Sophia Holmes and the Geek Interpreter (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Two

"Um, okay, so my name's Chris Melas and this is -"

"Yes, not interested, moving on," dad interrupted.

"Okay," Chris replied rubbing his thighs anxiously before looking back at his friends for help.

"Don't be boring," I groan, seeing the signs.

"No," he says, shaking his head, "alright. One of the main features of our website is a graphic novel based on an organisation called the KRATIDES - they're like this group of really cool guys which help fight terrorism, but actually they're not freedom fighters, they're right-wing believers."

"Comic book heroes which are right-wing believers?" John repeats.

"They aren't 'comic book heroes'," Chris sighs. "They're graphic novel heroes."

"Right, yeah," John says, hiding a smirk. "So these right-wing graphic novel heroes - you've seen them ... where exactly?"

"They've been in different places each time we see them, and there doesn't seem to be a pattern that we can see." I laugh slightly and their heads turn around to face me.

"Sorry, continue," I smile, biting my lip. It's very unlikely that they could have looked into it enough for any patterns to be uncovered.

"Um, okay, so we - I've - seen three of them, so far. I spotted the first at New Cross Station as I was coming back from uni. It was - looked like, I mean - Sophy, the Wolflady. She was getting rid of some unattended luggage as if it contained a bomb or something." John begins to scribble down some notes in his book, but dad and I lean forward, eager to hear more. "Then, I saw The Flying Bludgeon on Wandsworth Common fighting a guy who had started mugging a woman. Then ..." he says, pulling out his wallet and sliding a small paper photograph from it, "I saw the leader of the KRATIDES, Professor Davenport, outside the Greggs in Beckenham." He passed the photo across to dad. "What do you think, Mr Holmes?" Dad looked down at the photo for a moment, analysing the figure.

"Interesting," dad says, walking behind them to give it to me to look at. Sure enough, I can see the blue-skinned leader standing in the middle of the street, watching people go by. "Sophie?"

"It wouldn't have taken much to take a photo of Greggs and then photoshop Davenport into it," I say thoughtfully.

"But in the novels, he's in cartoon form," one of Melas' mates argues. "How -"

"There are a million and one tools on photoshop which can change the properties of the photo," I tell him lazily. "I'm sure it won't take me long at all to find the one which turns the cartoon into a real-life figure."

"Mr Holmes," Melas says, dismissing my argument. "I should probably tell you that these things which I've seen happening - well, they've happened in the novels as well."

"What do you mean?" Dad asks, frowning.

"Well, Sophy with that luggage, she did that in the third book, and The Flying Bludgeon is supposed to be fighting off a mugger in the forth book." I look over to dad, a little confused.

"Could it be some other students, playing a prank?" John asks dad, his pen poised above his page. "You know, dressing up as these characters and trying to convince people that they're real."

"Possible," dad hums. "But in my opinion, there are three possibilities." He takes the photo back off of me and walks across the room before sitting down in his seat.

"What are they?" Chris asks eagerly.

"Number one," he says, putting his fingers together. "The KRATIDES exist in real life and the 'graphic novels' are just ways of publicising their actions. I once knew a -"

"And secondly?" I question, interrupting him going into a long lecture about a previous case.

"Secondly," dad says, fortunately stopping. "You are suffering from psychological delusions, which is quite likely considering the pressure you would be under at university."

"I'm not imagining these things!" Chris cries. "I saw these people."

"And lastly," dad says, frowning in thought as he ignores Melas. "This whole thing could be set up for me."

"Moriarty," I whisper. He'd been gone for almost a month now, and nothing had led back to him. Dad nods in return.

"Mr Holmes," Chris says, looking furious. "My family and friends think I'm crazy.  There are only four people who believe I'm still sane."

"Interesting," I say. "You said four. Now, assuming for the moment that you were including yourself and these guys here, there is still someone you're missing. Where is he?"

"We've never actually met him," says one of his friends, "but he's on our website."

"Pass me the laptop," I say, and John carries on over for me. He fortunately didn't turn it off, so I open up another tab. "What's the name of your website?"

"Behind the Novels," Chris pipes up, apparently beginning to calm down. "But you won't find anything. He doesn't even have a profile picture."  As the page opens, I click on the 'comments' section and see the conversations between them.

"That would be Kemp, yes?" I ask him, and he nods. I spin the laptop around briefly to show dad. "Profile picture is a smiley face - oh I hate those. So you have no idea what he looks like?" The boys shake their head. I read the comments between them. One that catches my eye is a response given after Chris first tells his followers what he's seen. And guess who's replied first?

:-) Kemp: It's alright mate, I believe you. It's incredible, I wish I could have seen it myself - keep spreading the word! Let the world know that these guys exist and what they've done. We need to see more of them. This is fantasic!

"And have you?" I ask, looking up from the screen. Melas looks at me confused, and I roll my eyes and sigh in annoyance. "Been spreading the word?"

"Oh, sorry, yeah," he says. "I've set up accounts on Twitter, Facebook, Google+ - you name it, I've been posting it on pretty much every social networking site I can find."

"And you've been facing a fair amount of ridicule for your troubles," I state, flicking quickly through the facebook account Chris mentioned.

"Well, yes," he admits.

"Thank you Mr Melas," dad says, standing up and walking towards the door. "We should be in contact with the answer within the next couple of days."

"You really think you can solve it so quickly?" Melas asks.

"Well, yes." Dad replies. "I am Sherlock Holmes, after all."