to take it, her beloved boyfriend is a psychopath…”
“She’ll be alright,” Sherlock replied. “It’s not like he loved her back…”
“You never know… in everything evil, there’s a small something good. Maybe Molly was that small something.” Sherlock was about to reply when hurried footsteps caught his attention, drawing his eyes to the stairs; Mrs. Hudson was running down them. “Careful, Mrs. Hudson!”
“Oh Doctor Watson,” she said, worry in her voice. “I’m so glad you’re here…”
“Why, what’s happened?” asked John.
“There’s a woman upstairs, she’s hurt badly… I helped her up to your sofa… Her pretty red hair, all messy and covered in blood…” Sherlock looked at her, eyes wide.
“What color did you say her hair was?”
“It was red… lovely color too, I’d love to know who did it for her…”
“It’s natural.” Sherlock didn’t say another word as he pushed past Mrs. Hudson and ran up the stairs while John made sure the older woman didn’t hurt herself before following him up. He was standing in the doorway when John caught up with him, staring into the sitting room; lying on the sofa-eyes closed, clothes torn and covered in blood-was Evie.