Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter 2

I sat in the taxi between John and Sherlock, on our way to whatever crime scene was involved in this case.

When we arrived, John was attempting to get me to stay in the car but I refused, and he didn't bother arguing because he knew I would win. I'm quite clever, and I am always told that I could be a lawyer. It cause I'm stubborn like mum.

As we cross under the police tape, I am stopped by a woman who isn't much taller than me, who has dark skin and hair.

"What's this now, psychopath, you kidnapping children now?" she said, which I took rather rudely.

"I am not a psychopath, I have told you a thousand times! I am a high functioning sociopath!" Sherlock replied.

"No, Sherlock didn't kidnap her. This is Charlie, and she's my niece. Charlie, this is Sally Donovan."

"Pleasure," is said, holding out my hand to shake hers. To my surprise, she didn't take it. She just turned around, rolled her eyes, and said "whatever" before walking away.

"She's... a treat," I said as sassy as I possibly could.

"Don't listen to her. She's just... moody. And take care you don't get introduced to Anderson," said Uncle John.

"Who?"

"Sally's beau," Sherlock replied, "equally as stupid, twice as annoying."

We walked into the building, I had my arm linked with my uncle's. They introduced me to a man named Greg Lestrade, who I thought was rather nice, but Sherlock couldn't seem to remember his first name, and Lestrade kept correcting him.

We were lead towards the body.

"So, what do you know?"

"That the victim was home alone while his girlfriend was out getting groceries. And when she came back, she found him dead, and called us."

Sherlock then proceeded to examine the body, and kept making deductions that were not helpful to the case what so ever. That's when I noticed something strange on the victim's wrist. Scars. So I bent down to examine them.

"This was a suicide," I blurted out.

"What?" Sherlock, John, and Lestrade said all at the same time.

"You heard me. See these scars on his wrist? These, judging by the width, and length of them, are scars from a razor," I said as I grabbed a pair of gloves. "May I?" I said before taking them from a police officer. I flipped the body over. I lifted up his shirt, and rolled up his other sleeve. More scars. "They are all over his other wrist and his stomach. This is the number one sign of depression. Talk to his girlfriend, see if there had been any death in the family recently, or any major health scares." The guys were staring at me wide eyed, even Anderson, but John just smiled and chuckled to himself. He then went out to speak to the victims girlfriend. Lestrade was looking at me in fascination, Anderson in a 'you can't seriously believe her, she's only 15' look and Sherlock just observed me, trying to figure me out.

Soon enough, John came back. He said that sure enough, both of his parents had recently died in a car accident and that he had been depressed. John looked impressed, and very proud of me. We then walked out of the crime scene, and hailed a cab. We sat the exact same as we did before, with me in the middle. Sherlock was looking out the window.

"How did you do that?" He said, not glancing at me, but keeping his eyes out the window.

"Do what?"

"Make the deductions?"

"I don't know, I have always been rather observant." I replied.

"What's your IQ?"

"132."

"Still in high school?"

"Yes, but I take university level law."

"Hmmmm..." Sherlock said aloud as he seemed to think this over, "I think that we will get along just fine."

John and I smiled.

"Well," he said glancing at me, "that's a first."

We were silent for the rest of the car ride home.

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#sassycharlie :)

-MrsThorinOakenshield